So today I’m gonna spill the beans about this Jean Paul Gaultier creative director gig. Yeah, sounds fancy right? Let me walk you through how I actually got my hands dirty figuring this out.
First Step: Total Confusion Mode
I started thinking this role was all about sketching pretty dresses all day. Boy was I wrong! Dug around online and found like zero actual job descriptions. Just fancy runway pics and celeb photos. So I hit up this ex-intern who worked there last summer – bought her three coffees before she cracked.
Here’s the real tea she served:
- Morning chaos: You walk in at 8AM to 200 urgent emails. Suppliers freaking out about fabric delays, PR panicking over celebrity fittings, accounting screaming about budget overflows.
- Actual designing? Maybe 10% tops. More like refereeing fights between the embroidery team and leather specialists.
- Biggest shocker: You’re basically a therapist for models having meltdowns 2 hours before shows.
The Wake-Up Call Moment
Thought I could wing it with my fashion school knowledge? Nope. Last Tuesday became my nightmare:
Took my first meeting on fabric choices. The production manager starts yelling in French about “le fluide du jersey” – I’m just nodding like an idiot pretending I get it. Later found out I approved this crazy expensive fabric that wrinkles if you breathe on it. Whoops.
Then came the disaster fitting. This VIP client wanted her gown shortened. I said “just chop 3 inches” like a dumbo. Turns out the hem had secret weighted stitching that cost like $800 per meter to create. Tailor looked ready to murder me.
Reality Check Survival Tactics
After that hot mess, I developed my own bootleg training system:
- Shadowed pattern makers at 7AM before anyone arrives – actually learned how scissors feel in my hands
- Stalked the CFO until she explained why gold thread costs more than my rent
- Memorized model measurements like creepy math equations – hips divided by shoulder width equals drama level
What Actually Gets Done
After surviving 3 weeks? Here’s the actual job breakdown:
Monday mornings mean damage control from weekend events. Some influencer wore our crystal top backwards on Instagram – now we got 5000 people tagging us laughing. Gotta decide: lean into it or release “how to wear” guides?
Afternoons are supply chain hell. Our Italian lace got held up in customs because some inspector thinks it looks “too delicate”. Now you’re on Zoom yelling at government dudes in broken Italian holding up fabric swatches like “SEE? IT’S NOT CONTABAND!”
Show days are pure insanity. Lights go up in 30 minutes and lead model just puked glitter from anxiety. Now you’re mopping vomit in $3000 heels while reassuring her she won’t trip. Oh and the florist delivered wrong rose colors – gotta dunk them in ink buckets to match the theme.
Final realization? Creative director means “glorified babysitter”. For clothes and humans. The sketches? They happen on stolen toilet breaks.