A Fashionista's Farewell

“If anyone gives you any trouble, just let them know you’re with me,” Natasha S. Alford ’08 whispers in my ear within seconds of our introduction.

We’re in a crowd of skinny college students downing double-sized cans of VitaminWater and primping before the last fashion show of Alford’s Harvard career.

I see police combing the arena for intruders and worry that merely dropping Alford’s name might not be enough keep me backstage for long. So I make the most of my time.

We are at Eleganza, in the midst of what appears to be the staging area of a circus tent. Half-naked men anxiously sashay through racks of designer clothing as scantily-clad women strap on cheetah-print loincloths and high heels.

“The belly dancers are about to start!” someone with a clipboard and an earpiece shouts.

In the midst of this whirlwind of hairspray, pomade, and styling gel, Alford stands calm.

“I just think all my friends are out there supporting me and I want to put on a good show for them,” she says.

An attendant, who has mistakenly pegged me as Alford’s dressing assistant, rushes both of us to the entrance of the runway, thrusting a bracelet into my hand. She instructs me to fit the loopy, gold accessory onto Alford’s wrist.

We’re moments away from the first scene. I wish her luck, but it’s too late. She can’t hear me. Alford is too busy encouraging her fellow models before the opening sequence in which she will figure prominently.

“Ya’ll are superstars, you look beautiful,” I hear her say before she walks out.

Watching the runway from the backstage monitor, I see Alford. Game on. She struts down with a sudden seriousness that makes me understand why this former president of the Association of Black Harvard Women has come to be known as one of the College’s most prominent seniors.

But as I’m watching the screen, a wary director taps me on the back, threatening that if I’m not helping with the show, I need to leave immediately.

“I... I’m with Natasha,” I answer nervously, and the director shies away.

I finally realize that, back here at least, Alford’s name commands more power than a press pass.

The scene changes and Alford zips into a navy cocktail dress.

“It’s going really well,” she says between breaths. “It’s going faster than I thought it would be going. You just work so hard and for so long and the moment lasts for, like, 30 seconds.”

One feather headdress and a pair of skin-tight leather pants later, Alford lets me know she’s finally done performing and ready to watch R&B singer J. Holiday close the show. I catch a glimpse of her later. standing on a chair, digital camera outstretched like a periscope.

“I’m trying to get close to him. He’s singing my favorite song. It’s my ring tone,” she says.

After the finale, Alford breezes through the crowd of exiting guests. She’s prevented from answering my probing questions by the seemingly innumerable flow of friends who want her face in their pictures, so we arrange to meet up at the Eleganza afterparty.

“Oh my God, Natasha!” a girl screams as Alford walks into the lobby of the Sheraton Commander, where Eleganza VIPs have congregated to celebrate yet another year of Harvard fashion shows.

Alford weaves to the front of a long line and enters the infamous afterparty.

I follow—again dropping her name to enter the party—and finally find her inside.

“This weekend is really emblematic of me leaving Harvard. It’s my last Eleganza show and I’m moving on next year to other things,” she says.

The DJ puts on a ’90s throwback song and Alford laughs lightheartedly, joining a circle of her friends with whom she’ll dance until the morning.