Diary of a Fashion Expat

Part 2 - The Internships

By Laura Flanagan

In this multi-part series, British Designer turned Buyer, Laura Flanagan, documents her journey through the Fashion Industry and working as an expat around the world. Her story began with a chronicle of some of the challenges she faced finding the right fashion program and University. In part 2, Laura talks about her final years in school and her incredible internship in Paris.

Stay tuned for future installments about her career in London, making the move to Hong Kong, and her lifestyle as a Senior Buyer in Sydney Australia.

Continued from Part 1…

At this point I had started the four year Fashion Marketing program at a leading design school in Newcastle. The course was designed so that halfway through we’d take a year off classes to spend time doing internships. Time flew by being in a school I loved so much. And so in the January of my second year, I packed up my room, and headed home to Manchester once again to begin the hunt for my first internship.

My idea was to live at home and intern somewhere in Manchester. Despite its limited choice of fashion companies at the time (in 2007 Manchester wasn't quite as booming as it is now), this would allow me to save enough money to travel overseas later in the year for a second internship. 

I managed to find a paid internship at a local styling agency. The two women who ran it were inspiring, and it was amazing to hear about how they had started their own business. I was there for six months, learned a lot, and achieved my goal of saving some money to go abroad.

Through the university’s connections I found a second internship at a trend agency called Carlin - based in Paris! I was so excited, this was a dream come true. With some help from the school I researched some places to live, brushed up on my French and was ready for my next adventure.

I remember the journey to France vividly. It wasn't exactly a smooth start.

My dad had decided to join me for a few days to help me settle in. Our trip began with a several hour wait in the airport while they changed the plane’s windscreen (unnerving to hear for someone who had rarely flown at the time). After landing, I found my bag quick enough on the luggage carousel - along with all of my clothing scattered across the conveyor belt! The cheap zip on my luggage had burst and was clinging on for dear life. It was a disaster. Dresses hanging off the edge, t-shirts being dragged along - and of course, an explosion of underwear for the world to see. Awkward to say the least as my dad and I scrambled to pick it up.  

“My dad described the large shared house I was staying in as ‘bohemian’- I think he was trying to find a nice way to say ‘shit-hole’.”

Despite this mild trauma, we managed to board the infamous RER B train from Charles de Gaulle airport. It was a constant struggle keeping my belongings inside my luggage, now on its last legs.

Of course, instead of getting on the fast line like any sensible tourist would do, we got on the slow train which stopped at every station - through some of the most notoriously dangerous neighborhoods in Paris. 

After witnessing some near fights in a language we didn't understand, we finally arrived in central Paris. Despite the rough start, when we continued our journey to the southern suburbs where my accommodation stood, all was forgotten as we started to observe all the beautiful Parisian details around us. 

My dad described the large shared house I was staying in as ‘bohemian’- I think he was trying to find a nicer way to say ‘shit-hole’. I didn't care that the accommodation was old and run down, I was just so excited to be in Paris! Beautiful, romantic Paris, with an internship in fashion! 

Days later, my dad returned to Manchester and I started my job. The company’s office was on the gorgeous Rue de Miromesnil. I was in love with my commute, in love with the building my office was in, and in love with the amazing patisserie across the road. 

I was even in love with the Tabac opposite from us where grumpy old Parisian men would gamble and smoke. I found Paris magical. I couldn't understand why the majority of my peers chose to intern in London instead of taking the opportunity to seek out foreign lands.

Carlin was a trend agency with many different departments. I worked in Lingerie and Beauty. One of my main tasks was image searching - this was in the days before Pinterest and Instagram so I spent much of my time looking through magazine tears. I also ran errands all over the city, and helped categorize colors and images in the office. 

Although the staff at Carlin spoke to me in English, day to day I did find the language barrier difficult. Luckily living in shared accommodation meant that I had lots of international friends to hang out with who mostly spoke English. Sadly my french barely improved whilst I was there. But I was having fun, and at age 20, that was mostly all I cared about. I loved every minute of my four months working there.

 I returned to Newcastle to finish the remainder of my course. I missed the romanticized lifestyle of Paris, but it was nice to be back in a place of familiarity. I shifted my attention to finishing my degree - now with a focus on lingerie, inspired by my internship. I plunged deeper into my work, aware that the latter part of my degree counted for much more than the initial part in terms of the final grade. I was gunning for a first class honors. 

My third year was challenging yet enjoyable - little did we know what was around the corner. The fourth year was taxing on everyone. It was a difficult balance of trying to produce a collection and final presentation, juggling an extensive dissertation, and the financial burden that comes with all of it. Never underestimate the stress of a Design student in their final year!

“When I got my first full time position in fashion, post degree - I thought ‘well this is easy’ in comparison. Few forget that final year.”

My days that year started with getting to the design school for 7am when the doors opened. I would stay for almost 12 hours, and then head home for some dinner to get enough energy to continue working into the evening - unless of course I was going out ‘on the raz’,  (a term we would use at university for a night out of heavy boozing). 

I was still a student after all - and Newcastle’s nightlife was outrageously cheap and hedonistically fun. It was a great city to let off some steam. The days would carry on like this, and sleep was always my last priority.

I will never forget the blood sweat and tears that went into my coursework that year. When I got my first full time position in fashion, post degree - I thought ‘well this is easy’ in comparison. Few forget that final year.

Fast forward to graduation time. I didn’t get the final grade I had worked so hard for - I missed out by a couple of points. But after ten minutes of tears, I was over it. I knew it wouldn't really hinder my life chances. I was more annoyed knowing I could have probably relaxed a little bit, and still come out with the same grade.

But there was a silver lining. I was one of the lucky students with a job already lined up. Since the 2008 financial crash had happened the year before, that was a rarity. 

 The course I had been on had a great reputation at the renowned Graduate Fashion Week in London. I was lucky to have a space there to show off my Mexican-inspired Lingerie collection, which I named ‘Devout’. I had taken a trip to Mexico the summer before which had captured my imagination. A scout was at the show looking for a Graduate Designer for a Lingerie Manufacturing business. By pure luck this role was based in Manchester. I was in the role the week after finishing University - I barely had time to blink. I wasn't complaining, I knew I was very lucky to be employed straight out of school, VERY lucky.

Find out what happened to Laura next in Part 3 of Diary of a Fashion Expat due out next month.

Edited by David Polinow and Emma Golley