And So The Fairytale Began.

Once upon a time, a boy named Mark dreamed a dream. A very ambitious dream, but nonetheless a dream, which he didn't quite appear to have grasped the enormity of. Mark simply wanted to immerse himself in the fashion world and what better place to do it other than at New York's VOGUE?

As we speak (I type) Mark is a slave to his own high standards as an intern at VOGUE in their Times Square office, New York.

It appears that Mark learnt some fundamental rules the moment he realised that in fact, A stood not for apple but his new boss Anna Wintour, B stood not for ball but his new go-to on 5th Ave Bergdorf Goodman, C stood not for cat but couture Cavalli, so on and so forth.

As a student of English at Liverpool's John Moores University he mightn't seem like a front runner for such a position, but he knows his fedora from his gaucho. Without going into the ins and outs of how he got this life-changing internship, it goes without saying he must have deserved it. Let's just say be prepared to get escorted out of top fashion magazine offices in New York by security, practically stalk members of H.R for correspondence, and to drop everything and go running (flying) half way around the world when they want to interview you. I know this post would not have been worth writing in Mark's eyes if I weren't to mention the prime example that would be the sacrificial sale of his beloved Smart car to drug barons in order to help pay for his 3 month stint.

With VOGUE having some of the biggest fashion balls of all, Mark was asked to keep certain info hush (including the loss of control of Facebook - shock horror to a sad few). Let's be honest, you would shave your head and go to work wearing nothing but your Miu Miu brogues if VOGUE asked you to and for that reason I won't put his currently unblemished credibility at risk.

Writing to each other has been like our own 'Dear Diary' entries with occasional witty responses from our alter ego. The aptly titled 'Love Letters' commenced on 6th June and are still going strong. Be it haute couture, office antics, the price of washing, work, weather, simple advice or other more illicit topics - we e-mailed. A lot, especially considering his 12 hour working days. The more juicy bits will have to wait. Wait for a book, wait for a blog of his own, a memoir or maybe just for our own personal enjoyment. E-mails carry the title 'Love Letters', therefore a book titled 'Love Letters of Powerful Women', by the intern himself, may be in a Barnes & Noble near you soon.

After visiting the same psychic that predicted Mark's good fortune, who knows where I'll end up. I'm not going to lie, there's no topping VOGUE. Some may call it selling your soul to the devil, and to some unfortunate people fashion is the devil. Ergo, yes may be he did, but as a result he has been given a key that would fit the lock of most, if not all, fashion publications.

And whilst I am very flattered that he reads my blog from VOGUE HQ - I'd rather be the one sat at that computer.

Oh, and to anyone who read this in awe/jealousy, to really piss on your parade, he turned down The New York Times for VOGUE. The choice would be a fine thing.