The Types of People You Meet at a Fashion Magazine

Fashion magazines are awesome places to work. A bunch of creative, smart people put their minds and skills together to conceive and execute abstract notions of beauty, style, and coolness. Despite print's recent decline, people still kill for opportunities to join in on the fun, and for good reason. Producing a publication that focuses on what's now and what's next requires a staff of razor-sharp cool people who all contribute in their own individual way—that's a fact.

What's not as rock-solid is the notion of whether these people can operate on their own in the real world. In the insular, crazy world of fashion, these people excel. But they are definitely easy to spot for their quirkiness and general insanity in the workplace. Whether you're an industry vet or a rookie, it's good to know and spot all The Types of People You Meet at a Fashion Magazine.

RELATED: The 10 Types of People You Meet at Fashion Industry Events
RELATED: How to Not Suck at Your Fashion Magazine Internship
RELATED: A Field Guide to Dating Girls in the Fashion Industry

After toiling for a few seasons as an intern, which meant they ran their boss' personal errands, steamed clothes, and dragged trunks of clothes across town, this is the person who has finally been promoted to "Assistant." This means they now run their boss' personal errands, steam clothes, and drag trunks of clothes across town for a meager salary.

From approximately 7 a.m. until 10 p.m., this is literally the person who's making sure everything gets pulled off without a hitch, and they're somehow doing it with a smile on their face. But it's a thin veneer—the only person busier than the stressed-out assistant is their pharmacist and drug dealer.

Being an intern can sometimes suck a jar of ass, but there's always the one fresh-faced person in that season's crop of hopefuls that have mentally steeled themselves thinking this summer might actually involve sucking a jar of ass. Luckily, this isn't pledging at some horrible frat house, but this ever-smiling ball of pep will always cheerfully volunteer for the shittiest tasks that, unfortunately, are sometimes part of the job.

Steam the entire AW13 collection from this brand? No problem! Find that rare-ass plant from the Flower District at 6 a.m. that that crazy celebrity loves? I'll be there a 5:30 a.m.! This person is akin to Kenneth the Page from 30 Rock. It's not like the intern's hard work and enthusiasm don't go unnoticed, but sometimes you just want to burn their arm with that piping hot steamer simply to get that smile off their face.

At the other end of the intern spectrum is the person who showed up on the first day, realized they wouldn't be hobnobbing with Kimye, and canceled their order of all the fucks they were set to give. "Why can't you do it yourself?" is a common response to any request, and everyone in the office would layeth the smacketh down were it not for their daddy being VP of the parent company.

Sad face, but at least you can make them sit next to the smelly dude from IT as punishment. The only problem is, this blasé intern only plans on showing up 10 percent of the time they're supposed to. #DaddyMoney.

These are the bleary-eyed young go-hards who go hard every night and stroll in every morning at 11 a.m. with sunglasses still on and giant coffee in hand. The majority of the day is spent bemoaning their hangover and gossiping about who did what last night, but as soon as 5 p.m. rolls around they're texting everyone to see what the best plan of attack is for tonight.

By the end of the week, there's a pile of wristbands sitting on their desk as they explain that they don't "do" weekends. After a few months in the office, everyone realizes that this person doesn't have a full sleeve of tats; That's just a constantly rotating batch of marker entrance stamps.

"Florals? For spring? Groundbreaking." This is the editor who's seen it all, and could give a shit if they see it again. Industry-shaking decisions are made off the cuff just so they can get back to Candy Crush, and no one has seen them at an industry event or fashion show since 2006. The few times they do decide to participate in an office meeting, they spend their time reminiscing about the golden era of fashion, which to them was every decade except this one.

"Ah yes, the shoulders that season," they'll say, drifting off into their happy place. And then they'll launch into a story about the time they were in Curaçao in the '60s with Yves Saint Laurent and Hubert de Givenchy and the three of them went on a coke-fueled bender that resulted in the sacrificial slaughter of a goat, Yves' secret Caribbean family, and the founding of "Resort" as a season.

As any fashion mag vet or Bravo-viewer knows, fashion folk know and use slang to the point that anyone outside their kooky world probably doesn't understand what the fuck is going on. Well the fad diet crew in the office is one level ahead of everyone else at the office. Catch them in the office kitching dropping verbal nuggets like "Pil-Sook," "Cold Press," "Alkaline," and "Baby Food."

No these aren't bands they saw at some supertoxic site in Gowanus last night; These are the latest diet fads that this crew is privy to and devote themselves to completely... until the next fad comes along (and yes, there was a baby food fad diet). This group of people are constantly emailing each other success stories and fad diet tips, as well as hitting up SoulCycle at 6 a.m., with double sessions during the week before Fashion Week. If you're confused at who's a member of this semi-exclusive group, just see who's really cranky at lunch.

Every male crew has that dude who's always scheming on the latest way to meet girls. Everyday he's posted up at the farmer's market, at a Pilates class, or cruising commenters on Refinery29 with his six accounts. Well, now he's touting working at a fashion magazine as his best move yet. Every day for his first few weeks he was like, "Can you believe I'm getting paid to just talk to babes all day?"

Little does this dude realize that his job is just that: a job. And everyone else is there to get shit done, not meet cornballs who lurk by the water cooler. Also, how does he not realize that almost every girl is calling him "girl."

When people in the office whisper about Medusa, they're not talking about Versace. It's a widely-known fact that this head honcho has the power to turn anyone to stone with a lethal gaze that's eviscerating when it makes the rare appearance from behind super-chic sunglasses. Little-known fact: The Game of Thrones saga was actually based on the power editor's life, in which they clawed their way to the top, destroying anything and anyone that stood in their path.

Don't be an idiot and try to impress her or him with some stroke of absolute ingenuity you may have had that will save the print industry from certain implosion. Just fucking hide and keep your pathetic whimpering down.