I can remember waking up late that day. I had a hangover. A bunch of us had been out very late the night before at the Marc Jacobs after party. I just can picture Perry Ferril and Roseanna Arquette spinning records. I had a few runway shows later in the afternoon on the 11th. I had the times and addresses saved in my voicemail on my cell. I called to check, but the network was not working. I brushed my teeth, and called my agent at Ford to get my call times. She answered.
Me// Hey it's Jesse Kamm.
Her// What is it?
Me// Oh, well, my phone isn't working for some reason. I need my call times for today.
Her// What do you mean everything is cancelled!!! We are under attack. Click
I sat there groggy trying to piece together what she had said. I looked at my friend Mickey. He was like, what? I remember opening the curtains and smoke was filling the street. I can remember we were just sitting there in silence. We were confused. We were suddenly scared. We went onto the front stoop of the building, and there were 5 dudes standing there yelling about something. "What's going on?" I asked. They told us that the planes had hit the towers.
We started crying. We roamed the streets lost and confused. Four days later we rented a car and drove across the country back to LA. I have lived here ever since. These photos are from the weeks before, and the days after.