But let me back up. My newfound seclusion came after three weeks in Europe for fashion month; first in Milan, where they had just begun closing schools; and then in Paris. The atmosphere there was bordering on apocalyptic. It was hard to explain to people back home in New York. I kept saying, “I just really hope I don’t get stuck here,” but no one seemed to understand. I imagine it was hard to reconcile what they were seeing on Instagram — street style photos on picturesque cobblestone streets, dramatic runway moments — with what the news was starting to say, which was that things were getting bad in Europe, and would surely start to get bad everywhere else, too. And there was a reluctance on the part of the fashion community to address the issue, too, because I think on some level we all knew that what we were doing (gathering in large groups, traveling) would soon be frowned upon at best, and forbidden at worst. We all suffered from cognitive dissonance until there was no escaping the reality of the situation.