NYLON - October 2007 - (Page 52) NICE PACKAGE EVER WONDERED WHERE YOUR UPS SHIPMENTS COME FROM? DANI STAHL DELIVERS. PHOTOGRAPHED BY BELLA HOWARD If it weren’t for UPS, I wouldn’t be able to do my job. On any given day, I anxiously await countless packages of shoes, bags, jewelry, phones, you name it, from across the country and around the world. NYLON’s UPS guy is an integral part of the magazine’s daily functioning. The company delivers about 15 million packages worldwide each day—so for my latest Factory Girl adventure, I wanted to experience firsthand how these important parcels find their homes. Plus, brown is such a great color for fall! Before my journey begins, I have to request my official UPS look for the day. I carefully choose a utilitarian-chic ensemble from the available options: trucker cap instead of a visor, vest instead of parka, flat-front pants instead of pleated. The company sponsors a number of fashion initiatives, so they kick in a custom-designed scarf by Tomer as the pièce de resistance. They’ll provide me with everything, but I have to bring my own socks and rubber-soled black or brown shoes or boots. I’m due at the midtown Manhattan hub at the very un-Factory Girl-friendly hour of 7:30 a.m., so I have wake up at 6 a.m. Fumbling for some footwear, the only thing I can find are a pair of brown shearling Uggs. Ugh. When I get there, I’m greeted by a supervisor named Michelle, who gives me my outfit. I get dressed in her office, throwing on two finishing touches: a pair of Marc Jacobs aviators and my big gold hoops. I think I’m the epitome of UPS style, but Michelle scolds me that according to company rules, my extra accessories must be returned to sender. In walks my mentor for the day, Anthony Dono (there’s nothing at UPS he doesn’t know). He’s worked for the company for more than 20 years and now holds the position of service excellence manager; he takes one look at my outfit and christens it “Combat UPS.” First, he escorts me down to the dispatch department, where each driver loads his own truck with packages arriving via conveyor belts. As I begin loading (with the help of my more muscular mentor, of course) I realize that everything here is based on elaborate rules, which I guess is the only way things remain on factory girl clockwise from top right: a view of the truck, sorting packages, showing off my outfit at the loading dock, my ginormous “blackberry”
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