When I was in Grade 6, our teacher told us to write down what we wanted to be when we grew up. Along with most of my 11-year-old female classmates, I wrote "Fashion Designer."

Seven years later, those friends are away at school studying business, kinesiology and economics. I, on the other hand, am still fixated on fashion. I'm working in the industry and building my portfolio. My plan is to attend Ryerson's fashion communications program next year.

Last month, I got the opportunity of a 17-year-old fashionista's lifetime to attend the Teen Vogue Fashion University, in New York City.

I was browsing the Teen Vogue website when I saw a link for Teen Vogue Fashion U, a weekend-long conference that includes seminars with designers such as Vera Wang and Tommy Hilfiger, stylists, photographers and other industry pros.

I applied, sending in sketches and a letter about my favourite fashion icons and my personal style. So did 1,300 other people between ages 16 and 22. I was thrilled to be one of the lucky 530 students accepted.

With them, I patiently lined up outside the 44th St. Hudson Theatre.

It was impossible to mistake the Fashion U "students" with their designer purses and opaque coloured tights, pashminas wrapped around their shoulders. They were also the only young women walking down 44th St. wearing four-inch stilettos in a downpour.

Though you might expect these girls to be somewhat arrogant, they were actually very nice. After only three minutes of standing in line, the girl behind me complimented my attire: "I really like your boots!"

I took this to be my first great success of the day. Not only had I apparently dressed correctly for the occasion (something that everyone admitted being worried about), but the intimidation factor that some "fashionistas" carry with them was immediately relieved.

Some of the girls are high school or college students. Some are working. All are looking for an entry to their dream world.

We were handed a gift bag at registration. Only Teen Vogue would stuff gifts into a transparent Dooney & Bourke tote.

The Teen Vogue headquarters in the Condé Nast building is like a dream, a surreal environment where fashion holds priority over everything. Magazine employees were dressed simply but stylishly, and pulled it off with an ease that amazed me.

Girls who registered for this peek into the teenaged fashion-bible headquarters slowly shuffled through hallways, taking photographs of offices we hoped to be interviewed in, and touching clothes we hoped to one day schlep around.

Nothing, however, was as astounding as the Teen Vogue Fashion Closet: a vast space dedicated to the safekeeping of hundreds of pairs of shoes, hats, purses, shirts, dresses, pants and skirts – all waiting to be used in a photo shoot.

"This is where we spent every single day as interns," explained our leaders as we wove through this jungle of colour and texture.

To most people, the idea of living in a closet every day does not appeal. But to this group, it would literally be a dream come true. We left the tour in a daze.

We were privy to a certain level of exclusivity and fame. It's not a regular Saturday when you walk past Tommy Hilfiger on your way to a seminar with Vera Wang, or hear runway-show horror stories from Jill Stuart.

That professional photographers were shooting our pictures for an upcoming Teen Vogue issue did nothing to dampen our spirits, but it wasn't that type of fame that made us so excited. It wasn't that Vera Wang had her own billboard just around the corner in Times Square, or that it was Tommy Hilfiger's name on the free bottle of perfume we received that day.

It was the fact that these talented and successful designers had taken time to teach us, no matter what kind of previous experience we had, where we came from or how old we were.

All the stylists, designers and other fashion experts had come to promote the passion that united us as students, and teachers.

Fashion was our common denominator.