Everyone I've told about this dream of mine has been asking me: "Why would a 28-year-old pro hockey player want to be an intern at Vogue?" I guess the answer could be complicated, but to me it's simple: I like clothes. Always have. What started innocently enough with my first tie-dyed Chip & Pepper shirt at age 12 has evolved over a decade and a half into a closet full of Dries Van Noten, YSL, Dior, and Costume National, to name just a few. (Strange as it may seem, I think women's clothes are especially interesting — there are so many options, and they can tell more of a story.) And somewhere along the way, this love of clothes led me to what's become known as "the bible of fashion."

I don't watch sports. I don't read about sports. Generally, other than spending a lot of time in dressing rooms both at home and on the road, I don't hang out with other athletes. Over breakfast in hotels when the Rangers are on the road, I read the Style section in The New York Times. Some people question whether I'm straight; others give me compliments. Some women find it a turn-on. My teammates are very supportive and cool about my interest in fashion — sometimes they even ask for my advice on what to wear. But I'd be lying to you if I said that I don't take some verbal abuse from opposing players for the clothes I wear, or for my interest in something — "fashion" — that I think sounds a little frightening to narrow-minded blockheads. I also realize that this isn't necessarily their fault — they think it's what they're supposed to think.

Earlier this year — just before the playoffs, actually — I wrote to the editor in chief of Vogue, Anna Wintour, and expressed my desire to intern for the magazine once my team won the Stanley Cup. After just a couple of days I got the answer I was looking for.

But first, of course, the playoffs: The Rangers had a great first round against the Devils in mid-April. (I caused my usual controversy with what I thought was an innovative technique to distract the Devils' goalie, Martin Brodeur; apparently the NHL thought this was too innovative, and created a new rule to prevent players from blocking or interfering with a goalie — some call it the "Sean Avery Rule" — to make sure it never happens again.) In the second round we played a strong Pittsburgh Penguins team. In the first period of the third game of the series, I lacerated my spleen. I finished the game, but pretty soon internal bleeding and a few other bad things led to a rough week. The Rangers lost the series against the Penguins, and all of a sudden I had some time off. This is where the fun starts.