For all those who don't believe in religion then I fear that you may be ideologically mistaken. Because for me there MUST be a God or someone biblical upstairs who lurrrrrves me. And why is that I hear you exclaim in wonder and disbelief? Well...if you've been following my Twitter lately or read my last blog post then you'll know that Yours Truly was able to attend the last day of London Fashion Week! Sadly I couldn't go the whole week due to a) lack of invites from designers and b) work and university coinciding with it and therefore ruining my life. STILL at the end of the day, one day was better than no day at all and boy oh boy did I have a freaking ball. If you haven't already guessed this was my first London Fashion Week season so please queue the whole load of over enthusiastic and excited writing, squealing, boasting and perhaps more fervent girly squealing. As the infamous chino wankers would say: YOLO. Yes. YOLO indeed.
Working as a fashion journalist for DeAvenue (a website and social enterprise dedicated to all those wanting to make a name for themselves in the fashion industry and just general fashion gossip/shenanigans) I went on behalf on them to cover one of the fashion shows to write for the website. Overjoyed and anxious, the next step now was to decide what to wear for my one day jaunt to the stylish capital. However being a frugal student I decided to intermix some designer and vintage pieces in order to show that wearing the most expensive clothes does automatically seem you the most "stylish" person in the world ever. Whatever your budget, you can look fabulous and I find even when you're more skint, you become more creative. Then everyone can smile warmly at you and say hello to your personality. So everyone please bonjour at my "real" Celine top, £4 blazer and Westwood shoes. Or frown. It's your call.
|Blazer: Charity Shop|
Shoes: Vivienne Westwood
|Shoes: Vivienne Westwood|
|"Fashion" coffee and cake.|
|The internet sanctuary. Bloggers bar.|
|LIFESAVER. If you have a dire mobile device like myself.|
|Amazing Sophia Webster clutch!|
|And Sophia Webster shoes! Ahhh.|
|Not really a fan of Disney BUT I wouldn't mind this Lulu Guinness Disney Dress!|
So then...what did I actually get up to? Well after registration, drinking oodles of the free Vitamin Water, familiarising myself with the exhibitions and what not I actually managed to make it to four shows! Yes, yes you heard me correctly. And I think that's quite bloomin marvelous since I only got a direct invite to one and it was my FIRST fashion week. Admittedly however the Ashish show (which was ah-mazing by the way, thanks for asking) I never actually got into into, as there was no enough space in the Courtyard so me and Sarah of Fashion Dotty (who was my London Fashion Week guide, without her I'd have been crying in the Somerset House toilets in the fetal position) were alternatively made to watch the show in the screen room. A dark, packed depressing room full of us rejects with no tickets. The room of which I acutely named The Fashion Cinema Of Rejection. Oh the horror. Still at least we got a film featuring a series of close up shots at collection as oppose craning our necks like bad tempered birds right far back at the back row, unable to see anything in detail. Like poor urchin press peasants.
AND also I would have made it another show but after a mad dash to Somerset House from Freemason's Hall I ended up being a pathetic five minutes late to the Jena Theo salon show. And the souless PR woman with the leather pencil skirt would not let me in. No way Jose. Well I hope she sits on a hairdryer/hot bench/sunbed unexpectedly and her leather skirt melts away. And I hope she in turn is five minutes late to the dry cleaners who won't let her in. That'll show her. And also I lost an invite that Sarah gave me to a presentation. For about 5 minutes it was depressing times. Then somehow I tried and managed to swindle my way into the Aminaka Wilmont show so was all good and gravy. Order was restored in the world again. Things certainly do have a way of sorting themselves out in the end don't they?
So all in all an amazingly amazeeeee experience. I was going to stay a bit longer to catch Fashion Fringe but transport via Euston summoned me to its station. Transporting me back to the tumbleweed and reality of the north in chains. All things said and done I was a bit of a rookie and lost but next season I will now be savvy'd the hell up on what to do, where to go etc. And hopefully next time I will be able to stay for a few days. This is unless of course university decides to ruin my life and throws cruel deadlines at me in February like shards of glass. Hard glass. Education and fashion...they certainly don't bode well.
Be sure then to keep an eye out of my catwalk coverage of the shows I went to and snippets of some street style I shot. London, it's been a pleasure and I hope you once again cordially invite me to your Somerset quarters in the forthcoming months.