The London Fashion Week Experience
London Fashion Week. Three beautiful words. My first ever experience of LFW was so exciting I was almost overcome with a severe case of country-girl-adventures-in-the-big-city syndrome. The outfits are suitably planned with expert precision (with back-up), shedding shoddy student exterior to emanate stylish professionalism. On goes the press badge, tickets at the ready, pens and paper twitching, tube map imprinted on the memory, eyes peeled and go!
The scheduled shows were scattered sporadically across some rather interesting locations; the Science Museum was a particular favourite. At one show here I sat opposite Peaches Geldof; I was wholly impressed by this sighting but my London friends responded in a bored and mundane tone, “She’s always at the same parties we go to”.
At another off-schedule show the screens constructing the set came dramatically crashing down within centimetres of my head- all the action was rather embarassing for the poor designer and arose in the audience a cringing air of uncertainty- to laugh, to consider legal proceedings, to recoil in shock and horror?
All in all, I queued mercilessly and chatted so much that by then end I’d sculpted my fashion banter to absolute perfection. I ate ALL the canapes backstage that the models ignored. I saw a tiny dog zipped into an incredibly expensive bag (it was called ‘Sumo’), I collected hundreds of arty magazines/postcards/lookbooks/newspapers/posters…. and it was GREAT. How those in the industry do it solidly for a month is beyond me.
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