It is one of the few places in the modern, democratic world where hierarchy still weighs heavily on one's consciousness. It is a place where you can be treated like a princess at one venue and left pawing at the window, your breath fogging the pane, elsewhere (A/N: to clarify, this is an overwrought metaphor, I'm not quite an actual puppy that whines outside to be let in). The air is heavy with hopes and dreams and aspirations to the point of being stifling, at times. All said, it's an intense place. But it's also magical and leaves me happy and inspired for months in its wake.
This fashion week started rather bumpily for me.
I saw someone say that if you ever get too cocky about something, the universe has a way of bringing you back down to earth and fashion week taught me that. I'll preface this by saying that I don't go to be papped or be seen or sit front row. There is nothing wrong with those who do, we all have our own path in life and many people that others judge are only hustling and trying to make their lives happen. However, while I'm there for the shows, I have become accustomed to good seats and tickets. As my registration was messed up, I was sent noticeably fewer invites and less great seats this season and I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed by that. It took the whole first day for me to get over my snobbiness and decide to just enjoy a more relaxed run at fashion week this time around. Once I did, I stopped being annoyed by everything and started having a good time, knowing I had more space in my schedule for meeting friends and exploring things around the city that I wanted to see.
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| Bora Aksu AW18 |
My first show was great, despite my grumpiness. It was a Bora Aksu presentation that was all sorts of up my alley, with Georgian inspiration and gothy tendencies. Eerie music choices played as creepy-cute girls that looked akin to Tim Burton characters floated down the runway. Lace, cameo details, certain fabric, pattern and colour choices and silhouettes all referenced the inspiration for the collection; a young Irish woman named Margaret Ann Bulkley, who was forced to pretend to be a man in order to study medicine in the 19th century. The play between suiting and gowns also tipped a hat to the duality of the pioneering woman's existence but demonstrated how we modern women don't have to make that same decisive choices about our being. (A/N: there's a mean cocktail inspired by Bulkley served in the Liquor Rooms in Dublin, where their cocktail menu is an ode to incredible women from Irish history)
After the show, I tipped into the designer showrooms, a space that displays the collections of some of those who are showing on the catwalk or in presentations and those who aren't, alike. Or should I say I tripped in? Literally. (I don't know what was going on but there was many an uneven surface this season and I fell over several times. It was a bit of a hazard tbh.) Once inside, I did a quick wander to get a lay of the land and scout brands for later inspection. As I did so, I spotted Susie Lau, a major idol of mine and for about the third time now, bitched out at the last minute and wasn't able to work up the courage to talk to her...maybe someday...
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| Xiao Li AW18 |
Lunch cheered me up a little and then I checked out Xiao Li's collection at the British Fashion Council's Discovery Space. While I liked the shapes and bright tones of the collection, I confess that I saw none of the 70s skate culture inspiration that the press release referenced. I was also sat in the second row, with a very bad line of vision and got kind of moody because of it. I know, I know, I'm a brat but it was super hard to get a good shot of the runway and when you're working fashion week, that's incredibly frustrating. So, I did what anyone should do in that case, I went and got cake. I headed to the very pretty Aubaine in Selfridge's where the nice seats were full and the lady next to me practically sat in my lap. The tart I ordered was delicious and I enjoyed wandering the store but the rude people next to me and the fact that I had no more shows for the day - two is the least I've ever had in a day - ruined any progress in my mood. The friend I was staying with was out with friends but I wasn't up for company so I went home alone and got in my jammies to read until I went to sleep.
Day two continued with a sour mood. My first show of the day was covering a great young Irish designer named Roseanne McNamee at the House of Ikons for the magazine I was with but I arrived too early and paid far too much for a terrible cup of tea in the hotel lobby as I waited. When I eventually went into the show, there had been confusion and my backstage pass hadn't been cleared. Then there were no attendants downstairs to clarify where I was meant to sit, so I stood. ((Pro-tip: if you're not sitting in the first row or second (at a push and depending on the venue), then you are better off standing at a fashion show if you want to get good photos)). Again, I was there to work, so I stood to get my photos but the people who were there for fun kept jostling me and one lady, who basically sat underneath me kept tapping my shoulder and asking me to move. I don't begrudge someone getting a taste of LFW at all but if you're there to work, I do think your needs should be respected and this lady did not give a shit. The whole process was incredibly frustrating and, again, a weird disparity from the (arguably) much bigger shows where I was treated well and professionally. Luckily, though, my shots turned out great.
Popping on to the Sadie Williams presentation turned it all around for me. She always delights me, her sets are impeccable and they cast the best models. It was a bright, fun space-agey collection, displayed within a toy rocket ship set. Afterwards, one of the girls working there got a cool outfit shot for me and then I headed into the showrooms again, where I met some designers I might work with at Seoul Fashion Week in March, arrived just in time for free booze and hung out with the gang at SKMMP, an Irish digital showroom that represents the brands NATALIEBCOLEMAN, Electronic Sheep and McConnell. They showed me their AR models and we chatted away until I had to dash off to hang out with my friend's Burberry colleagues and watch the show in his French friend's house. Insider knowledge was poured into your excitable girl's eager ears, excellent wine and snacks were consumed and LFW was well and truly saved.
Day three opened with Edeline Lee's stunning garden of earthly delights, a collection of masterful florals, elegant silhouettes and great beauty. Then I had two more shows in quick succession, including the cute band of colourful misfits at Kristel Kuslapuu, before heading off to meet my childhood best friend in Chinatown. Pro-tip II: If your pal suggests meeting in Chinatown on a Sunday during Lunar New Year, don't. It will be insanity. Luckily, I managed to escape said insanity and quickly found a great Korean restaurant called Yori nearby. I was trusted to order all the food, ate way too much and then the two of us headed on to meet another friend for coffee. After she left us a couple of hours later, we went to a stunning bar called Disrepute for cocktails. When my best friend finally had to leave, I headed to meet my lovely host, Noel, who was attending my last show of the day with me. And thank God he was.
I'm so used to shows now that the novelty has long since worn off and, as this post shows, I can easily become grumpy and irritated by things. Bringing a newbie along offers a fresh tolerance and perspective. So, when the crowd at Aadnevik was there to drink and party and not see the show, instead of being annoyed at the noise and disrespect, I could still disapprove of their rudeness to the designer but see the funny and ridiculous side of it all. Plus, who doesn't like scoring free Champagne for their friend? Plus, plus, having someone to critique the collection with on the way home was fun and novel for me. (Cliffnotes: the overall vibe was good but the collection could have been edited down, though we understood that the label sells party dresses to socialites and celebrities and needed that many pieces).
My final day was madness. But the fun kind. I packed the night before so I could leave quickly in the morning and when I got to the Paul Costelloe show, I had my suitcase in tow. The Waldorf, where the show was being held, refused to stow my bag behind the counter for the duration but, luckily, I was allowed leave it backstage at the show itself. Then I was sat down in the stunning venue with a glass of Champagne before 10am...when at Fashion Week, right?!...As per, I was super into the collection. Costelloe's AW shows are always pretty rock and roll and cool and this was no exception. A sea of stunning linen, lace, tweeds and checks paraded by, made edgier by mesh elbow-length gloves layered with statement rings, giant pearl accessories, towering over-the-knee boots, high slits, tiny minis, power suits and carefree hair and makeup. Exuberant florals and menswear shown alongside the womenswear, meanwhile, came as welcome surprises in this AW showing.
After ingesting some more food to soak up the early booze and reclaiming my case, I went on to the Sang Yoon exhibition, curious about a brand that had sent me an invite with the most incredible penmanship. In the basement of a pretty Georgian building, in a side-street just off the Embankment, I had another glass of Champagne handed to me and wandered into a room where a series of mannequins were adorned with some seriously sexy garments. Not sexy in the obvious sort of way but sexy in the use of mesh sleeves that extended over the hand as a glove, in the belted power-suits with cut-outs at the waist, the powerful minimalism but clear statement. I immediately imagined both Rihanna and Blackpink wearing the clothes.
With some time on my hands, I decided to head to Harrod's to check out the special Vetements installation where used clothing is being collected in aid of the NSPCC, which really speaks to the incredibly cool and influential label's vision for how they want to move forward as a brand. Having dashed all the way across the city, I wandered the store calmly and took in the vastness of it and the awesome store design before sitting down to some tea. Once my energy was restored, I went across city again to the Ilaria Lepore presentation. Delayed by a half hour, I stood on increasingly aching feet with the crowd, waiting to be let in. I managed to get to the front rather easily so I was one of the first through the door and had an amazing view of the incredible presentation, which involved the designer herself performing before the models came out. Tired at this point as I was, I had little time for the fashion scene kids who were pushing everyone at the centre of the crowd and making noises during the performance. Yes, they were appreciative and supportive sounds but if someone is doing performance art, especially something that imitates a ceremony, you should probably get over yourself, not make it about you and hold your tongue. When I could handle the kids' behaviour no more and had seen all the clothes, I quickly disengaged from the crowd and headed back to the BFC space for my final show of the season, Paula Knorr. Another firm favourite of mine, she did not disappoint, with a glittering, jewel-toned, sequinned, disco-inspired collection.
At this point, I had gone from not having accumulated anything over fashion week, to having gotten three gift bags that day and gone shopping for souvenirs for the family. In the most glamorous highlight of the whole fashion week, I ended up sitting on the floor of the showrooms, trying to Tetris my suitcase and liquids bag into submission, while people walked by and gawked at the strange girl with her life all over the ground. I did it, but only just, forgetting my earbuds in the process and having to toss a cheap but effective moisturiser in favour of newly acquired gems.
Getting home was also a trial as an attendant in Victoria pointed me to the wrong train (Pro-tip III: Just fork out for the Gatwick Express. Don't listen to the lady telling you that you have enough time for a normal train at "that platform over there".), I had a freak-out when I realised my mistake and barely made it to the airport on time (okay, I had an hour left to spare but that's not enough for my comfort). But, look, takeaway tonkatsu from Wagamama and a beer downed at their bar while I waited for it helped out a lot.
So, there you have it. Fashion Week. In all it's strangeness and beauty. If you're not important in the industry, it involves a lot of running around and sweating but London is pretty easy to navigate, so that's not too bad. It also involves a lot of egos and bizarre people willing to step on you but that's pretty easy to tune out if you have a thick enough skin. It's certainly not all glamour and pretty dresses but there are pretty dresses and much more besides and the magic of all of that creativity and beautiful absurdity makes it all worth it. I'll be running on the fumes of inspiration I took in at LFW for weeks now, even if the backs of my legs hurt like I'd been seriously hiking for days and days afterwards.
Even if my feelings get hurt or I have to deal with bullshit or stupid things happen, I keep going back because there's nothing quite like fashion week and, with all of the rumblings of new ideas and necessary changes in terms of sustainability, I'm crazy excited about what is coming next.
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