Fashion Week Tea From London Fashion Week SS20

It's day one of London Fashion Week SS20 (Spring/Summer 2020) and, on a foot with a potentially broken baby toe (I fell down a stairs the night before in my friend's apartment as it was incredibly dark and the stairwell is next to a very narrow landing), I rush in for my first show of the season. I somehow make it with fifteen minutes to spare – an eternity in the fashion world where things nearly always run late – and join the dishearteningly long queue but I don't think about it too deeply, as surely they know best about how many people to invite? Wrong. They, in fact, do no know best, as we quickly realise when the one, very small and sweet and polite young woman being sent to man the ever-growing queue tells the majority of us that the show is at capacity and none of the rest of us will be getting in. Unwilling to observe people with egos berate this lovely woman who is only doing her job, I immediately duck out of the queue and into a nearby cafe for a nice breakfast. What's the point in being annoyed? It's not going to change anything and it's just fashion, it's not that serious. Lining my stomach with delicious food will make things infinitely better.

Models at the Nensi Dojaka SS20 presentation.

Next, I hit up a presentation in which models in very cool and daring lingerie-inspired dresses wander the room, selfie-sticks in hand, looking listless and generally reflecting a message of caution towards contemporary behaviours and attitudes in a digital era. One of the models carries bundles of printouts of photos of another model that are spewing from a printer in the corner. I register this peripherally as I am at work trying to get “the shots”, on a time crunch. I do not register the model approach me, something that I have never experienced at a presentation before (A/N: presentations are an alternative to fashion shows in which models are dressed in the collection and allowed to roam a space for several hours, either simply posing or acting in some way to adhere to the theme of a collection). She comes at me with a print-out and I gasp-scream before chuckling in embarrassment (no one makes eye contact or laughs with me, despite the fact that I am surrounded by other attendees of the presentation) and meekly accepting the page. The model, God bless her, is a complete professional and doesn't even blink in surprise, continuing on her merry way. Thankfully, I have an out as I need to get to another show, so I scamper away.

Gayeon Lee SS20.

At said other show, I have trouble finding my seat, which is odd, as there are finite, labelled options of seats and I can read. I go back and forth along the row of seats before asking for help. The sincere and lovely young attendant that I ask, however, quickly proves to not be very good at her job. She is as lost as I. On an amusing note, when she gets her hands on an i-Pad to look up the seating arrangement, I notice that I am listed in the database with a picture of the television broadcaster by the same name.I fail to get a photo of this but it makes me laugh and I wish I had. (They must have just googled my name and not looked into it to make sure they had the right Colette Fitzpatrick?) Eventually, it becomes apparent that someone has stolen my seat. Another attendant, who is much more on top of things, tells me to do the same so I squeeze in between two people and ensure I get my hands on a giftbag – look, I was given a front row ticket and there was a damned cute hat in the bag, I was simply getting what I was promised.

Sharon Wauchob SS20.

Upon leaving the show, I make my way to Foyle's, the famous London bookstore, for my next show. I try, and fail, to resist the temptation of being in a bookshop and buy three books to add to the stack of books in my room that I have yet to read. When I get to the show itself I am immediately surprised by the increase in the number of people with zero fashion week etiquette, including professionals. It's always been an issue that bloggers, students, and randos invited along don't get the etiquette. They don't seem to grasp that everyone is there trying to get their shot, that a lot of the people are there to work, and that they need to get that shot in order to get paid. I see lots of people hogging prime spots to have a chat, which is simply rude. The etiquette, as I've observed it, is to wait your turn, get your shot as quickly as possible and then to step aside for the next person to do the same. The number of people ignoring, or ignorant to, this, seems to have increased exponentially since last season. I also observe similarly rude behaviour among the photographers this season, which is surprising. They're normally the very people that you can count on to get it! I don't know if it's because the market is so saturated and getting “the shot” makes it easier for you to sell your images over another photographer or if there are just more photographers that are very green getting involved but it was sad (and very frustrating) to witness. Irritated as I am, I leave once I've seen everything once, even though the usual bonus of a presentation is being able to carefully take in pieces and all their details. Rudeness is my Kryptonite so I have to split before I get so huffy (because, of course, I won't actually say anything), I knock myself out from a lack of oxygen.

Lark & Berry rings.

On the second day of London Fashion Week, my true love gave to me...sorry, no, wrong song, different tune. But I do get a free ear piercing at Lark & Berry, which is pretty good. Some fashion week glamour rearing it's expertly groomed and styled head. The brand is really interesting, using cultured diamonds and gems (i.e. Lab-grown, did you know that was a thing? I didn't) and maintaining incredible transparency about their practices. Their gold is ethically sourced, too, and they plant five trees for every piece sold. They also treat me kindly, even though I'm aware (as fashion week consistently reminds me), that I'm a nobody in the industry (that's fine, I'm a somebody in my free time so I can't cope with a little bit of ego-testing). At the very next thing I go to, however, I'm booted from my seat in the frow when a more important person arrives late. I'm not the only one it happens to and I don't take it personally but it stings a little. The collection is v good though, I just wish I asked the name of the girl I was chatting to before being escorted to my new (much less good) seat as it's rare enough to talk to someone nice at fashion week, someone who isn't trying to figure out if you're important enough to waste their time on.

Riona Treacy SS20.

The middle section of day two flattens and, aside from the Riona Treacy presentation, nothing is especially memorable. Fashion week is one long clamour of thousands of voices to be seen and heard and, unfortunately, not everyone can be. It's an exhausting energy to be around and makes me feel sad for people who place too much of their self-worth in it all. I also manage to go to the wrong show when I'm pointed the wrong way but manage to figure it out at the last minute and grab my seat. This time I'm not kicked out of the front row and the THISNORTHAT collection is a wonderfully cool palate-cleanser after a rather forgettable afternoon.

Simone Rocha SS20

Summer returns in full force for day three and I am forced to abandon the outfit of lace and velvet that I had packed specially for the Simone Rocha show. I battle through the hot underground and am glad I chose to change; when you're a regular pleb, there is too much use of public transport to allow for the perfectly turned-out looks of street style fame. The first show of the day is another that I don't find especially noteworthy, something that increasingly weighs on my mind as it feels more and more important not to put our planet under the burden of making things that aren't necessary or extraordinary. There is no longer room for that which is just "okay". The mad schlep out to Alexandra Palace for the Simone Rocha show exemplifies this. These are clothes that needed to be born. These clothes make the world sparkly and magic. These clothes are works of art that were well-worth the panicked combo of tube-train-bus and hour-and-a-half-commute-that-many-of-us-thought-left-us-with-plenty-of-time. We were wrong. More fashion week sweating ensued. But, as I say, it is worth it. I quiver with excitement throughout the whole show. Afterwards, Galway Now's very own Blathnait, who I haven't met again since a brief encounter years ago and not since beginning working with the magazine, and I finally reunite. We bump in Sinead Burke and, somehow, we end up talking about Peig Sayers on acid. The meeting and the show leave me buzzing so much that the next, once again, somewhat underwhelming show doesn't stop me from having trouble falling asleep for all of the ideas racing around in my well-stimulated brain.

Finally, I finish with the Paul Costelloe show, as is often the case for me, sadly missing Katie Ann McGuigan and Colin Horgan's shows as I don't plan to stay for the Tuesday. It's a fashion week rule: if you stay the extra day, nothing is on. If you leave, you miss something exciting. Thankfully, though, Paul is a great note to end things on. The collection is joyous and, of course, at the show teeming with fellow Irish folks, there is no shortage of kindness. I actually manage to miss my show at half eleven but there is another at twelve and the attendants all wave it off as nothing, assuring me they'll squeeze me in. They do just that and though the party vibes and social atmosphere border on rude at times (lack of that etiquette again; three ladies chatting on the runway had to be told to sit down after the lights dimmed and music cut out and everyone else cleared the way), I can't help be glad of the guaranteed kindness of this show to ensure fashion week always ends on a very positive note for me. In this case, there is no more tea to be spilled, and, sure, isn't that as well? Tea is to be savoured, with good people, not wasted.

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London Fashion Week AW19 - Highlights, obsessions, manners, and frustrations

I do London Fashion Week each season. Have done (almost without exception) for four years now. It is almost always wonderful, dizzying, leaving me breathless and vibrating with renewed passion and excitement for weeks after the fact. And, at this stage, I have designers I have personally followed, in some cases since their debut, for years. I have favourites and friends in the industry and I'm always discovering new, intriguing brands.

Being in London twice a year for fashion week also gives me a chance to see friends who live in the city and gives me access to eateries, stores, museums, and more that I have to admire from afar in between visits. It is a heady mixture of fashion, reunions, and hectic touristing. And I am also, technically, working. As you can imagine, it is exhausting. But it is always worth it. Mostly.

This season, for me, was dominated by Irish and Asian designers working from London. NATALIEBCOLEMAN being back at LFW herself and on the schedule was a highlight and seeing Katie Ann McGuigan get the British Fashion Council support she deserved delighted me while Xu Zhi's presentation literally blew me away with its beauty and both Gayeon Lee and Jamie Wei Huang both presented collections I wanted to shop immediately.


I started out with the Jamie Wei Huang show and was delighted by the location; the extremely lovely Garden Museum, which is located in an old church not far from Westminster. The crystal-clear morning sun was illuminating the first blooms of spring around the headstones and in flower beds in the churchyard as we stood outside and waited to be let in. I managed to snag an empty seat, despite the fact that I had been originally allocated a standing invite (a fact I'm salty about as I've been covering the brand for years and actively seeking out to attend and cover them but I like the work enough not to get overly put out) and quickly forgot my childish complaints as I fell into the charming school days theme of the show. Taiwanese Indie Band No-nonsense Collective blasted over the soundsystem as a distinctly nostalgic-sounding and energetic soundtrack, exam answer sheets were laid out on benches as the show notes, and a parade of male and female models with tousled hair, blushy cheeks and a slightly dishevelled look in tartan twinsets, asymmetric longline suits, unisex sweaters with hand embroidered check cable in the brand's signature bold shades of blues, reds, white and combinations of the above, reimagined macs and puffers with built-in backpacks, and more, passed by. Tartans, checks, knitwear, big coats...all very much staples of novels about British boarding schools but reimagined and a little more rebellious. The net result? I felt like I was watching the cool kids walk past me in the school corridor and, boy, did I want to join in!




Next, I rushed my butt across the Thames to the Gayeon Lee presentation, where I found things very prim, proper, and perfect. Hairbands, ribbons, elegant pointed shoes, and dainty little handbags, starched and pleated shirtdresses, hems to just past the knee or to the calf: it was a collection as pristine and put-together as I sometimes dream of being and will never be. But made more interesting and modern by slightly longer sleeve-lengths, handbag handles with Lee's signature geometric shapes, cut-outs just above the hip, and masterful use of tucking, gathering, and pleating to create sleek, form-fitting silhouettes. Lee's woman is elegant but she is not dowdy in the least, a line that is always hard to tread but is done here with ease and great taste. As I noted in the beginning, it was one of the collections I most wanted to fill my own wardrobe with, which is not always an indicator that a show is good or not but a place to start.




Friday was busy and chaotic and I did go to some other shows but was not particularly blown away again, until (and you really will have to excuse this continued pun), I got to the Xu Zhi presentation. This, however, was where my nice smooth streak of calm was blipped this season. It always happens, such is the way of fashion week. There is always chaos, crowds (bigger or smaller than forecasted, leading to messes in either scenario), and a lack of manners that boils my blood. The word has obviously spread as the brand has grown and the masses turned out for the theatrical presentation in which Xu Zhi Chen's models were blown about on a cold windy morning, strangers each going about their days on their way to their respective destinations, tied together by garments with elements in common, connecting and interacting here and there. This heavily conceptualised presentation required space for the models to act out being blown away, to come together in embraces, to walk about as if they were going about their days normally. As there was no clearly marked out space for the crowds of observers, the large mob kept clashing and interrupting their flow. I did my best to avoid their path and let them past but one very surly-looking model shoved past me twice, glaring at me as I apologised to him. Not that I could blame him, even if he were cross with me or merely acting out some character. The clamour to "get the shot" was unbearable and it was a crowd without normal presentation etiquette, or so it seemed. The collection itself, however, was a delight, as was the concept. The room was simply overly-full and overly-excited. But I was feeling the giant fuzzy coats and matching oversized bucket hats, the lacy, see-through bucket hat down over the eyes on one model, the fringed skirts, dresses, tops, and bags, the perfectly just-oversized suits. It was all slick and yet just a little chaotic. Wearable and theatrical. Opposites in the best sort of way.




I finished day one at the University of Westminster grad show, picking out some potential future talent before heading to the Dior exhibition in the V&A because, why not? I was in town anyway. The next morning, however, I sadly missed my first show because it was at half nine in the morning, which is just gross during fashion week when you're up late (doing social media until 2), have to dress up somewhat, and need to actually get there from wherever you're staying. At least be civil and have a two hour presentation if you're starting at half nine on the Saturday of fashion week. A catwalk at that time should be illegal. Trying not to be deflated at my own laziness, I took time to explore the designer showrooms and interview jewellery designer Ellis Mhairi Cameron for Bean (keep an eye out!). Then the Katie Ann McGuigan presentation began, delighting me once again with Katie's fearless and expert use of the most joyous colour you ever did see. I was at her LFW debut and this was her on-schedule official LFW debut, which made me very secondhand-proud if her. This collection was inspired by the Bosozoku "Speed Tribe" biker subculture in Japan in the 80s and 90s. The idea of an all girl underground gang is a serious mood and the beautiful combination of heavy monster shoes, sporty cuts, intense layering, and heavy leathers with breezy organzas, a palette of lilac, mint, ochre, navy, and jade, tulle, gingham, tie-dye, and rose patterns, is striking. The effect? A need to be initiated into said gang immediately.









For the rest of the day, I decided to forego lots of invites for shows that I wasn't feeling or felt I was just in a very different demographic to and, instead, spent the day meeting friends. I had one other show in the evening and my childhood bestie and I decided to part ways for it and reconvene afterwards for dinner. This, perhaps, was not the best choice as, is often the case, later weekend shows can turn into an overpacked party where manners go to die. As is also often the case, clearly FAR more people than could fit had been invited. I had a seated ticket but, by the time I got through the door, there were few seats left so I tried to find a good place to stand instead. I could have been a dick and made a fuss about it but I didn't because what's the point? It wasn't any of the attendants' faults and they looked stressed as it was. Sadly, a trio of American men attending the show did not seem to feel the same way and I watched them ask some girls who were seated in front of me if they had seating tickets. When the girls said that they did not, they made them move, only to stand in the spots in front of said chairs for a better view (when you're that far back, you're better off standing) and block the line of vision of everyone behind them. It was a room of people clamouring to be important, to be someone, to be seen to have been there, and to publicise the fact, and this is exactly the worst side of the industry. It made me feel ill and sad for everyone involved. The desperation and rudeness, and willingness to push anyone out of your way is not my thing. I left as quickly as possible.

My final day began with the NATALIEBCOLEMAN SISTERS presentation, which was stunning and breathtaking and everything. I literally cannot stress that enough. In a darkened room, a circle of women sat, sewing, chatting, at work, together in sisterhood, different ages, sizes, and races. At their feet were scattered roses all over. They wore Carrickmacross lace, handmade by Natalie's longtime hometown collaborators, silk, linen, hand embroideries...women's work, a history of female legacy, celebrated and raised up once more. Caravaggesque lighting illuminating the angelic curls, impassive faces, and beautiful garment details of the diverse cast as they worked at stitching, leaned on each other or on an artful stack of books at the centre of the room. The presentation celebrates sisterhood, the bonds of women, and the importance of these bonds, more than ever, in these turbulent times. Shown in collaboration with the United Nations Sexual Reproductive Health Agency, 25 years after sexual and reproductive health became a fundamental human right, there will also be a capsule collection of printed scarves, hoodies, sweaters, and t-shirts (all sustainably and ethically produced in organic cotton), with 10% of profits going directly to the UNFPA. Once again, I'm Natalie's biggest fangirl, wishing I could afford an organza confection to live in.









On then to another show I went, having missed one I was excited for due to schedules being too tight. Upon arrival, I discovered the type of event normally fine but disastrous at fashion week; trying to liquor a crowd up in a sunny court early on a Sunday afternoon, an hour behind things, and with no explanation for the delay or hope for anything better. I had to bounce early, grumbling and unimpressed, in order to make my next appointment, with no idea how long the rest was going to take and no one who seemed to know themselves among those working there. Another major bugbear of mine: you just cannot mess with people's fashion week timetables! It's very poor form.



To end things off, I somehow just managed to make the end of the Underage presentation, of which I loved the punky Rocky Horror Picture Show vibes but arrived too late to really experience. I did like the Edwardian coiffing, Japanese-inspired tailoring and fabrics, creepy specs, clashing of fabrics and textures, and overall hedonism and romance of it all. And with that, I was pushed out the door so they could prep the space for the next show and made my way to the airport after a fashion week filled with incredible collections, lots of rude people who need to respect those at the event to work and who need to learn some etiquette, overly-crowded venues unable to cope, stressed employees trying to manage, fun times with pals, great food, a stellar museum trip, and the feeling, as per, that the whole thing is all really very strange...

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5 Highlights Of LFW SS19

London Fashion Week, my old pal, came early this season. It sneaked up on me and things were chaotic (even more so than usual) in the run-up. As a result, I decided to chill out a bit and not book up every second of my day. I took things easier, I breathed a little and I tried to be more in the moment; it was a very different fashion week and I made more meaningful connections with brands and people, which is a rare thing at LFW.

So, my highlights this time around are extra special. Here are the best collections and brands that I encountered at LFW SS19.

1. Katie Ann McGuigan

I'm a bit of a smug arsehole, in general, which is why Katie's SS19 collection was all the more gratifying for me. I was at her first show, at Fashion Scout, years ago and called her as an incredible talent right away. To see her have her first standalone show on the official LFW schedule and for her to kill it once more proved me right in picking her out and that only delighted me. Her collection, celebrating the unity that can be displayed in sports culture, takes elements of football kits and sportswear and adds ruffles and pleats, transforming something often seen as "masculine". The use of colour, as ever, was bold and brilliantly executed and the accessories showed a keen understanding of streetwear and what people really want. Bigger and brighter things are ever ahead for this talented designer.









2. Xu Zhi

Two Temple Place, a stunning Gothic Revival building that features stained glass windows, gargoyles perched outside, rich wood panelling, chandeliers and more, played host to Xu Zhi's Emily Dickinson-inspired SS19 collection. The presentation was a magical experience, guiding the guests through the building to various tableaux of paired models against dramatically lit sets, and even the jostling (often rude) crowds and German couple sharply cursing them couldn't ruin it. Delicate, elegant and leaving a strong impact, the collection was poetic and filled with pieces that were at once dreamy and utterly wearable.







3. Alexandra Moura

Alexandra Moura was actually my first show of the season, landing me on Brick Lane first thing in the morning on Friday. And it woke me up right away. The collection was inspired by the time that the designer's time, while growing up, in the countryside village where her grandparents lived, and getting ready in their Sunday best for mass and occasions. The church bells that tolled during the show were a little triggering but the lacy dresses, lace kid gloves, headscarves, ruffles, flounces, and cool denim looks majorly inspiring and well worth getting out of bed for...









4. Isosceles Lingerie

On my first trip around the designer showrooms - a scouting trip to inform my next, proper visit the following day - I noticed Isosceles Lingerie. The neon mesh caught my eye right away. Then, upon getting the lookbook, I read the accompanying notes from one of the models, writer Cara Scheffler, and it sealed the deal for the brand. It opened with Scheffler talking about being upskirted while furiously trying to fit in grocery shopping between meetings in New York and being too busy to be upset by it. The text goes on to explain that the idea that lingerie is for the person wearing it and not anyone else is almost redundant at this point. It's just simply the case. The campaign is all about claiming ownership of your body and presenting it how and when you choose. And I am totally on board.



5. Nelson

As I noted, I encountered a lot more kindness this season and one of the gentlest, loveliest soles (geddit it?) of all was Jamie Nelson, shoemaker and designer at the Melbourne-based footwear brand Nelson. Made to order and customisable, the shoes from this brand are sustainably made, stunning and very special.





Can all fashion weeks be this chill and filled with impeccably-made beauty, please?

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London Fashion Week AW18: The Good, The Bad and the Spilling of the Tea

London Fashion Week is a weird place.

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.

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...

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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