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...
