LONDON FASHION
WEEK A/W 2014
THE
PARADOX
ashion Week is
a paradox: it’s
exactly how you
expect it; clothes,
glamour, bitchiness.
And then, it’s not. The
rain, the rush, the fact
some people are there
just to say they went,
not because they love
the fashion. This season
was my first ever fashion
season, I was only
lucky enough to go to
London Fashion Week
but, as a girl who has
obsessively watched
and studied fashion for
the past eight years,
that was enough. Friday
morning was the first
day and it was the day I
was to meet the editor
of an online magazine
I write for, LDNXX. And
here is the paradox: at
9.30am Somerset House
saw me standing in the
courtyard, windswept
and absolutely freezing,
F
not feeling glamorous
at all in my full length
denim dress paired with
my Vivienne Westwood
T-shirt, Topshop
laundry-check socks and
calf-length black fur coat.
But, despite looking half
asleep and windswept
by London’s brilliant
winter weather, people
are taking pictures of
me. Why?
My first show was Jamie
Wei Huang, an upand-coming designer
who studied at Central
Saint Martins, and was
eventually mentored by
Stella McCartney. The
clothes were brilliant;
feminine, strong,
warrior-like. And, as I
was backstage, I felt lost
in this world of glamour
and elegance that I
had dedicated myself
to so long ago. I was
clumsily bumping into
photographers and
nervously introducing
myself to people. But,
by the end of the show
my confidence returned
as I realized that I had
just survived the worst
of it all by overcoming
the obstacles of what I
like to call ‘First Show
Freakishness’.
By Monday, I had
covered three shows
backstage and was
undoubtedly getting
better at the constant
social networking of
Fashion Week. Survival
instincts kicked in as I
learnt to brush off any
harsh looks or sarcastic
comments and instead
sought out people who
weren’t caught up with
social hierarchy.
Then came the Giles
show. This was the dealbreaker as to whether I
have truly toughened up.
By then, I felt trained »
in the art of fashion week
frolicking but I hadn’t
been to a show yet that
had so many people I
respected. The minute I
arrived backstage I was
hit again by the awful
feeling of not belonging,
essentially feeling like
a pigeon in a room of
doves. Giles Deacon
casually strolled past me,
and I thought I was going
to have a heart attack
then and there. As I tried
to do my job by listening
to the head hair stylist
talking about inspiration
behind the look and
appear like a serious
journalist, the beautiful
Malaika Firth sauntered
past and completely
threw me off guard.
It went too quickly.
Once I had warmed up,
made some friends and
actually got used to the
prese