The Life of a Fashion Week Virgin

Making my way towards Somerset House at the ungodly hour of 8am, I anticipated a flurry of fashion followers, an intimidating army of paparazzi and a series of famous faces to greet me. I envisioned my wee self getting dragged down under this sea of mayhem and left just a tiny voice in the crowd yelping ‘where’s registration?!’

I was about to attend my first ever London Fashion Week. Like many fashion lovers I had spent past years glued to the online media coverage, keeping afloat of the new collections, the emerging trends and the crucial front row A-list. But this year I was attending as a member of the press.

I nervously walked through the entrance and into the main grounds. To my surprise the ‘sea of mayhem’ was no more than a small group of fluorescent yellow jacketed men setting up and one rather tired looking street-style snapper eagerly anticipating the first wave of guests.

After picking up my press pass, I headed to Paul Costelloe for my first catwalk show on Friday. Taking our seats, I bagged my first celeb spot of the day in the form of Janice Dickenson. Then I sat next to ‘blast from my childhood past’ Emma Forbes. The former fashion model looked even more bizarre in the flesh, with an alarmingly tight face devoid of movement and expression.

Costelloe’s show was a fantastic opening to the event, as the designer’s daughter glided down the runway with an ethereal elegance, complemented by her striking auburn hair and pale skin tone. The music promptly shifted to a more upbeat rhythm as four models strutted out in wacky pink bobs. The collection was filled with rich textures, plaids and tweeds and tailored two pieces.

Now, I’m the kind of girl who gets excited by a complementary biscuit so when we were greeted by a free glass of champagne upon arrival in the press room, I felt like all my Christmases had come at once. Not only were we treated to bubbly but also our choice of beverages and the odd tray of scones, completed with clotted cream and strawberry jam. I assumed that being a fashion-based event, I would be the one lone soul scoffing down the naughty treats but the scones went like hot cakes (unintentional pun alert) and became as sort after an item as an all-access pass.

As London Fashion Week finally wound down today, the style bubble I’ve been living in burst and it’s back to reality once again. But I leave the week with a series of highlights that include a celeb spot of Jameela Jamil that literally left me breathless (honestly, the process of inhaling and exhaling momentarily escaped me), a series of truly wonderful catwalk shows and a bag full of craftily concealed scones.

Image courtesy of Jennifer Inglis

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