How lucky am I to have been taken to a catwalk show at the legendary London Fashion Week?
Yes, that’s right–very!
On Tuesday morning my friend and I glammed up and hopped onto a train into London. My friend (we’ll call her Liz), is very much the glamour-puss, often sporting a pair of Christian Louboutin shoes and equally glitzy outfit.
The pair of us eagerly tottered down to Covent Garden and along The Strand, to Somerset House. We were very chuffed to have been able to navigate the underground and streets to arrive at the location without so much as one wrong turn.
Okay, so we felt glam for a millisecond, until we walked in through those gates and were greeted by a plethora of the young, the attractive–and the somewhat exotic. Suddenly feeling like two very haggard old crones, we followed our clip-board lady into the Vodafone Lounge for pre-show drinks.
At that moment we were introduced to our ‘personal stylist’, which we weren’t expecting, and Liz quickly asked her the obvious question, “how do I stop looking so old and haggard?” To which our ‘personal stylist’ replied with a snort, “I wish I could answer that.” And so ended our lengthy style consultation.
A few moments later, we were ushered into the show room and quickly realised that our tickets were for standing room only. Oh well, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I decided that I’d probably be able to see better from that position anyway.
So the lights went down and bizarre music filled the room. The first model appeared, looking beautiful, if a bit miserable and lank. Her outfit was unusual–I’ve since been told the designs on catwalk shows are just a ‘concept’, which explains a lot.
As each model floated past with elegant ease, I really took in the atmosphere and excitement of the show. The designer we saw was Emilio De La Morena. His prints were stunning. And his show, short but sweet, was my first taste of the diverse world of fashion.