London Fashion Week has always been something I’ve always wanted to go to and this year I was lucky enough to go with a press pass. Even though it was a hectic day from the moment I woke up at the crack of dawn and left my feet in pieces, it was so so worth it.
As a golden glow washed over the beautiful city of London, fashionistas from all over the world flocked to Brewer Street in Soho. For the past 62 years London Fashion Week made it’s home at Summerset House, but this year the location had moved. This change was in order to expand the event and welcome Londoners to join in on the celebration of fashion. As well as this, the move was also aiming to boost sales in local shops and encourage local entrepreneurship.
As I got closer and closer to the site, the standard ‘Londoner business type’ combination of newspaper (usually the Metro or London evening Standard), a swanky suit, some sort of chain takeaway coffee and a face which says ‘please don’t talk to me on the tube’, all faded away into a vast sea of colourful weird wonderness. One of the main reasons I love fashion is because it is so perfect at expressing the person and their emotions. I couldn’t stop looking at people and their outfits and kept wondering what had inspired them to wear socks and sandals or risk double denim.
London fashion Week seems to do weird things to the city. It changes a lot of things admits the busy city life but the thing I noticed changing the most is the traffic. Usually, if you were to cross a road on a red light or not at a zebra crossing, then you most certainly have a death wish as local drivers and cabs will not wait for you to skip over the road and they certainly will not be looking out for people stumbling into the road for not paying attention because they are texting or updating their precious Snapchat story. However, within fashion week none of this matters. I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing when I watched black cab drivers patiently wait for fashion and lifestyle bloggers glide across the road in a bid to get that ‘I am not aware of you taking my picture I am just simply crossing the road’ look. Even when a very brave soul set his camera to self timer and left it in the road to take an on foot shot of his trainers, a car waited patiently for him to get it perfect and their was no angry beep, swearing or hand gesture in sight. Unbelievable.
Another way the city changes whilst fashion week is taking place is people are a lot nicer. This completely baffled me, as when I visit the great city I often get weird looks on the tube/bus/street/basically everywhere for my tendency to smile and say hello to strangers who happen to be looking my direction. When I do this it often ends up with the said person having a very confused look on their face as a puzzled wave washes over them as if I have just asked them something ridiculous. I come from a small town near the Welsh boarder and it is seen as very weird/rude if you don’t smile at passers by, so when I do this in the city I am always surprised when I don’t get a smile back and just find the person staring at me as if I have to heads.
But in fashion week this is a different story. Everyone is super friendly and they actually like talking to you. I found people actually asked me whether I was having a nice day or complimented my outfit. This makes a big change from the usual interaction I have with passers by in the city, which often involves a clashing shoulder, a ‘sorry’ which is only half meant or in grunt form or the usual ‘what the heck is she staring at ‘ look. London Fashion Week was much friendlier than I first anticipated and I loved the way everyone swaps details or contacts for individual clothing brands. Basically, London Fashion Week is like a big fashion family reunion and everyone is interested in what you’re currently doing and your plans for the future, lovely.
Everyone is very polite and courteous until you get into a shows. This is where the game changes. As soon as you sit on that row with multiple recording devices at the ready and the lights go down, everyone gets their game face on. Those lucky people on the front row don’t really care about your obstructed view due to their heads/body/ cameras being in the way, all they care about is ‘the shot’. Which is completely fair enough as we are all there for the exact same reason. However, this wasn’t such a problem for me as I am unnecessarily tall for a girl so my gangly long arms could take good pictures just fine and my giraffe neck meant I could see the model head to toe and take in the whole glorious creation parading down the runway in front of me. I feel sorry for the shorter people that go to fashion week, but saying that I did notice that people tend to be of a similar height, as their massive platform heels or impressive head-pieces counteract their small height.