My first recompense, after weeks of working for free, was to go to London Fashion Week. I won't beat about the bush; I think we all know that London isn't the most prestigious of fashion weeks. The most famous name we can drag onto the front row is the daughter of some aging singer and the biggest fashion party was held by a high-street chain. (No dis to Topshop, but it's not quite in the same league as Chanel.) However, LFW is better than no fashion week at all, so I donned my most eccentric outfit, tried to disguise my fashion week virginity and wobbled in my Louboutin rip-offs to the Pam Hogg show.
I can't pretend that I knew anyone there and this meant that, although I was half an hour early for a show that started late, I still managed to be the last person in (and sadly I couldn't pull a Lady Gaga-esque 'I had better things to do' line). The queue, and I use this in the loosest sense of the word, was more a polite boasting match for the crowd to show they 'knew people' and should be let in early. As outrageously dressed transvestites teetered towards the gates shrieking 'Dahhhling, I simply must pop in to see Pam', more subtle strategies were carried out by Z list Celebs and PR Gurus. Their method was to shout various names at the poor intern with the guestlist. On recounting a name that appeared on the list, they claimed that 'that was who sent me' and marched past the security guards with such confidence that no one could argue.
Standing outside the show was almost more entertaining than the catwalk itself as the crowd clearly ignored the scorning advice of one notorious queen: 'You come here to see fashion, not be fashion'. Mutton dressed as lamb seemed the predominate dress code, although we were also graced with the presence of a veiled he-she with big hair and a lace catsuit.
Aside from that, the show was incredible. In fact, it reminded my why I love fashion and the buzz of seeing beautiful clothes on beautiful people was definitely worth the queue. I even managed to nab a goodie bag before leaving...although it was filled with chocolates and their tempting powers were somewhat lost after staring at size 0 models all evening...
I can't pretend that I knew anyone there and this meant that, although I was half an hour early for a show that started late, I still managed to be the last person in (and sadly I couldn't pull a Lady Gaga-esque 'I had better things to do' line). The queue, and I use this in the loosest sense of the word, was more a polite boasting match for the crowd to show they 'knew people' and should be let in early. As outrageously dressed transvestites teetered towards the gates shrieking 'Dahhhling, I simply must pop in to see Pam', more subtle strategies were carried out by Z list Celebs and PR Gurus. Their method was to shout various names at the poor intern with the guestlist. On recounting a name that appeared on the list, they claimed that 'that was who sent me' and marched past the security guards with such confidence that no one could argue.
Standing outside the show was almost more entertaining than the catwalk itself as the crowd clearly ignored the scorning advice of one notorious queen: 'You come here to see fashion, not be fashion'. Mutton dressed as lamb seemed the predominate dress code, although we were also graced with the presence of a veiled he-she with big hair and a lace catsuit.
Aside from that, the show was incredible. In fact, it reminded my why I love fashion and the buzz of seeing beautiful clothes on beautiful people was definitely worth the queue. I even managed to nab a goodie bag before leaving...although it was filled with chocolates and their tempting powers were somewhat lost after staring at size 0 models all evening...
The stunning space-age designs from Pam Hogg
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