Highly Chained Genius

Despite my position of scum at the bottom of the fashion hierarchy (is it obvious I'm bitter?!) I actually get to do some pretty cool jobs. Yesterday, for instance, I was asked (well, ordered is probably a better word) to do some research into new jewellery designers.

For some people this would be easy. They would already know a whole bunch of websites that profile the innovative and up-and-coming (Not Just a Label is one of my favourite and most recent discoveries), so whilst munching on carrot sticks and flicking their hair around, most fashionistas could quickly produce a comprehensive list of new designers to look at.

I struggled a bit. OK, so it took me all afternoon but, during my struggle I was lucky enough to come across Adrian Eric Morales.

On my blog, with only you to judge me, I can confess how much I love Adrian's designs. At work however, I was less keen to declare my lust for this jewellery, in case I was enthusing about items that everyone else thought were hideous. The quest for approval is rife within fashion, despite the prestige you receive if you successfully break the rules. If you break the rules and don't look cool, well, that's worse than thinking it's OK to bring cakes to the fashion office. (Oh, wait; I've already done that....)

So, before I announce my discovery to the girls in the office, can you give me a little confirmation - these are awesome, right?!

All images are by Adrian Eric Morales

The Great Biscuit Conundrum.

During the fashion weeks of New York, London, Milan and Paris, life as a humble fashion intern actually got a bit stressful. I had started to become good friends with the terrifyingly beautiful girls that inhabit our fashion office and wanted to help relieve their workload. As my limited experience rather restricted the amount of work I could help with, I thought I could at least make the long working hours a little more bearable.

Normally, if I see people around me getting stressed or working extra hours I bake some cakes and try to ease their pain by feeding them good, honest carbs. Without thinking of the consequences, I spent an evening with the mixing bowl, loaded myself with cakes, buns and biscuits and struggled off on the commute thinking I had the answer to the office stress levels.

How wrong I was.

The mixed emotions that greeted my baking efforts were on complete opposite ends of the scale. In front on me were gorgeous, slim and overworked beauties gagging for a good bit of cupcake. But then, on their shoulders were consciences screaming at the sight of calories, fat and delicious temptation. The cakes were gratefully accepted, and then hidden in the most unlikely of places, miles from anyone's desks so as to be 'out of sight and out of mind'. Sadly, the longing glances these cakes received were the only recognition they got, as the streams of catwalk images floating across our screens were a constant reminder of how you can look if you avoid cake altogether.

It's a shame, but at least the FedEx man and our cleaners got a (slightly stale) reward for their often unappreciated work!

Sartorially starstruck

I have avidly followed Scott Schuman on his blog 'The Sartorialist' ever since I first discovered him in Wallpaper* magazine back in 2006. His notorious ability to capture strangers 'on the street' and convince them to pose with confidence and grace infront of his lens has led to the creation of many beautiful photographs which capture both the style and personality of each of their subjects.

Schuman has recently published his first book, and I was fortunate enough to attend his book signing at Liberty Department Store. Due to London Fashion Week and the hours I spent eagerly waiting for the shows, I was well prepared to join the stream of people winding their way through the menswear department of Liberty and (in a suitably British manner) quite happily managed to shuffle, roll my eyes and tut myself to the front.

When finally reaching the table where Schuman was patiently and cheerfully signing book upon book, I tried to be restrained and not gab too much about how amazing I think he is...and I'm sure the photographs below give a much better demonstration of his talent:






Schuman admits that he is proud his 'book celebrates style through a wide range of ages, income levels and nationalities' and I am as equally proud of my signed copy!

'Sorry, but I know Luella'

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...

The stunning space-age designs from Pam Hogg

Congratulations! You have a boy!

One of the first things I have noticed about the fashion industry is the distinct lack of men.

Or should I rephrase that; the distinct lack of straight men.

We are lucky, in our office we have (alongside 16 girls) one boy, and the occasional visit from the IT guy downstairs. This is a pretty good ratio if we compare it to various PR companies which are made up of 20+ female employees where the only male is the frequently absent CEO.

Our boy, let's call him Rob (suitably masculine and not too uncommon) is, of course, the most popular person in the office. The swoons, giggles and pencil droppings that erupt around him are ludicrous. It is pretty impressive to even find a pencil in this world of laptops and touch-screens, but somehow, whenever Rob crosses the office, writing implements go flying and are followed by flocks of girls rushing over to bend down and pick them up. If I was ladylike enough to successfully pull off a 'bend and snap' without tripping over the printer cable, it is quite likely I'd be up there with the rest of them, but surely this doesn't happen in offices with a more even gender ratio?

Whether this is just the case in fashion, when attention is the most sought after reward, or whether outnumbered men in various offices throughout the country also benefit from endless flirtatious glances and comments I have yet to discover. Once I have more experience of the working world I'm sure I can answer my own questions, but for now, your comments are welcome!

Blogging into life as a fashion newcomer

After three years of studying I am eager to dive head first into the fashion industry. Sadly, the fashion world has not greeted me with quite the same enthusiasm and refuses to give me a paid job. But, as such desirable places to work, the world's most stylish companies can get away with generously offering the opportunity to work for free. As I have yet to compose a convincing argument as to why I deserve to be paid, I have graciously accepted such an offer and have tentatively begun my foray into fashion.

Working for a company on the outskirts of London, I now spend four hours a day crammed inside commuter trains with nothing better to do than ponder the world of fashion. Hence my blog and this: the first entry of my (somewhat sardonic) diary of life in a fashion office.