Those of you who know me personally will already be aware of my preference to style over comfort (apart from behind the closed doors of my flat, then it's pyjama time: let's let loose.) My penchant for high heels means that despite how cool the trainer trend is, I don't actually own a pair of New Balance or Nikes. Don't get me wrong, my wardrobe feels somewhat lacking in the sports-luxe department without them, but given the choice of spending £80 on a pair of soft comforting flats over a pair of sexy, daring, lacquered black leather heels or boots with a spikey stiletto heel... well... I think you can tell by the overuse of adjectives which one of those I would opt for.
Up until lately my wardrobe has also been lacking in the mannish shoe: a staple of the androgynous trend I've avoided like the plague in fear of appearing short and dumpy. Androgyny isn't particularly the most short-curvy-girl friendly trend, and is most usually best reserved for the straight-up-and-down types. Plus after picking up similar style mannish-shoes from normal high-street stores I'd found my feet left so butchered and blistered it had me wondering where the liberation was in wearing flats. So I couldn't help in thinking what's the point in wearing flat 'comfortable' shoes when they're so painful they make you walk weirder than you would after falling over and breaking your ankle in a pair of mules??
But after slipping my feet into these boyish burgundy brogues, I was genuinely a little surprised. The inner sole was padded (imagine putting on a comfy padded bra onto your feet- yeah, that's basically it) and there was none of that digging-into-the-back-of-your-heel pain leaving you with the worst blisters.
Surprised, a little bit impressed, and a little bit more willing to embrace boyishness.
Ignoring the issue that I am a massive slob and manage to spill things/sit on things/generally make a mess of any pristinely white garment, I'm still somewhat overjoyed that the white-on-white trend seems set to stay with us all the way through until the end of Spring/Summer 15. Thanks to Bora Aksu, Issa, Temperley and Jonathan Saunders, LFW had a distinctively clinical tone. The stark purity and minimalism of white has me pining for a yacht party off the South of France, and the leaves have only just began to turn my favourite shade of burnt orange.
This was my last day at LFW as the next day was spent back in the office at The Times, but I couldn't help notice that over the four days there was the lack of drama in the shows. Everything was just a bit normal (i.e. wearable) really. Eudon Choi showcased relaxed tailoring in navy and beige, Burberry had denim jackets, and practically every other designer sent his models walking down the catwalk in flat shoes.
Basically, I didn't actually see anything that made me think "WTF?"
Even the most dramatic line-ups were elementally understated: Tom Ford may have had sequinned nipple pasties paired with completely sheer glistening baby-doll dresses, but these were all heavily dominated and outnumbered by the long flared suit trousers and tux jackets and flowing maxi skirts.
I can't help but wonder if Normcore has something to do with it. The baggy shirt and jumper combo, the ripped jeans and flat shoes: it's as if the 'easy and effortless' tag that we have pinned to comfort dressing to make it seem cool again has infiltrated all aspects of fashion week.
Even the street style was distinctively more relaxed in comparison to other seasons, with New Balance and Birkenstocks being favoured over high pointed court shoes with a multitude of leg-straps. This laidback approach to dressing was mirrored not only through the designers collections but in the the lack of street style photographers. Who wants to photograph the norm? It seems that the never ending parade of peacocks at Somerset House has slowly began to dwindle, which in fairness is quite refreshing. At least it strips fashion week back to what it really is.
Is the drama of fashion week really dead? It'll be interesting to see what February 2015 holds...
Better late than never: day three of LFW had began to chill out just a little bit more. Even my outfits had hit a level of nonchalance as I once again failed to stick to my London Fashion Week outfit action plan. This outfit just happened, thrown together some basics topped off with the must have coat for Autumn Winter 2014, The Camel Coat. Had the weather not been that swampy, damp heavy kind of humidity I'd have swapped the oversized tee for a cream roll neck jumper, but I'm not sure if I could have suffered sweltering under the heat of a wool-blend blanket coat and new season knitwear!
Statement coat + white tee + silk shorts has become the formula for my signature look and it's very deceptive. I'm quite sure it fools most on-lookers and passerby's into thinking I'm all very stylish and what not, when in absolute reality, I just so happen to have a very large collection of coats.
Pink and burgundy: it seems an unlikely combo. There's something almost a bit grandmotherly about it. Pink being the colour of your nan's favourite floor-length nightie and burgundy being the hue of your grandpa's tatty old jumper (but we all know he'd call it maroon.)
So really, it shouldn't work. But it somehow pulls together in an innocent pink lemonade versus dangerous crimson kind of way. The colours look sugary, girlish and retro all at once rather than looking like the aged and cigarette stained walls of a early nineties care home.
The House of Holland show was definitely day two's highlight. Whilst I was waiting around backstage to get the details of the beauty look (which was inspired by groupies in the 60's and 70's who'd been out partying all night- what's not to love?!), Henry Holland could be spotted just floating about completely calm and relaxed, something entirely refreshing compared to usual pre-show designer break downs.
The frow was a typical British it-girl party with Alexa, Daisy, and Rita Ora sitting (and I'm almost as good as Jennifer Lawrence at photobombing after appearing behind Alexa Chung several times over here and here.) Oh, and how could I forget Game of Thrones Brienne of Tarth (or Gwendoline Christie, if you will.) My god, if ever I was going to lose my cool and go all fan-girl, it was going to be over her.
The collection itself was fun, retro inspired florals on acid. Denim had been flower-bombed with all-over applique blooms, and there fiery orange crochet two pieces. Even the sound track was completely perfect. Old school Rock and Roll with jaunty riffs. It felt like the seventies had been given a 21st century neon injection.
Everyone- I'm back! So my little fashion blog has been put on the back burner for a while for a couple of reasons. One being that my photographer went on holiday for two weeks. Two being that I've moved into my new flat in Clapham and had no internet for three weeks. And Three being that I've been interning at The Times fashion desk. Put that all together along with covering LFW street style for Fashionchick and it makes for a very busy schedule with no time to prance around in the streets taking pictures of all of the pretty new things I've been spending my rent money on.
So, LFW. The main talking point? The weather, of course (we Brits certainly have an obsession with it.) It always rains during fashion week. It's always cold during fashion week. And with the chunky knitwear and statement coat trend in full swing, we couldn't have been more pissed off that the Sun decided to rear its burning hot head and turn Somerset House into a sun trap, melting us all underneath our soft cashmere-blend turtlenecks.
No matter how much systematic planning goes in to fashion week outfits, I always change at the last minute. So the pastel blue suit I was originally rocking got thrown back onto the floor-drobe and replaced with a burning hot number of fiery orange and rustic reds. "Oh my god. Aren't you like really hot in that?" This phrase was uttered one too many times, but with all of my professional politeness in tact, all I could respond with is "Yes, but it's Fashion Week darling."