So I was thrilled, delighted, overjoyed, excited (you get my point) to be invited by Dani (THANKS Dani) to LondonFashion Week.
I was freaking out about what to wear, so everything I own was given the once over and rejected. I had some killer pink and black peep toe heels but nothing to wear with them! After being told by Bec (an hour before I had to meet her and Dani) ‘Bron you really don’t have time to go and buy another dress’ I chose a safe grey one from my wardrobe.
Thank goodness for my new SPANX dress to wear underneath, its fabulous for sucking in, lifting up and firming all those bits that would be firm if I was a gym girl. To those not in the know, its a VERY tight dress that smoothes out all your curves. I put it over my head and that’s as far as I got, I was officially stuck. Thoughts of suffocating under a spandex dress and having a gravestone that read ‘Suffocated by Spandex, if only she’d got a size bigger’ flashed through my mind and I started to panic, jumping frantically around the room, contorting myself into weird positions to encourage the dress to move the right way. Even though I nearly lost a breast in the process I was glad to be safely strapped in and two sizes smaller!
Now came the hardest bit, walking down the road pretending to be a girl who knows how to walk in heels. My hobbling gait involves walking and pushing my butt out, whilst simultaneously jamming my foot back into the heel to make sure the bloody thing doesn’t fall off. Yes, I look very attractive and attract looks for ALL the wrong reasons… although I did have one admirer that day – you take what you can get. A teenage boy checked out my shoes as I walked (hobbled) past him and said ‘I love your shoes’. I had immense affection for him and wanted to shout back, I love your hoodie, and your boxers hanging over the top of your jeans! I restrained myself and gave him a grateful smile, giving my shoes an admiring glance… even though I couldn’t walk I loved them too.
I finally made it (last, as usual) to the meeting point, where a fashion photographer had been trying to take Bec’s photo, but she was slightly camera shy. I am notoriously UN camera shy but we walked straight in so he didn’t have a chance to ask me – or for me to ask him to take my photo! Dani and Bec looked stunning, and the epitome of the true fashionista. Both tall, blonde and slim wearing gorgeous fashion forward outfits. I wanted to get a photo of us outside the London Fashion Week sign, yes, I am tre uncool. They flatly refused, which in hindsight was probably a good thing.
We strolled around looking at clothes and accessories but the real attraction was the wine bar. Free wine, free is good, I like free. We went into a corporate hospitality bit because we’d seen some canapes being passed around but they must have run out because we loitered for a good five minutes and they didn’t reappear! We tried to blag a VIP bag too, with a similar lack of success.
It was quite amusing to walk around looking at how everyone was dressed, and to see people look you up and down as you walked past. It was like a meat market, for girls – and they didn’t want your phone number, they wanted your handbag, or in Bec’s case her rabbit fur coat! We’re still undecided whether it’s ethical to buy an old fur, I think if it’s old fur it’s been dead for a while anyway. It wasn’t your desire for the coat that signed the death warrant for the bunnies, so I think you’re in the clear Bec. Just reuse all the old fur, it seems a waste to throw them away and it does look super styley. Here is her complete ensemble.
We took our seat in the Jenny Packham show and realised that the FRONT row seats one ahead of us were empty, so we hopped over the seats and sat there like we owned them. Hopping over the seat was VERY hard in a Spanx dress I would like to add. We sat there with our goodie bags (chocolates and a tulip) and waited for the show to start.
The show began and all three of us gasped, not at the intricate beadwork, nor the stunning beauty of the model – more so for the wasted look and skin and bone appearance of the first model. If she had not eaten for a week I wouldn’t have been surprised. This photo isn’t of her but all the models were similarly skeletal. This photo makes her look curvy to how they are in the flesh. There is no softness to their bodies at all, gaunt faces, no muscle in their arms, their upper arm is slimmer than my wrist. Gross.
The catwalk was lovely to see but seriously, those models are going to die at a very young age. How can they survive? I can’t get across enough what stick insects they looked like! I was in Krakow last week and after seeing photos of the concentration camp survivors – they look 3 times the size compared to these girls. Being such a foodie I just can’t get over how you’d choose a career where you couldn’t eat! I suppose the copious amounts of drugs they ingest instead must take the edge off the hunger. Some of them looked quite wasted. So we left the show and delved straight away into the goodie bag and all three of us scoffed the chocolates like we’d never seen food before. They were delish!
Just one last thing about the catwalk show… if you ever go, don’t wear sunglasses in the front row (or inside at all) you look like a twat. Anna Wintour you are not and wearing sunglasses makes you look like a try hard.
Our night evolved from high fashion glamour to a pub showing the football where we met Dan, Alex and Martin … they say they didn’t know the football was on… mmm. A beautifully cooked dinner of fish and chips sealed my fate as not being cut out for catwalk model material. Ok, lets not mention, age, weight, height or lack of heroin chic looks that sealed my fate long ago.