Most of us, well maybe not everyone but the fashion lovers of the world, all dream or wish that one day we could attend a fashion week. Whether it be New York, London, Milan or Paris, it’s a dream to sit on that front row and literally rub shoulders with Anna Wintour (also now, Kim Kardashian)… The majority of us, including myself have only frequented such glory whilst slaving away as an intern behind the scenes( still great, tiring but oh so great). And as we all know with a fashion career to be forged, experience is key. I know, I know, it’s great to intern and experience the workings bla, bla, bla but by God don’t we dream to be the elite.
So, wanting to be a part of this ‘elite’ and pretty much gagging to see a catwalk show, off I popped to London for the one and only Vodafone Fashion Weekend. In honesty, I wasn’t sure of what to expect as although I’d worked behind the scenes before, I’d never sat on a row and witnessed the beautiful designs passing me by. By God was I excited. Roll on 2:50pm and a queue around the whole arena, reading my Tamara Mellon book and wishing they’d open the God damn doors. Did they not know that I NEEDED to be on the second row?
Mad rush? or organised chaos? Either way, women were comin’ at me left right and centre, pretty much securing the fact that it wasn’t just me who craved the first few rows. Because, we all know the nearer you are, the ‘cooler’ you were. Okay, probably not that cool as in this case there wasn’t the elite and you could pay a tenner extra for the front row. Sod it and off I pushed.
Sliding into my seat(whilst being nudged from every angle),I firmly planted my big ass down and excitedly waited for the show. Friendship groups to my left and right, all quickly whipped out their phones and a part of me thought, it’d be good to have a friend right now. To be honest this for purely for selfish reasons, as my battery was on 6% and I needed more photo opportunities of the clothes. Dead kind, Emma, dead, dead kind.
As the lights beamed on, Nicholas Oakwell’s name splashed across the backdrop and off the models trot. With confidence and beautiful posture they strode down the runway with an awe that made you stare in dis-belief. To some, models and their frames are of a big taboo, yet in true honesty I do believe that although they are sometimes a little(okay, extremely) too thin, the clothes are able to drape off their silhouette. Allowing you to focus on the beautiful creations rather than criticising. Or, well, maybe that just naive ol’ Emma.
Channelling 101 Dalmations….
My Fave: A beaded beauty…
Nicholas Oakwell has created beautiful couture for over 25 years. With every woman flocking to him for bespoke, elegant and ridiculously beautiful pieces, he is well and truly a God of design. As I stared on at each item gliding down the catwalk (whilst trying to snap a photo and preserving battery all in one), it fully cemented into me that fashion is truly what I love. Who wouldn’t utterly love it, in a consuming way that you’d go down to London at 8am on a 3 hr train to travel back 6 hours later whilst wearing brogues that cut your feet in two. Some may think it’s strange and that fashion may be of a vain career, but it’s what I love and with this love, I strive, alike many, to experience and find more to apply myself to. As why not follow your dreams? J to the L O, hello, (also known as Jenny from the block), did it. So why the HELL can’t I……Referencing J.Lo, yeah Emma you’ve finally lost. The.plot.
Hey thur feathers
My obsession: necklaces. The goodies of the day
Peas in a pod: Topshop
Cube central: H & M
Last but not least, the Finale, dip-dyed, feathered creation. A Carrie Bradshaw moment.
The resounding colours and finale of the catwalk. Nicholas Oakwell created dreams of a dress that would most probably never be a reality for the ‘norms’. How unfair.
-See you next year LFWend!
x Em x