Amstrup le petite strumpet

I arrived late for work the first day of shows, which in fact turned out in my favour. They didn't need me backstage doing my slave bit, so I got to watch the up and coming Danish strumpet that is Amstrup, do her thing.

While I sat waiting to start (it was actually on time, which is a very rare thing in this business), I people watched. I spotted a few fashion journos in the front, ready to make notes, I papped the two ladies in front of me with their crazy-colorful hats and then out of nowhere a shining beacon of sheer flamboyance.... JASPER! Winner of series three of Project Catwalk, avant-garde extradonaire and all around sweetie-pie wearing... a floral, Balenciaga corset-top (from two seasons ago) as a belly-top, over a tight black t-shirt. Ha! Classic. At least I'm pretty sure it was Jasper and if it wasn't him, whoever they were, did a pretty good impersonation of his royal flamboyant heigness. I was just about to try and sneak a picture when the lights went down and the spotlight came up. It was showtime, so sadly there was no time for jokes.

What proceeded was a twenty-plus collection of mostly dresses, all very wearable. Trends from last season, such as diaphanous fabrics and loose tailoring were still present. Amstrup seemed to focus on one part of the body, namely the hips. There was an abundance of skirts and dresses with loose pleats and puffs around the hip area which created a sexy swish as models walked stealthily down the catwalk. Although there were some traces of more body-conscious pieces, a ribbed, stripey vest-top paired with a fitted grey pencil skirt caught my eye and certainly wouldn't look amiss dressed up for a dinner party or conservatised for the office.

The colour palette remained quite muted compared to some of Amstrup's contemparies. There were no tangerine dreams which showed at Luella or floral explosions of colour, which is House of Holland's current theme. The colour scheme at Amstrup ran from cream to grey and silver to black and not much else in between and although muted colours seem to be her trademark, it would have been pleasing to see a semblance of colour. It is spring/summer after all!

Overall a successful, ready to wear collection, if not a little dull in places.

I've got love for you...

So it may seem like I've been slacking on my blogging duties but I've actually been preparing for the mother-load, the beast, the behemoth that is London Fashion week. Its been bittersweet but mostly its been just like candy.

Fashion week is always stressful (I sound like a real pro, don't I? Although this is only my second time around on the magical merry-go round), still love it though. The highs always beat the lows and I can honestly say I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

I've taken notes, sneaked photos and made it my personal mission to befriend the people I work with backstage (no matter how hard of a feat the last couple were, I managed to do it!).

This time of year, is all about new beginnings, new seasons, and the designers dream becoming reality. However it is never without a price, and it usually costs the designers/team their sanity- at least momentarily. Although if you ask me some seem to have lost the plot entirely, but I won't name, name's. I'm coy, I know.

So back to my point, deadlines pile on the pressure, shows run late and occasionally black nail varnish gets spilt down plush fox-furs minutes before the show is due to start. But irregardless of any boo-boos that may occur, the show must always goes on. And when it does, the critics are usually hushed if not silenced and all the stress just melts away like it does during a 30-minute Radox bath.

Louise Amstrup, Afshin Feiz, Kavier Gauche and Danielle f*cking Scutt, we salute you.

I lived and loved it and now it's all for you....

In the beginning...

Back in the day, when I was a harranged fashion student, I used to dream of place where people could go to revel in the sheer glory and amazement that is fashion. There will be no drama, no celeb-schmoozing (although I'm not entirely sure what that means, but I think you get my point) and no fillers. It's just going to be you, me and fashion, bebe.

So I thought to myself, why not take it back to the beginning? Why not take it back to the place where the little fashion seeds start germinating only to radiate in full bloom on the catwalks of Milan, London, Paris. So I thought to myself...why not take it back to the streets? So my bebes, that's what I've done.