The early morning sun is falling softly on the golden fields as they speed past me. The sky is bright blue, hinting at a splendid day ahead. My stomach is rumbling slightly from my early morning start and the lack of breakfast consumed. It’s 8am and I’m on the Edinburgh – London train writing my first article for LoveScene. My suitcase is three-quarters the size of me and weighs the equivalent of a small country. Packed inside are my furs, heels and leathers.
That’s right for the second time in my, I’d like to think relatively short, life albeit I’m pushing on a bit at the ripe old age of 23 – I’m heading to fashion week and crammed inside my silver shelled mini wardrobe are my carefully selected outfits.
I’m about to step into the exciting, though at times daunting world of the fashion pack. Last season I attended with my goofball self and Modehunter (modehunter.com) who I was assisting, and made the major faux pas of going rather casual and sporting shameful bland outfits. The practical girl in me envisaged what for most was the reality, long queues in the cold and waiting around with the photography equipment and so I decided comfort was what cut it best. Wrong. Unless I have been born without an important female gene to find heels comfortable and to go jacket-less I realised that comfort, practicality and fashion – or fashion week at least, are not about these things being inextricably woven together.
Air kissing through Balenciaga heels, Hermes bags and Burberry coats, I wondered, these people either have excellent jobs or have no furniture in their house. I had a mini personality breakdown. Where am I going with my life? Maybe this is the wrong path to take? Maybe I should stay an artist and not be a fashionista – largely because I’m not. I swore off fashion and decided to focus on my other passions, photography, art, travel.
So why am I back on the train heading to London Fashion Week?
Because fashion to me is not about designers, it’s about artwork for the body. Fashion Week is about being whoever fashionably you want to be. And deep down under my practical shell there is a – I’m not even a fan – mini Lady Gaga hiding inside of me. A little eccentric, so it has been said, I’d dress like Cruella De Ville each day…if it was practical of course. There is nothing more I love than furs, bright coloured head scarfs, Ankara fabric and the most exquisite couture dresses, cue my variety of dream Elie Saab and Valentino designs.
Fashion Week is a mixing pot of new designs and the drawing board for the next season taking inspiration from the many weird and wonderful people who turn up. It’s a concoction of well dressed has beens, will be’s and wannabes. The passion is there from the 4-year-old on the front row to the old school rocker. It is a highly engaging atmosphere you can easily and willingly be sucked into.
Life in practical wear doesn’t inspire, does not excite the way outré outfits do. With everyone striving for their own bit of individuality, the race is on to be snapped by the many bloggers running rampant around Somerset House. So throwing caution to the wind, I have come dressed in my unpractical attire. I will be cold, my feet will be blistered and sore, and my chiropractor will be mad at disobeying the no-heel rule set in place to heal my bad back but there is something so very exciting about the endless possibilities and creative freedom fashion week brings and it might just be that this season I fall victim to those that last season I scorned.
Fashion week is not just a trivial whimsical affair for airheads, nor is it an event to be overlooked due to the fakery of a few but fashion week is an event that affects me, you and even those who attest to hating fashion. Fashion is a daily occurrence for each and every one of us because whats gliding down the runway today will be filtered down into your shopping trolley tomorrow. Fashion is the art we have most control over. It defines us, how others see us. It is an extension of ourselves. It is a heady mix of sincerity, originality fantasy and fun.
So in the name of fun here is to my home-made red furry shoulder pads, the death of practicality and uneasy welcome of discomfort. Long let the fashion pack approve.
ALETHIEA DE PASQUALE
Images courtesy of: londonfashionweek.co.uk