London Fashion Week SS19
Where September once meant the end of summer happiness and the bittersweet return to school, upon moving to London and being a part of the fashion scene the definition and identity of September transforms entirely. Three words: London Fashion Week.
As I head into this season, I am reminded of my first experience of LFW in September 2017 and am instantly humoured. *Cue Flashback Storytime*
September 2017: the month I moved to London and began university. My parents are driving me into London in a car filled to the brim with belongings. I am moving into London, into student halls, and officially out of the family home (my parents by this point have upped sticks and moved to France). It is official move-in day for all 223 of us new students. The downstairs communal areas are filled with new, nervous faces and numerous games and introduction initiatives, organised by the staff to help us integrate and make friends.
Once I finished unpacking I hugged and waved goodbye to my parents (heading straight to the airport), and with this my new life officially started. I sat on my new bed, inhaled a deep and bracing breath, and then made my way downstairs. I walked the two flights of stairs down, along the corridor, and reached the communal living room: the height of newby activity. I looked in, took a deep breath once again, and turned away, walking right out of the front door and on to Marble Arch tube station. Why? I had London Fashion Week to get to.
Okay back to the present. It is now September 2018, and my best friend Natasha and I prepare for a full weekend of fashion shows and after-parties. The weekend spent in Covent Garden treated us to beautiful catwalk shows - from designers the likes of Malan Breton, Rosella May, Jayne Pierson, and my favourite: the team of designers within the Stories from Arabia showcase.
Malan Breton’s show brought a huge crowd of guests, with queues wildly overflowing from the grand venue and all the way down Wild Street. Celebrities, VIP guests, and the rest of us more lowkey attendees spilled through the door and up the great Freemason Hall staircases. And wow, was the queueing outside worth it. The collection itself was out of this world, think: the best of sequins, feathers, and wet-look leather.
Sunday evening bought with it the extravagance of the Stories from Arabia show. Taking place in the grandeur of 116 Pall Mall in St James, the magnificence of the collections to follow was perfectly set. As we queued up the Institute of Directors’ ridiculously grand staircase, we were led into the catwalk room. Adorned with a great sparkling chandelier, oversized gold-framed portrait paintings, and embellished Roman pillars, the room was perfect. And somehow, the collections that followed were still the centre of attention. The exaggeration of glamour, beauty, and femininity so often present in Arabic designer collections is something that always brings me such joy (as a firm believer in more is more). So to experience collection after collection that innovatively executed this, in a setting that encased you in a physical manifestation of this world of embellishment and craftsmanship was… a new level of magical.
After the Stories of Arabia catwalk show came their magnificent After Party. Think: an open bar in amidst a labyrinth of grand reception rooms each lit a different colour, and filled with harpists, violinists, and roses (heaven!).
