Ok. Day 2. More clothes. More photos. More shoes. More fashion PR girls. More money. More problems. Let’s get into it. (I lied about the money bit).
Fresh into London’s Hospital Club I heard Nicholas Kirkwood’s first line of men’s shoes was unmissable. The collection was sublime. Sleek, elegant and mad fruity, just how all shoes should be. The highlight pieces pictured below two orange and red zigzag numbers fit for Dali. Like seriously, you pull those out and people and going to lose their shit and ask you if you have any pills left ‘cos they want a slice of whatever the big man’s having (note – you’re the big man now).
Next up came an awesomely British ensemble from To Be Frank designer Frank Phillips. Her captivating AW13 collection entitled ‘The Development of a Gentleman’ and inspired by her father was faultless. From the quality of the English materials sourced, to the detailing of the removable and transferable shirt collars she proved that TBF is a label to keep both eyes on. The collection’s Arc de Triomphe (yeah, I write about fashion so I know things about France and drop it into casual writing to let you know that I know about France, is this why fashion people have no real friends?) was The Malton – an oversized wool jumper handsewn by a lovely woman named Sue. Due to the nature of the wool used, no two are the same, and as such I cannot afford one.
Next up came some straight street style shooting. For those that don’t know it’s when people who are involved in fashion, stand around pretending not to notice there’s cameras around and take pictures of each other, then run home and get that good stuff on Tumblr. Chasing those reblogs. Anyway, I was going to try and avoid getting involved, but then I realised I’m no better. Peep below for the best dressed man of the day La Touche (Hawaii print jacket), some awesomely unwearable shoes, a fashion girl, and the winner of two awards – worst jacket of the day and worst pretend smoker of the day. Enjoy.
The best thing to reflect off my sparkling-in-awe retinas (maybe not, I don’t get how vision works) was the Oliver Spencer show to close the day. I got a seat much closer to the FROW than I should have ever been allowed, but that’s what you get for sweet-talking PR girls (poetic license is being used here in the highest form. Basically I’m lying). The collection was vibrant, energized and truly lit up The Old Sorting Office with it’s 60s inspiration. Here’s some snaps.
That’s it. Back home after another day. I need a cuppa. See you when the sun rises.