So I’ve been to my first proper fashion show. It was catwalk, celebrities, open bar, lots of fashionable people and me.
After landing the invitations I spent a week pondering over questions like what does one wear to a fashion show, how many free drinks is it appropriate to consume and is it required to bring a gay accomplice?
Well, not all my time obviously as there were other pressing concerns demanding my attention too - like work, my recent single status and the horses of course. And in the end the horses made the decisions for me. Because I ran late with my lessons the alcohol and what to wear issues were pushed to the side by the more urgent question of whether I was going to make it there at all.
This gave me five minutes to get changed, apply make-up and make my hair semi-presentable. This led to my outfit being jeans, boots and a black top. I threw on a lacy top underneath for good measure – I’m sure I read somewhere that lace would be the big thing this coming summer. Then as I got in the car again I realized that what to me was next summer would in fashion terms be last summer as I was about to be presented with next winter’s trends tonight. Surely that would make now so last year. Besides, maybe it was floral prints, not lace. Anyway it was too late now.
I took some comfort in wearing boots with some heel on them, as surely that would at least make me as tall as the models considering I am already 6ft without them. Maybe that counted for something.
The number of free drinks were suddenly reduced to zero as I had the car with me and the location of the show was in a part of town I would never leave it over night however much expensive bubbly I got thrown after me.
As for company there was only really one candidate and yes he happens to be both horsey and gay. But more importantly he is my best friend and even bigger fan than me of the designer we were invited to see.
For a horsey girl I suppose I am above averagely interested in fashion. Whilst working in the horse industry I was frequently accused of being overdressed for mucking out and tacking up. Not that I was wearing heels or anything, but I have always had a certain fascination for good quality casual wear. And it looks like I was onto something, because in recent years the assortment of casual riding gear has exploded.
Now that I am in a “proper job” I have to pay a bit more attention, but especially in the winter the practical aspects of survival are more important to me than the latest fashion. I have been known to go to clubs with long sleeved tops to cover up the thermals! But I have to admit I do like my designer labels, although I tend to go for the more traditional stuff from Ralph Lauren and Armani when I do occasionally splash out.
After learning that next winter was all about high waisted wide legged trousers and short sleeved winter coats –clearly not for me then- it was time for newcomer of the year. And that’s when I realized that I really don’t get it. It looked like someone had gone mad with a glue gun and beads on some kind of plastic multicoloured material before making it into dresses that were too big, but yet too short for the models. And to top it off it was accompanied by off-white tights and military boots. Not exactly sexy. I turned to look at Kris but he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the runway afraid to even look at me and just whispered “Don’t say a word”. And I didn’t, because I have first hand experience with how uncontrollably Kris will laugh when he first starts. And I am sure the fashion elite would probably not have appreciated two particularly unfashionable people making a scene on the first row. The only reason we had good seats anyway was a journalist friend ushering us onto the press stand when nobody was looking.
Anyhow, my feeling that my idea of a nice outfit would most certainly not impress the fashionistas of the capital was right. I felt pretty boring. But after seeing what some of them were willing to walk around in, and the outfits on the catwalk they were celebrating, I really didn’t mind. Boring works just fine for me.
After landing the invitations I spent a week pondering over questions like what does one wear to a fashion show, how many free drinks is it appropriate to consume and is it required to bring a gay accomplice?
Well, not all my time obviously as there were other pressing concerns demanding my attention too - like work, my recent single status and the horses of course. And in the end the horses made the decisions for me. Because I ran late with my lessons the alcohol and what to wear issues were pushed to the side by the more urgent question of whether I was going to make it there at all.
This gave me five minutes to get changed, apply make-up and make my hair semi-presentable. This led to my outfit being jeans, boots and a black top. I threw on a lacy top underneath for good measure – I’m sure I read somewhere that lace would be the big thing this coming summer. Then as I got in the car again I realized that what to me was next summer would in fashion terms be last summer as I was about to be presented with next winter’s trends tonight. Surely that would make now so last year. Besides, maybe it was floral prints, not lace. Anyway it was too late now.
I took some comfort in wearing boots with some heel on them, as surely that would at least make me as tall as the models considering I am already 6ft without them. Maybe that counted for something.
The number of free drinks were suddenly reduced to zero as I had the car with me and the location of the show was in a part of town I would never leave it over night however much expensive bubbly I got thrown after me.
As for company there was only really one candidate and yes he happens to be both horsey and gay. But more importantly he is my best friend and even bigger fan than me of the designer we were invited to see.
For a horsey girl I suppose I am above averagely interested in fashion. Whilst working in the horse industry I was frequently accused of being overdressed for mucking out and tacking up. Not that I was wearing heels or anything, but I have always had a certain fascination for good quality casual wear. And it looks like I was onto something, because in recent years the assortment of casual riding gear has exploded.
Now that I am in a “proper job” I have to pay a bit more attention, but especially in the winter the practical aspects of survival are more important to me than the latest fashion. I have been known to go to clubs with long sleeved tops to cover up the thermals! But I have to admit I do like my designer labels, although I tend to go for the more traditional stuff from Ralph Lauren and Armani when I do occasionally splash out.
After learning that next winter was all about high waisted wide legged trousers and short sleeved winter coats –clearly not for me then- it was time for newcomer of the year. And that’s when I realized that I really don’t get it. It looked like someone had gone mad with a glue gun and beads on some kind of plastic multicoloured material before making it into dresses that were too big, but yet too short for the models. And to top it off it was accompanied by off-white tights and military boots. Not exactly sexy. I turned to look at Kris but he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the runway afraid to even look at me and just whispered “Don’t say a word”. And I didn’t, because I have first hand experience with how uncontrollably Kris will laugh when he first starts. And I am sure the fashion elite would probably not have appreciated two particularly unfashionable people making a scene on the first row. The only reason we had good seats anyway was a journalist friend ushering us onto the press stand when nobody was looking.
Anyhow, my feeling that my idea of a nice outfit would most certainly not impress the fashionistas of the capital was right. I felt pretty boring. But after seeing what some of them were willing to walk around in, and the outfits on the catwalk they were celebrating, I really didn’t mind. Boring works just fine for me.
