Thursday, September 24 Here's why I keep doing this: fashion moves so fast that if you blink, much less skip a show or forego an entire season, you may miss something. The next big moment, the latest epiphany, is right around the corner. So you have to see a million shows before you find one you love. A bit like dating, really.
The spring/summer '99 London shows officially start tomorrow, but there are preliminary events I'm told are worth going to.
At 6.30 on a warm evening, I head over to the tent venues set up near the Natural History Museum by the British Fashion Council as the official showground (although many designers go off and do their own thing). I'm here to see a collection by Bibi Russell, a Bangladeshi former model and now fashion designer based in Dhaka who has done something truly rare in the fashion world: a show in which the focus is not on her but on the unseen villagers who weave the fabric we all wear.
(Later, donations to benefit flood victims will be requested.) Ironically, someone has swiped my freebie, a fabric-covered bangle that was left on every seat. Bengali music starts up, and out come Bangladeshi models - many of whom have never left the country before - wearing woven cottons in rich, spicy colours made into simple outfits. There are musicians and dancers, and it's so well-meaning that I want to cry.
I look around and, of course, there are many empty seats. Fashion people are not comfortable with truly social events.
Friday, September 25 This is the real thing: thousands of buyers, journalists, retailers, stylists and every variety of hanger-on converges on the tents and the adjoining exhibition. It's 10 am and I'm waiting for the Tomasz Starzewski show to start. Starzewski is the sweet, pudgy designer who makes all those elegant evening gowns for Britain's Sloane Rangers. It's nice, but a bit Ivana Trump-ish - you know, grey silk trouser suits with embroidery, long black dresses. For the show they've been paired with fishnet tights and chunky-heeled white plastic sandals - what was the stylist thinking? I write 'a narrow repertoire' in my official catwalk report notebook, and move on.
Between shows, I come to blows with my new computer. I knew I should have bought those Blahniks instead.
