Illustration by Abby Wright
The BFC Tent is massive. Or a lot bigger than the other show spaces. But the benches are the same; white and hard. I went to where I was supposed to be seated and realised it was smack bang in the middle of an already super full bench. I went to the end of the bench; “Any…? No, no, ok then. Thanks.” Luckily a man on the bench behind saved me by shifting up a bit and motioning towards the space he’d made. “Ah wonderful, thanks!” I sort of wanted to chat with him, but found the non-moving up people – now before me- much more interesting. Yabbering and air kissing their faces off with some other people in another row. They went from exceptionally animated and friendly to bored and motionless in second. They reminded me of whippets. The BFC was packed, rammed, up to the brim. Before long, it went dark. The wall of photographers were in their pyramid, like hyeneas, eyes blazing, they were poised…some of them taking shots for no apparent reason. Or, just in case something ridiculous happens.
Photo by Amelia Gregory
Big shoulders, high necklines, victoriana, huge circle skirts, sashes over shoulders, trouser suits with extra long legs and short jackets, balooning at the middle slightly, and beautiful midi length skirt suits with puffed shoulders. The shoes were angular or strappy, and the hair either blown up, or short and sharply pointed. But as the show continued, the more dramatic it became. The start featured outfits you could happily wear to a whole host of occasions, all fitted, 60s shapes with Victorian influences, in reds, black, grey and teal, but then it went MAD.