Tag Archives: London Fashion Week

Of late


Prophetik A/W 2012 LFW

Darling, I’m sorry I have been so vague of late. The driving rain hitting the east wing has meant the west, is almost sunny and dry. I have been sitting there, pondering and working away on several things. Including burrowing away on issue two, which has simply flourished. Oh to release an issue in the sweet spring. I look forward to it and endeavour to update you on the goings on in the west. For now, please indulge in the Lionheart scribes from this February’s A/W London Fashion Week, where I was captivated, as if within the embellishment of a beautiful jacket.

London Fashion Week (for me)

For some reason, the weather was extremely warm and muggy. Just a few days earlier, I had been cycling down a monstrous hill in the eye of a hurricane, my hands tingling as they became like blue paws, fingers redundant trying to do up buttons. Today though, my tweedy high waisted trousers, boots and jacket; reddened my cheeks as I dashed through London. Dash being the correct word for when one wears a panama such as the new beauty I had donned this morning. Found near the Mulberry shop in ‘The Country’, I feel like I’m in Brief Encounter when I wear it and long to wear the thing full time. As soon as I purchased it (or Charlie did – for my upcoming birthday – LFW was a special circumstance, it’s away again now), I started wondering why people stopped wearing hats as a matter of necessity.

For me I find it easier to wear hats than nail varnish. I feel more comfortable with a hat – that could have been worn by a spy – than red, shiny talons. Hats talk too. They can be loud and obnoxious, symbolic of attitudes, feathery/sparkly/wiry and flouncy, as well as terribly polite. My panama is definitely a polite hat, straightening my back as soon as its placed. Thinking of it has even made me write as I would speak in an argument with someone I felt intellectually threatened by. That said, clearly with the tweed, I could/may have looked like a 70s horse rider.

I love London Fashion Week. It’s flamboyance, inspiration and ridiculousness on the outside – strutting the cobbles, pouting with moody exuberance – is its shell. The outside is exciting and fun, but feels like a sparkly coat, or Narnia’s cupboard door. Inside – the fashion shows – are the true, beating heart of the fandango. Mesmerising and theatrical, each model wafting down the catwalk, transports to a story. Maybe the beginning, or the end, each one interpreted from what is known or imagined.

Corrie Nielsen A lady in black, with peplums jutting out from her hips; her bodice is fitted and her hair reminiscent of the nineteenth century, as well as Oriental sweeps of precise volume. The vision creates something sombre, but delicate. With Japanese imagination, Haruki Murakami’s cats in the distance and vast mountains whispering with a mixture of comfort, solice and trepidation. The lady is alone.

I love how every model’s eyes look into the distance, peering out from the middle of the context of which they were created. They’re walking to the next chapter of their book, into a bank of photographer’s lenses, who sit at the entrance of the rabbit hole, capturing the textiles of a designer’s imagination.

Michael Van Der Ham mood board

For me, London Fashion Week is a stark reminder of the power of adorning the body with creative beauty, subject to a thousand influences, born from the mind of one person. Of the wonder of imagination and of art. Whether we like the designs or not, the minutes sat on a bench, or looking at a screening of any show, will always conjure up something new. The body is a wonderful device; to see it dressed, decorated and celebrated, is exhilarating.

For me.

I’m talking about celebrating art, design and people. We are all influenced and inspired in our lives in different ways, expressing this through words or art, will never fail to strike something within me. However this love only transcends so far, and I desperately need time alone after days at events such as this. Talking to no one is as much of a necessity as the existence of the material itself. My polite hat helps me gain this in the beautiful storms of a city.

Amelia’s Magazine FASHION POSTS from LONDON FASHION WEEK A/W 2011: No.1 Jena.Theo


Illustration by Matilde Sazio

I was ushered in through the door by a geezer of a Londoner chap, straight through to a high heeled officious lady. Then again to the very highest heels clinking their way to the front row to show me my seat. The FRONT ROW. This was pleasing to say the least. And there were bags on my seat. Bags filled with goodies. Splendid. The lady next to me was bouncing her baby on her knee, as said baby was knawing on a pain au chocolat. “Nice earmuffs” I said to the tiny fashionista, pointing towards the penguin earmuffs on her head. “To protect her from the sound. It can get very loud. But she does love it here. Loves the shows.” How much do I want a chilled out, cute baby like her? Also, cool mother! I know mothers who wouldn’t take their child to Tescos for fear of its screaming the flourescently lit shed down. I looked around properly, and saw straight backed women before me. Unsmiling, with notepads on their laps and twitter at their fingertips. No one was without a smart phone. Comfortingly others were holding cameras possibly at the same level as mine, not everyone had the enormous lensed beasts. This made me feel infinitely better about my black device with sand trapped in the lens from every holiday in the last three years and glitter from an explosion at a festival last year. It makes me slightly sad to see it sprinkle on my lap when I take the lens cap off. Nostalgic particles… To the left, I felt like I was getting an immense tan however from the mad, bright white, highly lit, flashing, mini bulb, sensation. It was just INTENSE; magic eye, transfixing, blinding… The lady next to me shielded the left hand side of her face for a bit. We briefly discussed the perils of giant screens of mini light bulbs. SUCH a drag. Then it all went dark and we were treated to intro music as the anticipation was allowed to be built. Dum, dum, dum….dum… dum. EXCITED. Most of the opposite front row remained attached to the twit or without expression.


Photo by Matt Bramford

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SO today I will be at London Fashion Week.

Later I hope to tell you what happened. If I have not collapsed. I have thought a lot about what to wear and decided that comfort and warmth is central. Despite what I may have originally thought. I will try my best to document my experience as truthfully as possible. Being a newbie I expect sore feet, waiting, coldness and massive judgement. Being super fashion focused, I will try and do a – ‘what I wore each day’. Obviously being ‘freelance’ essentially means I am skint, so I have had to improvise greatly. I am still debating whether a cape is ‘too last season’. But it will be nice to actually wear clothes as opposed to my ‘freelance outfit’. This is why I love going for coffees and meetings, I really enjoy wearing pretty things and not being in the flat 9-5. Or at least, making an effort for more than Francois. Perhaps I should have been a business woman? I do like a pencil skirt. Who knows. I have made my choices and they have led me to my first LFW.

Keep reading my blog everyday and I will regale my stories. From the base line!