Fashion Feet Creep

Unfortunately working for a fashion designer does not always imply non-stop fashion shows and parties. Instead, I have to rely on friends and contacts in the industry and, if that doesn’t work, a dynamic personality can go a long way – okay, okay a pushy one. On day 2 of London fashion week, my colleague and I arrived half an hour early for the Qasimi show without a ticket. While we anxiously queued, surrounded by masses of beautifully branded oversized invitations each with their categorized coloured dots, it became largely apparent to our fellow queuers we did not possess one of these special passes. As we got to the entrance, I awkwardly blagged our way in by quietly stating that Elliott said it was fine to come in and stand. Okay not as embarrassing as actually saying “I know the designer”, but it was equally as uncomfortable. Anyway mission accomplished, we were in. Thankfully I tackled the polished marble stairs in my vintage heels with ease, even avoiding a collision with Anna Popplewell having her photo taken half way up. It was certainly a grand affair. The venue was in Westminster’s central hall and the crowd were certainly dressed for the occasion including Bianca Jagger in the front row. As the enigmatic violinists played on the main catwalk the PR agency called each dotted section at a time. Knowingly we hung our heads in shame and skulked to the back taking advantage of the seated area outside in preparation for the long stand. My feet are really starting to hurt but you can’t wear practical shoes on occasions like these, can you?

It’s day 3 and not only do I have a ticket with a dotted sticker I am also seated! Good job too as I’m wearing my new Camilla Staerk suede platforms and I have a feeling they may start to pinch. As the organisers open the doors to the Eley Kishimoto show there is a familiar feeling of that all important coloured dot that allows you to be seated first. I eventually settle in my place and begin people watching. With the likes of Colin McDowell, Suzy Menkes and Diane Pernet in the front row, the crowd are buzzing. However, you begin to realise it is not only the crowd noise that is filling your ears. Irritatingly, sounds of children playing are filling the BFC tent signifying the collection’s theme of Little Devils. If I wasn’t sitting, I may have run out. After the show, I try and find a convenient spot to change shoes to avoid anymore anguish. I realise there is no point in being subtle after viewing the fashion elite openly downsizing to flats in the tube carriage. Thank goodness for oversized bags.

Day 4 and I’m back to standing. This time we have to meet my friend outside the venue to get our tickets. As I anxiously wait for my friend to call me I hope that my decision to wear my half heeled ankle boots, or more lovingly known as Chelsea wellies, was a wise decision after all. Thankfully we make contact and arrange to meet at the black iron gates where my friend passes our Jenny Packham tickets through the bars. With little time before the show starts, or so we think, we run to our designated line as the seated people are being let in. However too little avail. Yet another beyond fashionably late start, we stand in our line-up for 45 minutes. Feet creep has set in as my muscles tense up in agony. As we finally pile in, we spy two seated places. Heaven, and the dresses weren’t half bad either.



Photo taken of Jade Parfitt modelling in the Qasimi show