You'd be disappointed if I didn't, as I always do, give you my excuse. You see Work placements, guest bloggings, fashion editorings and third yearings leave little room for my voluntarily, low-readership, no-revenue blog, but hey I missed ya! Now this week's blog could have been any number of my neglected ideas in the past weeks of my Filofax, pencilled in in an effort that I might gather up the gusto to get on and blog and the amount of drafts I have lingering on blogger is just a little bit pathetic, so I'm gonna make use of some of them.
So while I've been away I have been fully fledged full-time working in the fashion industry to the point of saturation what with TellusFashion, The Bristol Tab and British Style Bloggers (yes, that's your cue to read all of my incredibly well written entries.) And having worked properly in the fashion industry now, and by properly I mean not just talking about myself on my laptop at home which I have recently stomped on and now has a crack in the screen so its a holy miracle that this post is going up, I have begun to recognise things that I really hate about it.
(In case you hadn't guessed this is symbolic of a love/hate relationship with fashion)
It's like when you start living with a boyfriend (I have no experience with this so this is purely guess work) and you start noticing those annoying habits, that is what has happened to me with the fashion industry. And like a boyfriend, which to me work actually is cause I'm a career monster who would rather work my arms off than deal with a dribbling moron, I still love it more than anything in the world (apart from maybe my sullen flat mate who I have to keep reminding that I love because she isn't in the best of moods due to illness) but I just need a way of venting and so here we go the things I hate most about the fashion industry....
Ego
I'm not on about other people's but my own. Being in the fashion industry and especially a journalist in the fashion industry I am required at all times to think the very most of myself. I have to believe that my word is gospel and that my taste is the only taste that matters in order to convince you lot that what I write isn't just a load of garbage. Blogging is an especially indulgent thing, sitting here typing complete and utter trash about myself and assuming that everyone cares that I cracked my laptop. They do not.
Run-throughs
This is something I experienced on Fashion Week. It is where a designer takes you through their collection piece by piece encouraging you to touch them and waiting for you to comment. Never done anything so awkward in my life. You are never going to tell as designer that you hate their clothes so you have to say you like them. But how many ways are there for you to say 'mmm yeah that's really nice' and 'yeah I like it' hopeless.
Street Style Photographers
Came across a fair few of these in London and there is no positive way around them. If you don't get picked to be photographed you feel like the ugliest, most unstylish person in the world, especially if someone takes a photograph of your companion and tells you that you're 'blocking the frame.' And if you do get photographed you suddenly pull the most awkward pose in the world and hope to God that it doesn't go to print.
(Kiss of death)
Pretentious
I'm already quite the pretentious little brat and spending a month up in London did not help the situation in the slightest. Here are some of the hugely pretentious things that living in London encouraged me to do:
-ate lucky charms bought from Selfridges for breakfast
-purchased champagne flavoured Vaseline
-bought beef wellington and even worse milk (twice) from Harrods
-pre-drank on prosecco and then bought 3 further glasses on a night out
-bought a six pack of Sanpellegrino Limonata
-asked for extra bags in selfridges just so it looked like I bought more
-crossed roads assuming cars would stop for me
-expected to just walk into shows and not be on the guest list having a 'do you know who i am moment' same with clubs and not even grotty ones, I'm talking Mayfair.
-got my nails done 3 times in the space of two weeks at 3 upmarket spas.
-ordered Purdey's at lunch.
-bought my shower gel from Penhallogans and cake mix from selfridges.
-wore both a feather gilet and a wool coat at the same time.
-pretentious enough to pronounce Mary Katrantzou's name correctly and even correct others on it.
-pretentious enough to remain expressionless throughout an entire fashion show without the help of filler.
(Despite all this I have remained unpretentious enough to still drink vodka out of a Fanta bottle in a public loo, though it was the Liberty's loo.)
(Wouldn't be surprised if you had no time for me after this)
Heels
Obvious choice. Women who wear heels to work obvious have chauffeurs and aren't stumbling about on the tube's escalators like a newborn giraffe.
Fashion Week Posers
Possibly the most offensive part of fashion week. A select few, and they are easily spotted, hang around outside Somerset House purely trying to get papped for street style. Recognised by standing head on, alone, performing repeat visits to Somerset House and conducting fake phone calls. You can tell that these are fake phone calls because the phone conservation doesn't include conversation, and the phone is held away from the face so as not to ruin hair/ makeup.
(This nonsense is what I'm on about, and please check out the groin area)
Designer's Bows
At the end of every show designers come out to take a bow. They are without a doubt the most pathetic bows I have ever seen, more like an awkward squat. They try and spend as little time as possible on the runway. Not being funny mate but I spent a lot of time sneaking into your show, I want a decent bow.
(Peter Copping at Nina Ricci, awkward as ever)
Shallow Industry
I watch programs like '999 what's your emergency?' and can't help but feel like I am picking a totally selfish career choice. I'm not helping anyone. I'm encouraging you that there is a right and a wrong way to dress and actually being who you want to be doesn't work and that everything revolves around looks. Not very liberal ey? I'm required to judge you by your appearance (well not specifically you, I'm sure you look beautiful) but worst of all I wouldn't want to do anything else in the world. What a selfish bitch.
Well there you are, you have your blog post but now I have serious doubts about my career choice. Nice one.
Hopefully see you next week!
