London Fashion Week: Day 5

Mary Katrantzou’s sublime floral prints; backstage before Roksanda Ilinicic’s show.

By the final day of Fashion Week, we are all feeling the tiredness and fashion-lag in a big way, so it takes quite the show to get us all excited in a big way. Mary Katrantzou’s show (always a favourite) was the perfect way to start the day; she sent models down the runway (a runway planted with a thousand carnations, no less) in the most wonderful flowerbed and deep seascape dresses that looked as though the waves were undulating as the models walked. After that, it was on to Roksanda Ilincic, who was again showing in the magnificent and grand Institute of Director’s building on Pall Mall. The models looked like 50s Balenciaga haute couture girls, in a jewel-box palette of pink ruby, emerald green, citrine and garnet.

After Osman’s beautiful show (all sorbet pastels and silk dresses), it was on to two of the highlights of Fashion Week which, happily, were saved for last. Anya Hindmarch’s presentation, held in the abandoned Strand underground station, was an absolute delight. It looked exactly as you imagine an old railway station should; ticket booths, flower stalls, a kiosk (where the bags looked like newspapers, and we got to take home a goody bag of sweets and chocolate cigarettes and vintage London postcards), squishy leather booths and, of course, divine handbags (perched atop piles of lost property). Finally, Meadham Kirchhoff’s show was so fun, it is almost indescribable. The only way I can put it is this: it felt like a bag of Dolly Mix sweets had exploded all over my childhood fantasies of fairytales and princes and high school dances (I’ll just have to tell you more about that later). And with that, it was farewell to Somerset House and London Fashion Week for another season.

Meadham Kirchhoff’s sacharine sweet extravaganza; Anya Hindmarch’s underground presentation; beautiful whispers of petal pink on the runway at Osman; farewell, Somerset House!

I hope you’ve enjoyed my daily LFW posts? What would you like to see more of?

Love, Miss B xx

London Fashion Week: Day 4

To say Giles’ show was theatrical extravagance would be an understatement; a sea of crimson at Antonio Berardi.

As far as Fashion Week adventures go, this day is going to be pretty hard to top. It began with Peter Pilotto’s remarkable print dresses which took us on a journey through Indonesia, followed by Antonio Berardi’s devastatingly sexy ladies in red at the Queen Elizabeth Centre. Poor Christopher Kane, the wonder boy of the London fashion scene, gets so much expectation heaped upon him each season, that the pressure must be crippling. But once again he pulled it out of the bag with his twinkly show (think Cher Horowitz in Clueless meets Marcia Brady, doused in sparkles) which overlooked St Paul’s Cathedral.

After that, it was off to the Savoy for Erdem’s show which was so beautiful, I held my breath almost the entire time (these were exactly the kind of clothes I imagine one should wear to a garden party thrown by Daisy Buchanan in the Great Gatsby), before Burberry’s typically understated show in Kensington Park (not really: Christopher Bailey had erected an monolithic glass marque right in the shade of the Albert Memorial, with a shower of gold confetti replacing last season’s snow storm finale). Next was Todd Lynn, whose usual storm-trooping women had been replaced by softer creatures in oil-slick blue silk dresses.

And just in case we hadn’t had quite enough sartorial extravagance for the day, there was Giles Deacon’s feathered tour-de-force in the sweeping Royal Courts of Justice, before Temperley’s glamazons again took over the sweeping atrium of the British Museum for the most dramatic of Fashion Week finales.

A sea of pink champagne awaits after the Burberry show; Christopher Kane’s sparkly finale; the Great Gatsby at Erdem; glamour, Temperley style, at the British Museum.

Love, Miss B xx

London Fashion Week: Day 3

Sunshine yellow on the runway for Mulberry’s seaside carnival; Charlotte Olympia’s adorable retro poolside glamour.

Day 3 could not have been more fun. We began the day with Margaret Howell’s unshowy loveliness (her shows are always held in her boutique, and are all about breton stripes and chic relaxed tailoring) before racing off to Claridges for Mulberry. There is never any doubt that I will love Mulberry’s shows, but when I saw an ice cream van parked outside the venue (serving Mulberry flavoured ice cream, naturally) and a thousand inflatable animal balloons greeting us upon entry, I knew instantly I would adore the retro seaside funfair theme they had going on this year (sitting opposite Kate Moss didn’t hurt my excitement levels either).

After that, it was on to Richard Nicholl, whose show was a fun view of 60s futurism in shades of blue and blush pvc and silk chiffon. Nicole Farhi’s floral extravaganza (showing, appropriately enough, at the Royal Horticultural Society) was lovely, but if I were honest, I’d tell you I spent the whole show time blushing over the fact that my stockings had decided to spontaneously ladder as I walked past Anna Wintour (those who know fashion know the fear this would incite, even with new season Miu Miu-clad feet).

Charlotte Olympia’s salon show was as much of a treat as last season – the models draping themselves across deck chairs as though sunning themselves poolside in Miami, circa 1960. Then it was on to Topshop Unique in the old Eurostar terminal at Waterloo, to Marios Schwab, and to Matthew Williamson in the most jaw-dropping locale of the week thus far – the turbine hall at the Tate Modern. And it being Fashion Week, the day wouldn’t be complete without a soiree or three, so it was off to the Saville Club to kick up our heels with Glenda Bailey and Harpers Bazaar before carnival games, cocktails, and some dancing to the Hurts at the Mulberry party.

Backstage at Topshop Unique before the show; feathered coral party dresses at Matthew Williamson; 60s futurism in shades of blue at Richard Nicholl.

What have been your highlights from Fashion Week so far?

Love, Miss B xx