This week it was Paris's turn to sparkle in the lime-light - it was the finale of the AW13 collections - AKA Paris Fashion Week. Just like the brands they showcase, the fashion capitals go in and out of favour but everyone has a soft spot for Paris, maybe because it mixes powerhouse brands like Chanel, Celine and Saint Laurent with favourite rebel brands like Junya Watanabe and Gareth Pugh or maybe it’s because it spells the end of traipsing around the globe and a chance to get home, unpack the Louis Vuitton luggage and climb into your old favourite flea bitten sweats, or is that just me...?
As I arrived at London's St Pancras International at the crack of dawn, I quickly realized that I'd found myself on the 'Fashion Train'. When moving between cities over Fashion weeks, you run the risk of finding yourself on the one train (or plane) that seemingly the entire industry has booked too. This is always quite amusing. No one buys a tabloid, no one buys the obligatory fruit Mentos and there are no lived-in comfy old travel clothes to be found. Instead, the platforms become a runway; hair is coiffed, lippy is on and heels are high - even the luggage is new season. It’s quite the spectacle let me tell you.
Overall, Paris was a little lacking in creativity, which was the only new thing about it, but who cares, it was Paris. The clear winner was American born Alexander Wang - the new Creative Director at Balenciaga - who nailed his first collection for the house. Predictably, there was crazy yet incredible tailoring at Comme des Garcons, loads of black at Costume National, clean lines at Celine and something vanilla about Chloe – all a bit yawn, although somehow in Paris - often known as the 'City of Light' – the shine couldn’t be dimmed - it was Paris.
All of a sudden it was time to leave and head home to London with Fashion Month behind me. Leaving most of the industry at the continuing shows, I found myself on the very-far-away-from-fashion-train, jeez, this was 'Armpit-of-Tourism-Train' at best. Suitcases they can't lift, seats they can’t find, more snacks and magazines they would ever be able to get through from Paris to London, even if they walked and more K-Way anoraks than you could shake a stick at – in other words...erm...well, horrible - and this was before I was approached by the 'Unhygien-asaur'. I'm commonly mistaken for being rather unapproachable at first glance but apparently not to everyone. A feral smelling woman asked to swap seats with me - to which I agreed - only for her to tell me her seat was FOURTEEN coaches down. Man, I really need to perfect my unapproachable look. Several coaches of falling into some passenger's laps and garroting others with my Macbook I cursed my upbringing of being obliging when asked nicely but on quick reflection I was relieved to be sitting fourteen coaches away from that smell. Needless to say, somewhere between coaches 1 and 14 the fashion bubble had well and truly burst.
So with the shows over, what happens next? Who knows. The Paris collections may have been somewhat predictable but this is fashion after all...anything can happen and hell, that's why we love it..."
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