Another day, another realisation I’ve left it far too late to get ready. An outfit is hastily pulled together – vintage Moschino skirt, black bodysuit, Alexander McQueen cape rented from My Wardrobe HQ – and my day begins by doing makeup in the back of the car; I forgo the eyeliner after one attempt sees a line drawn halfway down my cheek.
In all honesty, I ended yesterday feeling somewhat under-stimulated by everything I’d seen on the runways. There were some standouts, like Harris Reed and his delectable harlequin sequins and whiskey cocktails, but generally speaking, few designers seemed keen on breaking boundaries in ways that have come to define this industry. Everything seemed more pared back than usual, which makes me wonder whether LFW is becoming a slave to European minimalism, or if we’re starting to see just how hard Covid-19 has been tugging on the industry’s purse strings.
