The fashion industry is fond of its hierarchies, which are more often than not its lifeblood. Who’s in, who’s out, who’s new and cool, rather than — heaven forbid — boring.
At The Fashion Awards this evening the Royal Albert Hall will, like any fashion show worth its throngs of fans outside, be configured to represent the tiers of the industry. The golden titans will perch on the stage-skirting central tables hosted by mega brands (but which brand, and which celebrities you get sat next to again raise the stakes), then pecking orders decreasing into box seats and paying punters up in the gods. Your outfit will demarcate you too. Are you wearing a hot off the runway sample? Or, “Oh wow, are those just your own old clothes?” The visceral approximation of personal standing at these events is humbling to say the least. Often it drives grown-ups to tears.
