Last night I forward-fell into a world of sporty socks and heeled moccasins, sheer printed dresses, the softest and most divine camel coats with leather stripes down the sides (for speed) and a pair of particularly lovely sequinned boxer shorts. It was Kate Sylvester's A/W launch in her Paddington store... there were models and miniature bottles of champagne, Deerhunter in stereo and a lot of trying on (A. LOT.)
On fair Oxford Street, where we lay our scene.
The models stripped to lace knickers and bras before getting dressed in different outfits in this little display, everything on show for the unsuspecting passers-by. Love the stunned expression on the guy walking past. I wish I'd got some snaps of the people driving past, all rolled-down windows and mouths agape.
Part of me cringed as the girls undressed; I wanted to look away and not because I'm a prude but because there was something voyeuristic about watching the women strip and dress even though the point of the display was precisely to look. The models didn't look at us as they changed, as they wouldn't- it wasn't bawdy and cheeky like a Victoria's Secret parade but rather a sort of onstage/off-stage feel, the distinction facilitated by the putting on and taking off of clothes. But the use of nudity in fashion is a whole other topic for another blogpost, I'll wave a flag of discomfort for now and voice the whisper that says quietly alongside the other stuff- the knickers and bras were really nice. There.
The blue of this dress!
Cue applause (and Kate Sylvester in the middle!)
And then- revelry.
Tracey and Kate (not Sylvester, a different Kate obvz)
The lovely Jeremy and myself (did I tell you about the time we found a silk cummerbund by Zegna and a double-breasted Valentino blazer amongst all the Gianni Vuittons and Louis Diors at an op-shop? That was right before I snaffled two pairs of Ferragamo heels for 30 bucks apiece. Yep.)
ps. the dot amongst my hair is a mole, let's just get that out of the way right now. It's funny to see peoples' eyes flicker from my face up and back when I part my hair in the centre- I don't mind having it but I take a wicked pleasure in making people uncomfortable when they tell me I have something in my hair (usually with a vague hand gesture above the crown of their head.) 'Uh, no. It's my mole. I was born with it' and then I fix them with a stare/glare depending on how cantankerous a mood I'm in.
Babe'in it up with Lindy and Katie. Both girls are wearing the new KS collection and I'm in a Lover dress with a velvet ribbon for a belt and those triple-leopard wedges.
The collection was inspired by the film 'Let the Right One In" which was a blogging hot favourite when it first hit the cinemas. It seemd to be a collegiate girl who embraces her darker more glamourous side- Ii think my favourite pieces were the dresses. There was a long silk dress the colour of emeralds and Atonement, and a Sixties long-sleeved sheath made out of moonshine- I mean, sequins- that demanded a cigarette holder and a slightly drunk Julianne Moore to wear it. But haunting the periphery of my mind is the camel swing coat but I want to go to a conference in the UK towards the end of the year and I can't! Can't I...? No, really I can't.