Gemma Cartwright writes...
London Fashion Week is coming. I wish I could say I'm excited, but the truth is I'm petrified. I love the clothes, but I hate the stress. Already the walls of my desk are covered in schedules, 'to do' lists, business cards and hastily scrawled lists of email addresses. Planning CQ's attack on the tents is like a military operation. The world of fashion may be embracing the web now, but we're still a long way from having tickets to the Matthew Williamson show land on our desk without any previous legwork (*sob*). And then, of course, there's the more pressing matter. When the week finally rolls around...what the hell am I going to wear?
Excuse me for stating the obvious, but the way you look matters at Fashion Week. It'll come as no surprise to any of you that this whole fashion lark is incredibly superficial. Luckily for me and my girls, London Fashion Week is all about creativity, so there's an element of 'anything goes' about the whole affair which is good when you live on a budget. You can easily wear an old favourite or something from last season if you're creative enough to give it a new twist.
Problem is, I'm not anymore. I think I've fallen into a bit of a fashion rut of late. It involves getting up, trying to get my fringe to lie flat, choosing which particular dress from my huge collection to wear that day, putting on some mascara and slipping my feet into whatever comfy flat shoes are nearest. This isn't how it used to be. I used to wear heels, change my makeup colours on a daily basis, straighten my hair and accessorise like a mad woman (but not like a WAG). I'm not quite sure what went wrong, but I think it started with my nice warm bed and ended with the ridiculous unreliability of the Piccadilly Line.
It gets worse. Last week I wore trainers. I don't know who was more surprised, me or my colleagues.
I don't know what caused this lapse in effort on my part. Possibly the awful weather, which saw me succumbing to leggings and footless tights, brightly coloured Summer coats and stupid printed brollies. Or perhaps it was my holiday, when I spent two weeks with no full length mirror, no hairdryer and far too many 'easywear' jersey tops and dresses. Whatever it was, I've returned to work a shadow of the overdressed idiot I used to be. And I miss her, so I've decided to use Fashion Week as an excuse to get back into my old habits. I've always championed the idea of dressing like a woman, making an effort and going glam at every opportunity...it's about time I took my own advice. I don't think I'll be pulling the five inch heels out of hiding for work just yet (there is a lot of standing around at LFW) but I am going to go back to my old faithfuls - jewellery, quirky hairdos, Stila smudgepots - in an attempt to prove I have the right to be there in the first place.
And, you know, I might buy myself a few new things as well, just for that confidence boost...
