LFW, The Week of Fashion, whatever you want to call it London Fashion Week is upon us and in full swing.
If like me the Tatler fairy didn’t deliver you a front row ticket, it’s perhaps hard to feel involved especially if you aren’t in the Capital.
Yet that’s not damping my mood this morning. While playing tug of war with Boo using my clothes as the rope I’m already looking forward to making a quick dash to Starbucks after our 9 am appointment to connect to their Wi-Fi so we can catch Mulberry’s Spring Summer 2013 Show live online from 10 am.
Even the teaser is effortlessly glam!
Is the live steaming of fashion shows a dilution of London Fashion Week? Am I their target audience? Yes I have a slight fetish when it comes to Mulberry in particular their bags (I fear this may have been inherited by Boo) but am I likely to spend thousands of pounds on the capsule collection of SS 2013? Probably not.
For me London Fashion Week is about seeing the best of British designers in anyway that I can so if that means for half an hour or so I look slightly deranged sat in Starbucks with a yodeling one year old while I’m oohing and aahing with perhaps even the odd swoon over a particular outfit then so be it.
Fashion is an expression available to all and for me London Fashion Week is a lovely big reminder that I am a Mummy. Yes. Mumsie. No.
