What’s it called when you hit a certain age (or ‘life stage’, given age does not equate experience) and you’ve tried everything at least once and nothing truly phases you anymore, or makes you tingle, or rouses those wild butterflies in your stomach? Nonplussness? NONPLUSSISM? I have that. I think I AM that: Captain Nonplus. It all started with a teenage ploy around Y2K to seem socially ‘cooler’, to appear as though opportunities should be grateful to have found my divine, supple presence. Except, this pretence has now stuck as a pesky personality trait. So much so, that my public reaction to the Beyonce & Jay-Z joint album was a ‘meh’ and a shrug. YOU MAY CALL THE POLICE.

Internally of course, and in the privacy of my own padded cell room and hi-fi system, I too praised hip-hop royalty.

This is why surrounding yourself with people that still gasp, or make other similarly satisfying appreciative noises, is crucial. My team is my vita, hence. This is why Graduate Fashion Week is so important. Isn’t the giddy excitement of young, unbridled enthusiasm practically palpable (at the risk of sounding like a dementor)? When frazzled nerves meet performer’s adrenaline, as years of experimentation is combed into artistically/commercially viable collection, then presented on a stage… all of this generates a sort of zing that keeps the jaded industry feel something again.

This, my second year of supporting the Tu scholarship collection, is in part a selfish way of reminding myself of the sparkle – wedging myself into the pie, for which the main ingredient is young talent, a spoonful of zeal, a dash of rock & roll and mentoring by way of Henry Holland. More on this soon.

Jumpsuit – Tu Clothing. Boots – Coach.