I've moved on...
...to a different domain. Why, what were you thinking? The truth is, I just woke up one day and decided it's time for a change—a metamorphosis, if you will; or, in layman's terms, if Britney can shave her head, then maybe so can I? Nevertheless, it's been a rather handsome 10 years of talking to you, and thank you for putting up with all my moodswings and terrible dad jokes. Fear not! The hormonal imbalance and jokes are more terrible on CUBICLE, see you there.

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Front-facing catwalk images from Fashion GPS via Topshop, all others by Park & Cube

Aside from the usual stack of multi-coloured foodstuff/beetroot juices (all made by elves, I swear) inhaled by fashion-folk as their first meal of the day at 2pm, and Arya Stark looking all kinds of fierce/cute in the corner, Topshop had a slightly different take on things this time round. This was the second season- while not consecutive – they’d set up camp at the Tate Modern, and instead of the usual fenced-off/dungeon venue broadcast via narrow fire optics and blurry inta-sight by attendees, whoever that happened to be visiting the Tate that oddly sunny Sunday held, in essence, one of the most highly coveted tickets of LFW. The mezzanine offered a vantage point over the entire catwalk and FROWers, and while show goers did the tennis-ball chase with our respective devices, eyeballs, what have you, over the catwalk, the public saw the collection from the privileged Style.com point of view. While I suspect it wouldn’t have made much sense to a lot of the people that watched (‘can you buy those clothes tomorrow?‘ I heard a girl ask) it was admirable of Topshop to embrace such a straightforward approach to ‘public relations’ that suits a brand that is, at the end of the day, an accessible, high-street brand loved by girls across the UK. 

On a separate note, watch me skin a giant teddy bear next fall and wear that over rebellious schoolgirl garbs.