London’s Calling: LFW Chapter One

London Fashion Week. Also known as London Fashion Weak. When hoards of fashion luvvies strap on their highest platform wedges, don the most obnoxious pair of sunglasses they can get their Tom Binns-laden mitts on, and start saying things like ‘Dahhling, what a fabulous show.’ As I tend to my poor, blistered, fashion-weak tootsies, I bring you the first part of my say on London’s best offerings (and the shows we’d rather forget about).

Oh, Luella. Every season I try not to like your kitschy florals, ladylike ruffles, and flippy prom dresses, and every season I fail. Miserably. The kooky witch girls of her Autumn/Winter show were nowhere to be seen, as Dot-Cottons-on-acid trotted down the catwalk in zingy orange frills, lavender blue ruffles, and Barbie-style, multicoloured, stack heels. A year on, last Spring’s Luella girl has not changed completely – her thick-rimmed cats eye spectacles invoked Enid from the cult film Ghostworld, which inspired the S/S ’07 collection – but simply grown-up. Long-line college cardigans were swapped for shorter, secretary styles, underneath which lay subtly sheer, ruffle-detail blouses, and pearl-chained handbags replaced boxy satchels. Bartley retained the British charm of her past collections, with a cropped, candy striped hunting jacket and oversized, pink riding hat that provided a quirky take on traditional country attire.

Danielle Scutt (otherwise known as ‘that art school type who likes denim a whole lot’) showed a collection that was a little bit Grease, a tad nineties (cropped tops alert!), a smidgen eighties, and a whole lot rockabilly, and managed to cross-pollinate these potential fashion no-nos with surprising success. The fashion crowd witnessed rockabilly-style, turned-up jeans (Katie Holmes, you have A LOT to answer for), African-style head wraps, and one utterly fabulous, skin-tight, striped polo neck dress, all paired with ‘Croydon facelift’ hair which was twisted into rope braids. But there were enough typically Scutt pieces, such as the oversized, denim jacket, checkered lycra leotard, and multiple kaftans, to keep the die-hard Scutt fanatics happy.

Just as we were all recovering from that (thankfully) dying trend of ‘walking into a charity/vintage shop, picking out the most ugly, ill-fitted, shoulder-padded dress, and wearing it to one’s local discoteque with some battered old stilettos from the nineties, and matching waist belt and lippie’ (phew), Topshop Unique had to go and regurgitate everything that was bad about the eighties. Believe me, I was almost won over by the sharp, YSL-inspired, sleeveless blazers, I can never resist a cuffed, peg-leg trouser, and I am willing to embrace any excuse to whip out the ol’ skinny white jeans from 2006, but Topshop, dearest, wonderful Topshop, the love heart-print Ab Fab jacket, and those hideous ‘soccer mom’ jeans were a step too far. And don’t get me started on that tactastic ‘Kiss-o-meter’ tank dress, that will no doubt be adorning the malnourished bodies of every scenester from here to Hoxton. But amongst the frightening bomber-jackets-and-matching shorts and acrylic boiler suits, came a most covetable Crombie coat and blazer dress, like fashion phoenixes rising up from a really terrible Duran Duran video remake.