Issue 3: A London Fashion Week Diary, As Told By My Bags
HANDBAGS AT DAWN // Summing up the unnecessary, highly emotional and anxiety-inducing experience of sitting and staring at models as they walk down a catwalk...
Handbags at Dawn (@h4ndbagsatdawn) is usually a fortnightly newsletter that lands into your inbox every other Thursday. This is a special edition of HBAD.
So, London Fashion Week just happened. The collections were designed for the Autumn/Winter 2022 season, which barely meant something, as most designers presented a mix of shorts, micro skirts, macro puffer jackets, knitwear, and slutty tops. BUT this is not about those designers and their incredible work. It’s rather about my introspective emotional journey and the state of mind that evolved over the five days of LFW.
Once upon a time, London Fashion Week used to present a pinnacle of what I wanted to do and be. When I was 19 and working as a fashion and features assistant for the Croatian edition of ELLE (chic), I decided to go to fashion week. This meant nothing to my boss at the time as I was barely getting paid to do work and they weren’t even covering my expenses. They were, however, generous enough to say “sure, you can go and pretend you’re supposed to be there,” and allow me to apply for show tickets as a representative of the magazine.
For some odd reason, probably because I had ‘ELLE’ on my accreditation, I was granted VIP access to the official LFW lounge, which had free food and drinks provided for press in between shows. As someone who hadn’t been given much for free in his life, this made me feel like I was on top of the world as I munched on some bland quinoa salad while rubbing shoulders with Suzy Menkes and Anna Dello Russo. Those two women represented my Devil Wears Prada-esque image of fashion. One had a signature hairstyle while the other had just nailed an H&M collab. I mean, wow – this was the real deal.
One show I particularly remember attending was Simone Rocha, who today is arguably the biggest name on the LFW schedule. At the time, she was showing as part of Topshop’s (RIP) platform, and the venue was half empty so I got bumped forward from third to second row. I still have the ‘Simone Rocha’ pencil and mini notebook that were given on the seats. Those two objects truly symbolise a moment in time where I felt like my job was utterly fabulous.
To so many people, fashion shows are a symbol of luxury, endorsed by satirical moments from Ab Fab or Ugly Betty. And don’t get me wrong – it feels beyond luxurious to be sat staring at ridiculously good looking people wearing nice-ish garbs. But there is also something completely transactional about the notion of sitting down in your assigned row, measuring the room full of people you ‘know' and waiting for the loud music to finish.
As my lovely friend G. noted as we grabbed discounted sushi from Selfridges after one of the shows this season, the sense of magic has been taken out of the experience as we began to understand the hows, whos and whys of what we do. Who wrote those show notes? Why did they work with *that* stylist this season? How the f*** did she end up in the front row? You get those annoying people who pretend they haven’t already met you five times as they try to dodge your look but are then forced to re-introduce themselves for the sixth time when a lovely PR person sits them next to you. You sometimes get sat next to a person who you know slagged you off or maybe even blocked you on Instagram for tagging them in a meme (true story). The tension before the show rises when you’ve got nothing else to do but either be on your phone (rude) or stare at someone sat across from you (awkward). And all of this does end up affecting your mental health, against better judgement.
The whirlwind of fashion week used to be an essential part of my work when I worked at a magazine. As a privileged freelancer, I mostly get to choose what I want to do. So you’d think I would do everything to avoid this potentially anxious experience and simply stay at home. But it’s the same reasons doctors or business people go to conferences – to see familiar faces you might not have seen in a while, to stay in touch, feel a bit more relevant, and give broader context to your own work. Look, I’m not usually a FOMO queen, but the fear of missing out hits the hardest during fashion week season – even if there’s realistically very little interesting things happening. Perhaps I’ve become way too cynical, but the hoo-ha around it is much more enticing than the event itself.
But I did go, as forced by my vanity and an inner need to feel accepted by the industry I work in. My only mental health support in those moments? A few smiling faces from people I actually enjoy talking to, some breathing techniques I acquired via Headspace, and – of course – my bags.
So instead of giving you yet another summary of the best clothes you won’t see in the shops for another six months, below is a synopsis of five days of fashion week, as told through my purses.
DAY 1
I arrived at the first venue three hours early because I looked at an old version of the schedule and never checked the digital ticket for the individual show. The only thing that made me feel a bit better was this adorable beaded floral bag in colours that matched the rest of my look, as I kept caressing it like it was a pet. So I tried making my way back home, before being stuck on public transport due to one of the storms, and then finally getting to my flat only to have a glass of water and depart again. I got to see shows by Saul Nash (Stunning! Dance! Sportswear! He’s also lovely!) and Poster Girl (Sexy! Teddy Quinlivan walked! SXC!). I then had a long gap so went home again.
I decided to change my outfits once I was back because I got showered in anxious sweats throughout the day which made me feel stinky, even though I probably wasn’t. I chose to take a bag I hadn’t worn before, and it was this silly iridescent spiky purse that was probably originally owned by a 5-year-old goth girl in 1997. It made me feel exactly like that when I sashayed to see the S.S. Daley show (Fun! Stunning knits! People making out!) and then got to hang out with a lovely friend who was over from NYC for the weekend. I finished the day at an after-party at the Standard hotel and it was nice because I was embraced by the lovely PRs which meant I didn’t need to wonder around pretending not to be alone.
DAY 2
The first day hadn’t sent me in a downward spiral (shocking!), so I was feeling a bit more hot and confident. My good friend Robyn Lynch, who I had worked with on her show notes, was also presenting a collection which had me excited. So I went with a floral clutch, which felt just the right amount of silly yet sensible. Shows I got to see were Ahluwalia (Beautiful colours! A-list! Delicious!), Robyn Lynch (Incredible! Incredible knitwear! I am obsessed with her!) and Reuben Selby (Sleek! Great music! In Peckham!), with pints and shots of tequila peppered throughout the day. I was hoping to get home to change for the evening, but ended up doing those tequila shots instead. I did, however, end up dancing in Stoke Newington until 3am.
DAY 3
Usually, by this point, I’m on the verge of quitting whatever I’m doing. Shockingly, I only had a moderate hangover. Plus, I was only going to one show. Maybe it was the alcohol still going through my blood or just me being slightly unhinged, but I decided to consciously break my own rules from last week’s newsletter by wearing two bags at once. As I departed my house in the mid-afternoon to see Stefan Cooke (Incredible neon knitwear! Poetic! Very skinny models!), I strapped on a micro Matty Bovan x Coach fanny pack and wore my matching pink Kiko Kostadinov Swipe bag in hand. It felt completely silly, and I kept touching both bags just to make sure I had lost one of them. I did think it looked cute because they both matched my pink Camperlab boots, but I don’t think I’ll be doing this again.
DAY 4
I was supposed to be working all day, but I nipped out during lunchtime for the Supriya Lele show (Naked! Fun outerwear! Paloma Elsesser walked!). I had heard through the grapevine that one Posh Spice would be at the show so I decided to wear lots of colours in order to attract her attention from the second row. Sadly, it didn’t work and she didn’t ask me to become her daughter’s personal stylist, but at least I got a cute Vogue Runway pic out of it. The bag of choice was my oversized crochet purse by HVML, a really fun sustainable brand I’m currently obsessed with. On my way home, I ended up going to the Co-op, hence the bananas.
DAY 5
Had to wake up stupidly early to make my way to the Bethany Williams (Stunning innovative textiles including cactus leather! Fun bags! Always a beautiful message!) presentation before work. It was all the way in Weeeest London which meant I had to be ready for a trek – hence, the first cross-body bag of the week. My cute-yet-loud MCM bag with chain detailing felt like the perfect West London tool that would make me appear posher than I am. I assume my dirty Converse disclosed the truth. xxx
*PEEK OF THE WEEK*
This time, I asked to peek inside a bag of someone whose permanently smiley face was a true light in the tunnel of London Fashion Week. Miss Jason (@itsmissjason) is one of the most charming people I’ve ever met, and knows how to use that charm when doing his unique style of video fashion reportage. He’s an absolute darling and always dressed to the nines, so I was very much intrigued as to what’s inside Miss Jason’s fashion week sack, a very chic Published By mirrored bag.
What does the inside of your bag say about you?
Miss Jason: “It’s been a very busy but wholesome LFW, so my bag is literally packed with a first-aid kit of essentials that virtually say ‘optimistic but also just trying to keep It together’. I’ve got my MCM Eau de Parfum because smelling like confidence helps confidence, my Gentle Monster shade blockers, Glossier dew effect highlighter & Lancôme Ultra wear blush so when I look like a corpse and have a show at 10am I can put some easy & quick colour in my face. I’ve also got my De Mamiel Altitude oil because it soothes my frantically overstimulated brain, Lelo condoms which are self explanatory, and my super cute Kinder Bueno tortoise toy – a great conversational piece IMO!”