I have always been a big advocator of what goes on behind the scenes, on the streets, and off the runway. It's not that I don't appreciate the goings on, on the catwalk, because I do, I really do. But there is just some magic about the street side aspects of fashion week, isn't that where it all really comes to life? London has not failed to disappoint so far and so I sit and observe in awe, the floods of images that flash up on my screen daily.
We have our street chic Alexa Chung in what looks to be a Burberry trench and LBD, we have the ubiquitous Agnes Deyne in a monochrome vest dress, we have platforms a plenty (mostly of the Acne kind), we have the Model, street side with a menthol in one hand and a lookbook in the other, we have the fashionistas with no name clutching the one designer piece they own and are hoping will be their ticket into the after parties, we have the pretentious posers who we outwardly hate but secretly love and lastly we have ourselves a little Peaches Geldoff because what would be London Fashion Week if she or her lesser known sibling, weren't at the forefront of our minds?
