Right, so I think I may be on the way to recovering from the incredible failure that was my LFW menswear day. Thought it would be thoroughly sensible to go out the night before my painfully early flight, drink, get no sleep and then trek to London. Sage decision, as per.
Arrived in Central about half an hour late for J.W. Anderson so that was a no-go and then proceeded to get rained on for the remainder of the day, whilst trying to combat my partial deafness (combination of common cold and flight congestion) with crap Boots sinus relief pills. Mustered the energy to make it to MAN at the Royal Opera House which, despite being one of the hottest tickets going, wasn’t all too impressive, and then decided to take a trip ’round the NEWGEN Men installations which were beautifully laid out this year and chock-full of labels I’m eager to learn more about.
And, er, that was it. I had to then retreat to the comfort of the sista’s Manor House abode. SO, not my most productive season but, you know, shit happens.
Speaking of, I managed to look very attractive (note the sarcasm please), coughing and spluttering in my sodden jumper next to none other than Yvan Rodic A.K.A. The Facehunter. I know, I know, how do I manage to do it all so well?!
Also spotted Charlie Porter and Gordon Richardson at the table beside myself and Mark when we paused for coffee in that cute café at Somerset House.
Not gonna lie, tapas, wine and beer in a place near Green Lanes was the undoubted highlight of the day. Sorry, fashion, I failed you.