It’s the quiet before the storm, though with a sense of noted irony I can hear Storm Ciara beating against my windows.
As it howls and savages the South London landscape with its ever decreasing rage, giving the nod that it’s heading towards calmed impotence, I’m pretty sure that’s similar to some occasional reviews of my writing though.
But what is Fashion Week like, a question I’m often asked, well I think that most peoples idea that its all receptions, cocktails and glam is a tad misguided, the reality is much starker for us jobbing professionals.
The most abundant thing is the walking, at least 20,000 steps a day, though usually closer to 25,000. We see a show we walk to the next, and so it goes from the first show at 9am to the last at 9pm. Everything is done on the move, social media, article notes, discussions of future projects, there isn’t a huge amount of sitting, when I first started out without a BFC pass and standing only invites I’d be wrecked after a couple of days.
It sounds weird to say the physical tiredness is outweighed by the mental fatigue, the constant bombardment of creativity from others, the deploying of my own creative talents and the fact that despite many peoples best attempts to make it a social event, this is still a trade event that sprawls across the capital, so there are meetings, the networking, the setting up of new projects, the discussion of ventures coming to an end, a lot of work is done in these five days that will carry me through until the next fashion week.
But would I swap it, never, I get to do the thing I love, with some of my best friends, even in the cold that feels amazing, as the old saying goes, if you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life.