I've been sitting at my computer screen all day, scrolling through Twitter and getting serious LFW FOMO as I watch pretty much every other blogger in the world get street styled and/or snap pictures from some sort of front row seat.
I've been going to London Fashion Week for years now - sometimes for 'work' (I never like to call blogging that), sometimes for pleasure, and sometimes just to say hello to a few old faces that live across the pond. I've experienced both the glamorous, backstage side of things as well as the side that results in swollen ankles and a lot of lost patience, and - whilst I'm still amazed and thankful for all of the opportunities I've been given through blogging - I no longer feel 'worthy' of stepping foot in Somerset House any more. Not for the time being, at least.
It's no news to anyone that blogging is a pretty vain hobby. I mean, we take pictures of ourselves daily, promote ourselves like it's going out of fashion (lol @ pun) and spend far too much money on things that barely last a season. But that's just what fashion is: materialistic, and I'm guilty as charged.
For the past few years we've all noticed a big shift in the way that the fashion crowds act during Fashion Month - just look back on the Suzie Menkes article from a few years back. Every season, more and more people seem to be registering for press passes (again, guilty) and now the cobbled streets of Somerset House have practically become a runway in themselves, filled with people over-dressing and 'peacocking' just for the sake of a few features on Stockholm Streetstyle or Vogue.com. No worries there at all - I mean a girl (or guy)'s gotta eat - but it's just not something I feel comfortable doing anymore.
I feel like blogging is a really strange direction for me. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely adore it, but I'm definitely not the sort of person that can take selfies in public or pretend to be inspired by every designer out there. In fact, the general journey of how I actually got to this point is a bit of a blur if I'm honest (much like this blog post..woops). I tend to feel more like an outsider at these invite-only events than anything else. The fashion parties are always filled with the most beautiful people that all seem to get on so well, so naturally, and then there's me sitting at the cupcake table scoffing my face with everything and anything covered in some sort of butter cream icing. Sounds terrible..right? I won't lie and say that I don't enjoy it, but last time I checked that wasn't what Fashion Week was all about.
In fact, if I'm honest I'm not overly sure what Fashion Week has ever been about - for me personally, anyway. The only thing that I know is that it no longer seems like the place for me at this moment in time. I can't say this is the end of my wild cake-eating LFW adventures, but this season I'm finding comfort in the fact that I can snuggle up in my PJs with a hot chocolate as opposed to clomping around London in high heels. And just like that, it appears as though I've aged approximately fifty years.
Let me know what you think about the London Fashion Week hype? Did I make the right decision? Or should I hop on a train right this second? Mm, cake.