London fashion week this year was unusual. For those of you that work in soho, I think you’d have another word entirely to describe the move of the fashion tribe into the area. I imagine it’s not a very nice word.
London Fashion Week, of course, moved from the beautiful and elegant Somerset House to the rather gritty and slightly over-sexualised Soho. Yes, that is an accurate description from someone who was trying desperately to find spaces to film that didn’t have sex shops in the background. Not very on brand if you know what I mean. But then again, Soho has its charm. It’s a “real” look at London and a place I spent nearly a decade partying like there was no end in sight to my twenties. This is the place to go out, meet up and have a blast of a night. It is not, however, anywhere I would have suggested as a place for fashion week.
While many of us thought the week was crazy enough at Somerset house, crazy town hit new heights on Brewer street where near on hourly I feared for men and women’s lives as they darted out into traffic to be shot by a street style photographer, or at least try to attract one. By day five, I was exhausted- as is usually the case when you are spending 14+ hours a day running around to shows and working on various partnerships. Hey, first world problems right?
So what’s a girl to do? Well, when your best friend also works in the industry, you make a plan of recovery. We had one day before I was flying off to Milan Fashion Week and she (she being Mademoiselle Robot) was starting a new project. It was our first day off in as long as I can remember. It’s been a busy time, what can I say?
We made a decision to indulge and when such a decision is made a consensus must be reached on where such an activity would take place. Enter The Dorchester. Now it must be said that the two of us have been known to just stop by for coffee at The Dorchester. And I’ve never really understood why more people don’t do this. Costs the same as Starbucks, yet you have the beautiful atmosphere of fragrant floral arrangements, luxury loungers and supremely friendly staff. As we are “regulars”- because we like to pretend we are really important people occasionally- we decided to make The Dorchester our recovery room for the day.
Breakfast was planned in The Grill at the Dorchester. And you can imagine the carb fest that took place. Waffles were had. Oh wait, I do that pre fashion week as well. Whoops. I’m so not fashion crowd worthy. But waffles at The Grill are a treat- a perfectly sweet sensation.
After “waffling” about, the real mind, body and spirit recovery started. We made our way down to the spa for a few hours of treatment and talking. Our gossip sessions are truly just as therapeutic as any proper mental assistant I’ve ever seen offered. The treatment was one I needed to help combat the frown and worry lines accumulated over LFW. A few designers had me seriously digging in with the confused wrinkles mid forehead as well. Let’s just say there were a few rather interesting moments this season. So a Valmont facial sorted me right out in helping to rehydrate and reenergise some rather grey looking skin. If you guys haven’t tried these products (not to mention the custom facial at The Dorchester), you are truly missing out. I’m pretty much obsessed with the results and the scent is damn near heavenly. Is it wrong I wanted to sniff my own face for the rest of the day? Apologies to those around me on the tube wondering why I was taking so many deep breaths on the way home. Not a mental case- was just having a public love affair with my face cream.
Post facial, MR and I were having a good goss in the relaxation room when we were so rudely interrupted by the business of blogging. Yup- work calls. We had plans of spending hours alternating between green tea and champagne sips. Then there were the plans to take advantage of the sauna and the delicious candy like creation that is the manicure room. Or maybe a blow out in the Carol Joy salon (more on that later). Alas, our work life had other plans.
However, I’d say four hours of LFW recovery in one of London’s most celebrated luxury hotels did go a long way in allowing us to see sense again. We are such crazy cows aren’t we?