| Fashion

My Girl Likes to Party All the Time, Party All the Time, Party All the Tiiiime…

So like I said… so much has been going on that I’m having to split it into manageable bitesize posts… and while the press days went extremely well, (I seem to be getting just a teeny tad good at my job of late – if I do say so myself) and I found and brought to the table a super cute brand, had an excellent meeting with them and it’s looking like it might be going ahead (last comment reiterated) I thought what you would really be interested in hearing about was the after office hours gossip… the parties! Well I can tell you that I’m knackered already and the week hasn’t even begun…

But before I regail tales of free drinks and celeb spots, and you write me off as just another annoyingly smug fashionista type who calls it work to hang out at hip places and drink every night… please let me stress that I am by no means at home in these situations – I have shamefully blagged my way into every one, am most definitely not cool enough to be there, usually stick out like a sore thumb, ALWAYS embarass myself somehow and if I’m being perfectly honest would much rather spend my evening at home with a cup of tea watching Glee… You can take the Bumpkin out of the country… but you can’t take the…you get the drift…
Anyway I have slowly learnt that the only way to survive a fashion party is to completely suspend reality for the duration of the stay, as for me – a fashion party is not reality – it is an alien world full of a breed of 6ft tall, flawless beauties who’s only mission is to seek and destroy… seek out the average regular joes of earth and destroy any notion we had that we may have looked O.K that night by simply towering above us with legs that reach our armpits and ‘because I’m worth it’ style hair flicks!
Thursday nights debaucle – a swish magazine launch at a posh boutique in the heart of Chelsea – was the perfect example of such an affair… full of those people that you take one look at and feel outraged at the injustice of the world… suddenly my outfit seemed all wrong, my make up too garish and my accent too common. Under normal circumstances faced with this I would feel completely intimidated, but ever since I rocked up to a Firetrap party recently with jeans, trainers, no make up and a Woolrich Parka on and still managed to have fun, I have come over with a renewed ‘don’t give a hoot’ attitude. Besides it’s amazing what downing three Raspberry Martinis in the space of 10 minutes can do for your confidence… Soon I had tracked down a whole 2 people that I knew, clocked, made a beeline for and flirted outrageously with a hot male model until his equally hot model girlfriend interrupted proceedings and sent me packing with a death stare and an eyelash flutter – whatever love, I was only talking to him because I wanted to know where he got his shoes from! and tried my very hardest to edge my way into more than one paparazzi shot until the photographer actually had to ask me to step aside… all this and it hadn’t even hit 9pm yet! Here’s the pics…

The good thing about these parties is that when you turn up at work the next day hungover – you are guilt free! Fashion week is the one time where partying and a constant hangover is dismissed as part of the job and your boss actually encourages you to go out, get drunk and accidentally spill a drink over some top fashion editor so that you simply must give her your business card and take her out for a coffee very soon to apologise… Also as much as I hate to admit it, it can be rather satisfying to do the whole ‘I’m on the list’ thing when some jumped up little wannabe on the door looks at you as if to say ‘You are so not coming in here’

This was the case on Friday night when a couple of my friends and I hit the Random Magazine Party, which as it turned out was as exciting as a deflated balloon, after our names had already been ticked off the goddamm list we were still being expected to pay a whole 5 english pounds for the priveledge of entering! My face must have said it all as the door girl very quickly flounced around with her clipboard and mumbled ‘are you press or media?’ oooh the satisfaction to be able to say ‘Actually… yes I am’ even though technically I’m not but she isn’t to know that is she? I was armed with my new business cards and was perfectly prepared to launch one at her if the need should arise…

As it was, I was sincerely glad that we did not pay a single penny because there wasn’t even free booze, only free vitamin water which let’s face it is about as useful at a Friday night fashion party as steak and ale pie would be at a vegetarian party… still, the 5pounds I didn’t spend on getting in, bought me a greasy chinese on the way home… good times!

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