I have Russians sitting next to me and behind me – in the front row. Proof that the Russians have come, if there ever was one. So naturally I get speaking to the fashion editor of Russian Elle, who gives me a sceptical once over as if to say “what the fuck are you wearing?!” and she would be right – my jeans are at the moment covered with oil from my bike – but changes her tune when she finds out who I am!
Ach well, so I wasn’t making as much effort as another front rower – she of the big pink ridiculous hat (see below). I guess she feels there is a gap to fill but we won’t mention that.
The show opened with the kind of searing industrial rock that fashion designers always feel they have to use to be edgy – I think I have developed tinitus, and you know what – this kind of soundtrack ain’t helping.
The first outfit was a mad-maxesque cascade of fur, so we’ll skip that. From then on it was all ripped flesh lace and corsetry and mini bustles with long trains and ostrich feathers.
Stand outs for me were the amazing feather pieces that rose like fountains from the shoulder, and the pearly queen “beautiful agony” cropped jacket – I could have done without the bone, crucifix and severed baby head adornments.
Reem is edgy, I’ve got it……point taken. Now please turn the sodding music down.
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