You could tell that there was a distinctive lack of Americans at London Fashion Week this season. Unlike last September, when la Wintour and her crew sat expressionless in their front row seats, this time round, those same seats (which, incidentally, were a lot easier to get hold of than usual) were taken up by a less "groomed" bunch.
"Is that really the editor of a Very Important Fashion magazine?" asked a novice friend who I managed to sneak into one of my four shows of the day, pointing to a lady in the front row who could have easily been mistaken for a cleaner - even if she was all red soles and cashmere.
Even though the level of excitement is a bit on the tepid side this season, there are some brilliant clothes being shown. Christopher Kane continues to go from strength to strength, as do the Aquascutum boys. I also liked Nathan Jenden and Todd Lynn, who I'd like to see more of. As I write this, another day of shows is coming to an end, but my workload - made even bigger than usual by the fact that I am away from the office for all next week - did not allow me to see any of them. It's not such a big deal these days of logging onto style.com to see it all from the comfort of home. Still, it's nothing like the buzz that precedes a show.
Any excitement lacking on the fashion front was to be found at Sadler's Wells, which was jam-packed for the Tanstheater Wuppertal's performance of Café Muller and The Rite of Spring, two pieces choreographed by the company's founder, Pina Bausch. Even though we were all disappointed by the fact that Saint Pina - as she is known by her fans (the Pinaholics) - was not able to perform (I've waited about 20 years to see this!), it was still a night of standing ovations. This is full-on, hardcore modern dance, no sissy ballet. Even the interval, during which the stage was covered in soil for the sensation Stravinsky piece was electrifying - and that was just the stagehands at work, in preparation for what has got to be the muckiest, thanks to a mixture of sweat and soil, and most visceral pieces of dance ever created.
Still, none of this is anywhere close to my excitement at the prospect of being on holiday next week. If I had any, my bags would already be packed. Unfortunately, my one and only suitcase burst on my return from Barcelona this summer, so I have to go out and get one on the weekend before flying. And it looks like it's going to have to be quite a big one - among the things I've been asked to bring down for friends this time are: a car glove compartment, a ski suit, a couple of wallpaper rollers and some sheets.
Anyone thinking of anything else will have to wait till the next time. Which is only a couple of weeks away thanks to the general election.
"Is that really the editor of a Very Important Fashion magazine?" asked a novice friend who I managed to sneak into one of my four shows of the day, pointing to a lady in the front row who could have easily been mistaken for a cleaner - even if she was all red soles and cashmere.
Even though the level of excitement is a bit on the tepid side this season, there are some brilliant clothes being shown. Christopher Kane continues to go from strength to strength, as do the Aquascutum boys. I also liked Nathan Jenden and Todd Lynn, who I'd like to see more of. As I write this, another day of shows is coming to an end, but my workload - made even bigger than usual by the fact that I am away from the office for all next week - did not allow me to see any of them. It's not such a big deal these days of logging onto style.com to see it all from the comfort of home. Still, it's nothing like the buzz that precedes a show.
Any excitement lacking on the fashion front was to be found at Sadler's Wells, which was jam-packed for the Tanstheater Wuppertal's performance of Café Muller and The Rite of Spring, two pieces choreographed by the company's founder, Pina Bausch. Even though we were all disappointed by the fact that Saint Pina - as she is known by her fans (the Pinaholics) - was not able to perform (I've waited about 20 years to see this!), it was still a night of standing ovations. This is full-on, hardcore modern dance, no sissy ballet. Even the interval, during which the stage was covered in soil for the sensation Stravinsky piece was electrifying - and that was just the stagehands at work, in preparation for what has got to be the muckiest, thanks to a mixture of sweat and soil, and most visceral pieces of dance ever created.
Still, none of this is anywhere close to my excitement at the prospect of being on holiday next week. If I had any, my bags would already be packed. Unfortunately, my one and only suitcase burst on my return from Barcelona this summer, so I have to go out and get one on the weekend before flying. And it looks like it's going to have to be quite a big one - among the things I've been asked to bring down for friends this time are: a car glove compartment, a ski suit, a couple of wallpaper rollers and some sheets.
Anyone thinking of anything else will have to wait till the next time. Which is only a couple of weeks away thanks to the general election.