Remember the scene in Dumbo when our elephantine hero is getting jostled, judged and jived by a gaggle of too-cool-for-school crows? Well, that my friends, is London Fashion Week. For one week of every year, London is swooped upon by a gaggle of fashion’s finest crows. Everywhere you look there is what Dylan Thomas would no doubt have called a “sloeblack, slow, black, crow black, front row black nodding sea”.
The reason for this pitchy invasion is two-fold. Firstly, fashion loves black. This year, designers from Christopher Kane and Antonion Berardi to Mark Fast and Betty Jackson have all flocked to black like bats at dawn. Whether it’s knitted, leather or feathered, the people behind the cutting patterns have chosen their hue and they’re sticking to it.
Secondly, fashion journalists love black. In black you can be inconspicuous whilst still being on trend. You can be demure and de rigueur. You can run through puddles and trek across muddy pavements. And most of all, in black, you can take the tube from show to show and it still won’t show on your clothes.
Which is why I am going to work tomorrow dressed as as Darth Moor. Well, if you can’t beat ‘em, maul ‘em.
Nell Frizzell
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