 The fabulous Miss Blackwell descends upon Stockholm Fashion Week. Will it be Amazing Grace or Ugly Betty?
Tuesday 1 July The sun is shining and the breeze is gentle and warm. A perfect morning. Ed and I sprang to life and made ourselves beautiful which takes quite a long time ("does this shirt suit me?" "is this makeup okay?" "can I get away with horizontal stripes still?" "does my bum look big in this?" All terribly important). As there was a tube strike we walked down to Hallwylska and I changed into some extreme heels close by so I could totter the rest of the way. Hallwylska is a lovely old building which used to be a family home till they moved out and now it's a museum. The first show of the day by Hope was being held here in the entrance courtyard and was terribly elegant and pretty. There was a canopy to protect us from the sun (by now it was baking) and we were given chilly champagne and a lunch (but I'm now officially on a diet so I only drink - I'm British and thus am hardwired to accept all and any alcohol). The courtyard filled up and looking around, I see Raybans (the black ones) are creeping back in. I may dig mine up from about a thousand years ago. A number of ladies were wearing those Gladiator shoes. Frankly, I don't get them and anyone wearing them deserves to be thrown to the lions. An accessory I believe should be storming our streets but is barely on the radar is the fan so it was gratifying to see several ladies fluttering away, me included with my very cute fan from Pacha. And then the show started. I can't say much really. It was an elegant, sophisticated offering but terribly safe. The clothes were black, beige and some white thrown in. Overall they are clothes you can happily wear to the office with pride ("Look at me, I'm the cutest secretary in the office today!"). One thing I did love were the shoes. Hopefully our lovely photographer, little Simon, managed to get a couple of pics to show you. There was also a black and white African print shirt dress that was nice and the print was also used on some skinny trousers (note, only ever wear skinny trousers if your legs are like sticks or you look poor). That done, we tottered (I tottered, the Ed strolled and smoked) to Berns where we ate fruit the in Campari lounge. The next show was Tiger and I found out that they started in 1903 so I was very impressed that they used that name then - how very funky. The show was another very nice and safe affair with black (yawn), greys, creams and white, short shorts (thank heavens these models have good legs or I would lose my sight from a celluligte blitz), bomber jackets in various fabrics including silver (quite cute actually!), a peach off the shoulder Baby Jane dress, belted rain coats, some of those what I call Terrorist Scarves but in silk - you know the ones. A couple of the models were sporting an Agnes Deyne crop which is a cute jaunty look but only wear it if you're extremely pretty or you'll look like a lesbian and heaven only knows what sort of trouble you'll get into. We had quite a while to wait for the next show so I nipped upstairs to the Press Room to write and eat mints (part of the diet) before zipping downstairs for the Nikolaj d'Etoile show. There's nothing I love so much as recognition. When you go to these shows, you queue for about half an hour before being allowed in by the door girls (and believe me, if your name's not on the list, there is no way in the sweet lord's earth you're coming in) and then a quick totter to the seating girls who have the innate ability to either crush you or make you feel like the most loved pooch in Crufts (it's an English dog show). So there I am at Nikolaj d'Etoile show, I'm in and I'm asking for a seat and I get the "YES!" The crowds part like Moses' miricle as I'm escorted to a fabulous seat "Do you need to take pictures? Is this okay for you?" and so on. I gratefully sink into my seat feeling like royalty. I didn't really know much about this outfit apart from apparently they haven't been going long so I had no idea what to expect. It turns out it's mens wear and I just loved, loved, loved this show. The first guy came out in dark red satin trousers which were thrilling, chaps wore beautiful necklaces and ankle bangles, shoes were not worn, a cravat made an appearence as did a pocket handkerchief, there was a tremendous pair of rock and roll pale gold trousers and quite a lot of trousers were just above the ankle. A beautiful black man came out in a tailored white suit with a white shirt and white tie and he pulled it off. I was a bit dazzled by the end of this show. It was stylish and elegant and still very wearable and I left remembering why I flew all the way here. After this the entire crowd scooted downstairs for the Fifth Avenue Shoe Repair show. And of course, we had to do the obligatory half hour wait. And there I stood minding my own business, taking in everything that's going on around me, looking at the people and just loving the atmosphere when I notice a cute chap in front with some other guys. And he's staring at me. Instant flipping dilemma - what in the name of Bambi am I meant to do? Every time I look over, he's chatting away and glancing at me. I'm truly dreadful at this sort of thing and so what did I do? I did absolutely nothing. In fact, I probably looked a bit snooty. If anyone has a handy hint, please let me know, it would very much be appreciated (and no, taking my clothes off is not an option). Finally we went in, found our places and the show started. Cute guy was whisked into the VIP area with his chums so he was probably my dream man and now he's gone forever. Sometimes I really am worse than useless! If you were going plan a war, do not use me in the strategy or planning stage. Probably the canon fodder stage. You are never going to get a conventional show with Fifth Avenue and we certainly weren't disappointed. Fifth Avenue excel at theatre and throw clothes down the runway that are amazing sculptures and Alice in Wonderlandesque and we're catapulted to the wonderful land of Fifth Avenue Shoe Repair. Huge bows adorned collars and necks, hair was plaited in extravagant whirls around the head, a huge broach of copper was worn on a dinner suit and then found it's way wrapped around a model as a dress, fabric was ruched and gathered around necks, cowl necks looped over men, sexy hot pants were paraded and a pretty white puff ball with a see through sleeveless white top arrived. I had to top writing, there was too much and I didn't want to miss one second. Again, lets hope the wonderful Simon has captured it all. The Ed and I nipped into the Campari Lounge and, surprise surprise, had a Campari (and very nice it was too) before going to Urban Outfitters for the Nike Dear Nike photography exhibition and then onto Riche for the Id Sjöstedt exhibition and drinks. At both we met lovely people and it was great to chat to them all. Then back off to Berns for the Mercedez-Benz party. Now this is important. Mercedez-Benz decided to create and sponsor the Young Fashion Industry Award. And why is this important? It shows that the fashion industry in Sweden has gained a real credibility and, in my mind, it's a privilege to have have such a recognised Anyway, a couple of cars were unveiled but car-land is not my thing so I won't bang on about it apart from they looked like nice cars. When that was done, the crowd stormed back to the runway to see the Award Show - the place was packed to the rafters. Four designers had been shortlisted and each showed three pieces of their work. They were all quite diverse and very professional and the winner was Nhu Duong with her safety pin clothes (very Liz Hurley). And then there was the stampede for the bar and everyone drank lots of wine, had make overs, chatted with the very nice Merc men and a great time was had by all and we all lived happily ever after. Until the morning.
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