Yes, that is a .gif of me trying to be Superman with my Elliatt cape. (I think it works … right?) By Friday, my brain had melted into a giant mould of grease, fashion and coffee with me eventually crashing at 9pm. Like a little kid. The last day of Fashion Week is always bittersweet; sad that I will no longer be seeing beautiful pieces of clothing parade down the runway + not going crazy on pub food and seeing my friends in the Media Centre every day and happy that I will finally get to sleep in past 9am (and lounge around in slacks and thongs).
This outfit post is a little bit delayed. (Sorry.) Considering how on top of all my posts I managed to be during the week, I have let you all down right at the very end. I just couldn’t do it. Three shows + two jugs of Pimms + one tub of Messina + three shows on Friday = Sophia passed out in bed. That feeling when you take your heels off at the end of the day. Yeah, that multiplied by 72.
On the bright side, I’ve found myself to be a little bit more productive after Fashion Week – still stuck in that ‘you-have-no-time-time-is-precious’ mind-frame. Beached, dined and caught up on MKR. Boom.