First four snaps : phone : INVITE/ RUNWAY GHOSTS / FAVOURITE GHOST.
Last six snaps : STOLEN FROM STYLE.COM
So believe it or not this was my first experience sitting besides the runway, I'm usually behind the scenes with bleeding fingertip from pricks of pins. It was a total nightmare to reach Somerset House, as you'd expect from London transport on a Sunday but having missed the Bryce show for the second season running the night before I wasn't about to miss Osmans'. Lamb & I were naturally complete tourists when it came to finding the right floor but eventually made it after vast amount of confusion greeted by blaggers who were, well, no more than blaggers.
Upon entry lay a velveteen flooring sprinkled with splashes of electric blue, strictly guarded by hideous amounts of interns wearing hideous amounts of white PVC. We were shoved to our seats, school-like P.E benches and there from the pushing and shoving began. Though late, I'm highly greatful to the time we did make it to as the demands for seats began resulting in the picking off and being sent to the back to watch like a misbehaved pupil.
All was soon forgotten as the lights dimmed and the show began. Show your bones and outcome the skeletons, I don't know if I was jealous or horrified, I defintely hadn't seen an assembly of girls so skinny, maybe I am niave, maybe I am infact jealous. Dressed like a dream all 36 garments graced the catwalk, my clear favourite being the black fur sleeved dress, higher the hem and I would be sold and currently is very similar to a creation I am working on for an upcoming collection, so I felt quite obliged to be a fan. The burn-out lace was highy inspirational as were the dotted number of cap sleeves, which always get my heart skipping a quick beat. The show flew by but stayed stuck in my mind. I'm glad my first experience was an Osman show, the drama and the passion stayed clear throughout and without myself, sounding like a tired school girl, I bid farewell.
HH.
