I nearly forgot to tell you all about my London Fashion Week experience that happened last Saturday and saved me from the birthday blues and what ifitis that so somehow manages to catch hold of me each year.
As every girl knows retail therapy is not just to help you get over some dodgy break-up it is an ongoing necessity and fundamental right for women everywhere.
When SG called me to say she has tickets for LFW, my pre-existing plans for that particular day were exd from my memory zone before I could click my fingers and snap my heels.
By lunchtime she hadn't call and my chance to hang out with the beautiful crowd seemed to have evaporated, so I took myself off to my local market in search of fruity hit. Just as my server had finished dropping my apples and oranges into to my trusty old lady shopper, SG called with the meeting point.
Faced with the prospect of binning my fruit, I took evasive fashionista action and headed to the nearest Primarche to find a bag that not only matched my outfit, but also hid my fruit !!
There are some accessories a diva can work at a fashion show, but a shopper full of fruit is not one of them!
When we arrived we were meet by a battery of wild, slightly crazed but gorgeous women, who despite being hemmed in by other equally enthusiastic women, couldn't be prevented from letting out a continuous flurry of whoops, squeals and squawks when finally getting their hands on much coveted purchases.
Before we arrived I asked SG how long the event lasted, included the fashion shows
"Closes at 10" she said, smiling that mischievous smile of hers, which always means she about do something naughty. On this occasion she just smacked her husband's credit card....Hard!
We finally left at 7pm and trust me it was way too early, but truly necessary for moi. After all you can't eat a pair of shoes can you?
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