If any of you have subjected yourselves to following me on twitter (which you can do here), you may have noticed that around 2 weeks ago I live tweeted from one of the shows at the renowned Bristol Fashion Week. Sadly, it was far from my kind of thang, the styled outfits were pretty dreary, there was a theme of male domination and patriarchy throughout the whole show which totally deified Robin Thicke (gag!!) and the event was infested with pretentious children who thought it was a lot more glam than it really was.
Now, that could just be my own Bristol prejudices seeping out, but I can't say that it's the only reason why I found BFW to be some sort of joke because I genuinely love my city. Bristol is amazing and having spent all my teen years living in the middle of it I've been exposed to many of it's great qualities, however, being a fashion capital is not one of them. That's not to say that there aren't many great designers and well dressed people in Bristol. I truly believe that if it were organised correctly Bristol could have a fascinating fashion week showcasing all these wonderful things, but it isn't and all we see at BFW is snippets from M&S's latest A/W range.
During the catwalk, I could feel myself having a bit of a crisis, an internal battle of sorts, the devoted Bristol-bred gal side of me was amazed by the fact that the city which Vicky Pollard had originated from had given birth to an almost professional fashion show and wanted to support my hometown of sorts, whilst the London-born I'm-above-everybody-here woman found the show painful to watch and had to supress her laughs. Ultimately, the south west sweetheart was crushed by the career driven diva, hence this post.
I believe that this bout of intense pride was absolutely influenced by the moronic presenters who were supposedly in the fashion loop, but really seemed like a chuckle brother tribute. Any dignity that the show had was completely demolished by their unwitty banter and unnecessary comments about the models, in particular one beautiful model who apparently had poor memory as they kept reminding her that she was BEAUTIFUL and SIZE 16. My friend Alice who accompanied me to this occasion made a hilarious remark about the bald hairdressing superstar and how we should always take advice from them.
The final things that annoyed me about this whole shebang were a) the two annoying model children who looked smug rather than cute b) the fact that I felt bad about not enjoying myself because I got in for free. Now, the comment about the children probably seems like one step too far, but honestly, if you saw their faces, annoying poses and stupid dance moves, you'd feel the same. In their defence I could have misinterpreted gas for smugness. Nevertheless, I can't thank BFW and Claire Hodson for hooking me up with a chance to experience an almost serious fashion show in my favourite city in the south west, it just didn't work out for us I guess. B.x
Now, that could just be my own Bristol prejudices seeping out, but I can't say that it's the only reason why I found BFW to be some sort of joke because I genuinely love my city. Bristol is amazing and having spent all my teen years living in the middle of it I've been exposed to many of it's great qualities, however, being a fashion capital is not one of them. That's not to say that there aren't many great designers and well dressed people in Bristol. I truly believe that if it were organised correctly Bristol could have a fascinating fashion week showcasing all these wonderful things, but it isn't and all we see at BFW is snippets from M&S's latest A/W range.
During the catwalk, I could feel myself having a bit of a crisis, an internal battle of sorts, the devoted Bristol-bred gal side of me was amazed by the fact that the city which Vicky Pollard had originated from had given birth to an almost professional fashion show and wanted to support my hometown of sorts, whilst the London-born I'm-above-everybody-here woman found the show painful to watch and had to supress her laughs. Ultimately, the south west sweetheart was crushed by the career driven diva, hence this post.
I believe that this bout of intense pride was absolutely influenced by the moronic presenters who were supposedly in the fashion loop, but really seemed like a chuckle brother tribute. Any dignity that the show had was completely demolished by their unwitty banter and unnecessary comments about the models, in particular one beautiful model who apparently had poor memory as they kept reminding her that she was BEAUTIFUL and SIZE 16. My friend Alice who accompanied me to this occasion made a hilarious remark about the bald hairdressing superstar and how we should always take advice from them.
The final things that annoyed me about this whole shebang were a) the two annoying model children who looked smug rather than cute b) the fact that I felt bad about not enjoying myself because I got in for free. Now, the comment about the children probably seems like one step too far, but honestly, if you saw their faces, annoying poses and stupid dance moves, you'd feel the same. In their defence I could have misinterpreted gas for smugness. Nevertheless, I can't thank BFW and Claire Hodson for hooking me up with a chance to experience an almost serious fashion show in my favourite city in the south west, it just didn't work out for us I guess. B.x
