we'll always have paris

It's weird for me to think that a lot of the people that I met at London Fashion Week are, as we speak, in the midst of it in Paris. I honestly don't know how they do it.

Okay, the Carine story: at the Mark Fast show (see previous post), I had cleared it with his people to shoot from the aisle between the front row (my favourite spot: I always like sitting on the floor, at home, wherever, so it's normal for me). This time there were these printed names on the seats next to me and the two nearest the aisle were free. One said CARINE ROITFELD and people kept trying to sit on it so the girl @ Mark Fast was spending the whole time saying, no, that seat's saved. Finally I started doing it for her so she could do HER job. I literally had my hand on the seat to block people from sitting there, and even then.. it was getting ridiculous. Can't people read??

The show was really late in starting.. I mean, REALLY late.. turns out they were holding it for Carine, and there was all this talk about 'no, she's on her way, the car's on its way..' Across the aisle, I saw her daughter, Julia, who I had met two days earlier @ the Unique show (third from right), but no sign of Mum. I read later she was at the Alexander McQueen memorial and they were rushing her over from there.

Just as the show was about to start, they must have whisked her in because I could see, just as it started, she was opposite me, front row at the very front (see last shot, far left). So, having done my job keeping everyone away from her seat, I found myself sitting front row, IN CARINE'S SEAT.



Okay so after the show, I was talking to various friends, taking photos, blah blah blah, and suddenly found myself with people snapping none other than the style icon herself. It's funny, I thought I was so over leopard last winter but I'm loving it now especially as a print: can you see? This isn't faux fur, it's woven fabric. I just love it.



And then there was my new friend Julia: in all black, but classic court shoes in a leopard print. I wonder if they planned it: got on the phone that morning and said 'let's be all matchy matchy mother daughter' or if it just happened. Anyway I told Julia I had some nice shots of her from Unique and we were trying to figure how I'd get them to her. I was going to say 'I'll just call your mom's office and email them to her PA' but instead - sometimes, in hindsight, I amaze even myself with the lame things I say - I asked her:

'Are you on Twitter?'

So she starts telling me this whole story about how she used to be, but not any more, there's a fake twitter account but it's not her, and meanwhile - you know what it's like - Mom's already in the big black car with the driver and the dark glass, and they're waiting for Julia because I'm holding up the works. So I finally asked 'Are you on facebook?' and she smiled and said yes, friend me! And off she whisked, like Cinderella, in a big black shiny chauffeur driven pumpkin.



It wasn't later til I realised: hang on, I'm only a civilian.. you can't just go around friending public figures, otherwise everyone would do it. They have their own top secret Celebrity Facebook that we can't access. So Julia, if you're reading this, I'll just have to wait til you friend me. Either that, or I'll have to contact your mother's office, after all.

AFTER Paris Fashion Week is over, of course.

I see today's Dior, Roland Mouret, Vivienne Westwood.. my brother's favourite from years ago, Yohji Yamamoto.. Issey Miyake, Lanvin.. if you could go to one Paris show today, which would it be?

Frankly, I'm happy on this rainy day to stay home with the cat and a cup of P.G. Tips, and upload photos from a photo shoot I did yesterday for a really cool initiative that Topshop is doing. Coming soon to a theatre near you.