your beating heart

So: fashion week is over, in London at least. I'm not chasing the circus to Paris or Milan, but I've gotta say: I LOVED it this year. Flew in from Miami on Day Two, slept thru that, and waltzed in on Day Three with my amazing, Amazonian friend Jessi Lindstrom (top shot), California blonde Homecoming Queen, mother of Jasper, wife of Thorsten, lived in Paris, now in London. What I love about her - and there's so much to choose from - is the REASON she was Homecoming Queen. Not because she was bitchy or competitive - or even had any desire to be - but for the freak reason that she had this habit, in high school, of noticing if someone was sitting by themselves in the cafeteria, and sitting down and getting to know the people who didn't have a lot of friends.

And they all ended up voting for her. Because she's got such a big heart.

It feels like a metaphor for me. For all my life.

Lots of photos to show you, and I'm actually a bit overwhelmed where to start, so I'll take it a day at a time. Go with Burberry again. And work my way through the colour theme spectrum. And what better place to start than cool, electric, cobalt blue. True Blue.

Oh! And re: yesterday's post, the mystery girl singing Happy Together at the Burberry Show is Misty Miller. But now - before I go out and resume my previous life, which includes adapting my novel to a screenplay, I've got to find out who played live at the end of the show. The song about 'your beating heart'. When you hold me in your arms.

So far, I can't find this song, so if anyone has a clue, please let me know.

That's what I love about Christopher Bailey: the way he, like Jessi, has the generosity of spirit to showcase new talent. But it's not just him, the Chief Creative Director at Burberry. It's Angela Ahrendts, the American businesswoman who took the helm of Burberry as CEO in 2006. I've not had the privilege of meeting her - yet. Or Mr. Bailey. But I feel what they've done with the brand is incredible. Not a trace of the iconic plaid in this show. This was a more sexed up version: 'trench-kissing', Bailey calls it. Great piece in the Telegraph, by Lisa Armstrong.

Yes, there was tan. And trenches. But rarely both. We saw it all tighter, trimmer, Christine Keeler circa early 60s, 'one part sex kitten and two parts Little Miss Prim.' Lots of black, and burgundy, and leopard print pencil skirts. And shine.

And hearts. Lots of heart.