Sometimes I wonder where I've been all my life. I mean: last Saturday we went to the Dover Street Market for the first time. I've seen that name everywhere and assumed it was another street market, like Camden or Spitalfields or Portobello Road. So often, someone would wear something great in a magazine or something, and it was from Dover Street Market. More recently, through bloggers I've realised it's actually a shop.
Only it's not just shop, as I discovered. It's a whole building, a world, a unique experience. There's a little tin hut on one level, another is like a potting shed. Feeling and holding real Christopher Kane velvet ribbon dresses in my hands... and Azzedine Alaia.. Comme des Garcons.. it's a movable feast of fashion as art. And the customers are the most style savvy folk I've seen in one place, outside of London Fashion Week.
The staff are so stylish, as in, not slaves to fashion, but with their own, unique style, their inner niceness just glowing forth. You know what I mean. Take Charlie, for example. He was such a star about helping me, that just had to take him outside and shoot him. I didn't ask where he got anything because I didn't want to keep him out too long, didn't want him to get in trouble. Hopefully I'll get permission to shoot inside, but for now, you'll just have to take my word for it.
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