Every season, the sartorially minded masses descend on London Fashion Week. But what does it take to get ‘papped’ like the style elite? AMY GRIER went to great lengths to find out
A couple to my right are pretending they have just met. I have been watching them stage this ‘Oh hi!’ kiss for around seven minutes. He wears black chaps, cowboy boots, a fringed jacket and what must be the world’s hottest trousers (black leather, as narrow as a garden hosepipe). She is resplendent in a fascinator, a sparkly rainbow-hued twinset and a pleated skirt that catches the light with every gesture of faux surprise.
Each time they embrace, flashbulbs go off, as nine or so paparazzi capture this moment of disingenuous emotion that will later, when the pictures appear on blogs and news sites, no doubt look like a candid capturing of two old friends.
I am at London Fashion Week (LFW to those in the business) – the cavalcade of shows and parties that descend on the capital twice a year. The multi-day event sees journalists, models, photographers and a lot of B-list celebrities running between its three main central-London locations.
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