Goodbye London, Hello Paris

Who can believe that this time last week I was running about at the shows? That Stephen Jones’s exhibition hadn’t opened, and that London Fashion Week was barely underway?
 
The fashion circus has already jetted over to Milan and the cycle continues.  I am in London and avoid Milan.  Milan is a city that seems to wipe my sense of direction and have an invisible hierarchy that I am not part of with cabs.  It’s fair to say Milan has a poltergeist effect on my normally fraught life – so I avoid it unless completely necessary.
 
Shame.  I covet Jil Sander.  Love the crush and the bling that is involved getting into a Dolce & Gabbana or a Gucci.  The last time I was there, I hijacked a bus and hit the driver on the head with my Prada ticket as I so desperately needed to get to that show.  As I said, it’s a city that brings out the worst in me.
 
I have already done a day trip to Paris and I can’t wait for the pack to descend.  The lost week when the ateliers are whirling and the designers are in the midst of their fittings is my favourite part of the process.  It’s like magic. It’s just as I imagine Cinderella’s dress was created.  How can you not be hooked on the Happily Ever After? See you in Paris…