In the thick of winter I am already contemplating on what I am going to wear next season. I guess this is what happens when you work for a magazine where fashion is the most important order of the day and also, working two months in advance kind of screws my sense of time and place. Reporting on fashion is like being on perpetual jet-lag.
I should be pre-occupied with Christmas presents and how to keep myself warm as the beautiful Vivienne Westwood scarf I bought last Sunday is just that – beautiful – previous illusions of it keeping me stylishly warm are in the rubbish bin together with the delicate wrapping it was in. I should be busy putting up a Christmas tree and decorating it with Gucci balls and fairy lights, instead I am going over the spring/summer lines - sticking Post-Its on floral printed skirts, pastel-hued gowns and shirts that are just the right shade of white – not too bleach and not creamy – just white. White will be big next season. You can quote me on that.
Tomorrow I am going to the Bottega Veneta showroom to preview their next season’s bags and ready to wear. I’ve already done Fendi, Dolce and Tod’s. I’ve shot Loewe’s clothes for spring and I’ve scheduled to shoot Vuitton’s rack in the next week. And though I appreciate the merits of next season’s It-bag (go get yourself a Spy bag quick! They will still rule!) and the refreshing greens and yellows of the season to come (thanks to Mr. Costa at Calvin Klein), and while I am ready with my arguments about how unflattering Bermuda shorts are on non-models, HOW CAN I ACTUALLY GET INTO THE SPRING OF THINGS WHEN ALL AROUND ME IS CHINCHILLA AND TIRED, OLD PASHMINAS?
