"How many times have we mumbled "I’m never drinking again" from the depth of our traitorous sleep chariots that have transported from the blissfully happy evening to the innards of hell? More poignantly, how many of us were out on the sauce again the next day? Fashion month hangover isn’t dissimilar to this - for one hot second you truly believe that you’re finished with shows, fashion events, skyscraper heels and the very idea of putting an outfit together. But let’s be honest, that would just be boring... so what will I wear to the Wrangler party?
Some fashion events have an air of awkwardness about them. Bambi-girls attempt to walk on their ten storey Jimmy Choos as if learning to walk for the first time, tirelessly re-applying lippy with each sip of their champagne, relentlessly tweaking their locks, perma puffing out their chests and darting their eyes around the room regardless of who it’s talking to them, desperate to spot an 'any-list' celebrity or hapless paparazzi to ensure an appearance in tomorrow's party pages. Wrangler events are not 'some fashion events', but as they pull in a very beautiful crowd it's imperative that you look good – I learnt this the hard way. I was lucky enough to be invited to their Christmas party, sadly though, as a girl who can’t resist a good party; this was my fourth night out in as many days. Needless to say I looked like three week old road-kill, my spirits were high but my eye make-up wasn’t. Normally you’d unexpectedly bump into the ex when you look dreadful (this was a possibility as he does tend to lurk at these things – more about him later) but this was worse.
Instead I met the best looking man I've ever seen in real life. This cringe worthy mishap considered, outfit planning is essential. I wore a pair of Wrangler black high-waisted jeggings (it would be bad form to pitch up in another brand's jeans) slipped on an All Saints long T-shirt so as to avoid the high-waisted horror of the late 80’s Challenge Anneka and popped on some wedges – I was going for an 'oh, this old thing?' look. With a spritz of the Guess Seductive fragrance (this is not a drill!) and a touch of gloss I was out of the door. I can’t seem to resist this industry’s charms - fashion hangover? What hangover?
Blanketed in Americana denim the event was breezily cool. Cute as a button Eliza Doolittle pumped out some tunes in her denim shorts all-in-one as actor Luke Evans, socialite/blogger Prince Cassius, models, photographers, media and general beautiful people floated through the Air Gallery while supping back the vodka ‘Stuntman’ cocktails – what a view....
The no-show Christmas Adonis dreams died - but a room full of scorchingly hot boys came to its funeral! I'm officially fully recovered from my 'fashion month hangover' and have been swept off my feet by the industry again – with evenings like this, what’s not to love about this job?!"
