So I'll bet you're wondering where I've been? Why hath I deserted you once again? I can only apologise folks, but I have two very good reasons for my season of silence... First, is that since my stint in Bath at the end of October/beginning of November, I have been recovering from the experience; I know it may seem like a long time for that to your lovely selves, but pour moi - 13 chronic, degenerative illnesses work in their own time. The second (way more interesting) reason is that Yours Truly has been working hard on my debut novel! Remember when I told you I had a BIG secret to be revealed? Well this was it - for a taster of what's to come, check out a preview chapter on the ESintheP Facebook Page. Not right now though - now we get down to business. The Queen of Hip Hop Soul has returned, and I just couldn't let the occasion pass without saying something. I guess you will have all heard by now that Her Majesty has returned to the painful roots that we all know and love her for (not to get in her business, but it's no secret that the Queen no longer has a King, what with her 12-year marriage to Kendu Isaacs imploding after she discovered he was fooling around with her protege on her dime). Whilst she says that she named the album before everything went the southern route, it's clearly evident from standout anthems like Thick of It, the freakishly Faith Evans inducingSet Me Free, and U + Me (Love Lesson), that Ms. Mary put her pain in the music. It's one big cathartic 'cheque please'. There is not a single dud on this album, each track is as good as the last. It's a GRAMMY-worthy plethora of singles with production for days. An album full of testimonies that see her credit not her own 20+ year, built up resilience, but the Good and Gracious Man Upstairs and his Son for her strength, the overall message also denotes a humility that we can all recognise as true from a Mary who has grown into a mightily wise woman. Without one ounce of the cockiness that some with as many years in the game as she, could justifiably hold; it is definitely this down-to-Earth Diva that so many herald as a true, living, loving, life guru. Whilst this album is the equative result of the bombastic beats of My Life + the self-love message of No More Drama; it's beautiful to see Mary's growth as an artist explicitly implied. Unlike the desperation and loss of direction implied in Mary's earlier heartbreak compilations, this one carries a different overall message (hence the No More Drama element) - she's not beaten, and she's not broken; in fact, she's Indestructible. Kudos to her for the personal growth that shines through into the music. Featuring spots from Kanye West, DJ Khaled, Quavo, Missy Elliott, Prince Charlez, KAYTRANADA and BADBADNOTGOOD; let's be honest, the world is alwaysgonna close ranks and support this member of royalty.
'Strength of A Woman' is available from all independent retailers now. Make sure you come back Wednesday for updates on my shenanigans of the past week; including stops at the London College of Fashion, and Pop PR's Press Day; where I show you some of the latest from their extremely talented list of designers. Until the next... ES
Oh, how good it is to be back! Have you missed me? Because I've missed you darlings, and after not having the use of my arms or hands for the last 9 days, I can honestly tell you, to be able to deliver this to you is a beautiful miracle within itself. Now then, to business. I have been in love with Donald Glover aka Childish Gambino, ever since I saw his skinny frame do a turn as 'Andre' in my personal favourite flick of 2015 (I'm not going to mention the title of it, but just know that it was XXL for good no, great measure, my ponies...); I realise this makes me late to the party, but hey - how else does one make an entrance?!
Childish Gambino's Awaken, My Love! wins the award for creepiest album cover...
Having listened to John Legend's new album Darkness and Light earlier, it struck me that in comparison to Childish Gambino's opening track , Legend's was so...well, for want of a better term - blah! Most people would substitute that with vanilla, but here's the thing, vanilla is one of my favourite flavours, I think it's deeelish; so here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to substitute vanilla with a lesser loved, bland flavour, in my humble opinion, like...Chocolate. I'm going to compare the opening of John Legend's album flavour to chocolate. Not the good, Ferrero Rocher kind of chocolate, obviously; I'm talking the 26p, supermarket own brand stuff, that only tastes of bicarbonate of soda and butter.
Gambino's opener, Me and Your Mama on the other hand; aside from the disturbing, never to be considered connotations evoked by that title, delivered a boot to your face opener that you feel way deep in your spleen - Bluesy, soulful, and dripping with Prince-esque, melodic screams of pain; this, is vanilla music, my friends, and it's sumptuously, finger lickin' good.
Have Some Love begins with a thick drum beat, followed by a choir intro straight out of the deep South. Gambino begins with a quiet vocal growing from the background, delivered in a staccato beat against the backdrop of the 70's funk beat. By the time he reaches the forefront, the choir returns, and you realise that they are delivering the chorus, singing deep and true about spreading love amongst your fellow man, and in your community.
By the intro of Boogieman you're fairly sure that Glover was high when he recorded this album. Yes, I know, all the signs were there, but I missed them - what can I say, I'm sober. The Hendrix meets Mayfield-like production treatment of 70's Soul+Funk+Rock is psychedelic love pouring through your speakers; all you're missing is a lava lamp and an afro.
If ever there was proof of the loftiness of Gambino's state of mind, Zombies is it. Whilst there is an argument to be made that there is a deeper, existential level on which the true meaning of this song lies, ie. some reference to the corporate suits sucking an artist's creativity dry for profit, For the most part, you just think he's lost in a purple haze.
Riot sounds like a Black Panther cry in 2016. A musically political statement, it's a black leather glove-clad fist in the air to socialism and the socioeconomic state of people, as a whole, around the world.
Redbone has a great, catchy melody to back the metaphorical lyrics, which I must admit, did take a second listen for me to really grasp. Talking to a lady who won't give him any sweet good loving; Gambino waits for the duration of the first verse, but by the second, he's over it, and it's herturn to persuade him to stick around. I guess you could say that he comes full circle, if you know what I'm saying...
Californiaexudes the State's sunshine through the production, which samples Charles Wright's 'Express Yourself' for it's effective sound. The characterisation that Gambino employs for this, and every song thus far are part of what make this album as prolific as it is in terms of good fantasy-filled songs. It's odd, but captivating, and you cannot wait to see where he is going to take it all next.
In this case, it's to track number eight, entitled Terrified. Led by an eerie bass, Gambino sings as smoothly as MJ on Thriller, only way more frightening when he suddenly talks about eating you,,,the production is stellar, the backing track a beautifully mellow composition filled with muted Soulful instruments, that contribute to make a ridiculously hot track. The anonymous female vocal adds a slick touch that turns this into a masterpiece.
Baby Boy is an ode to a newborn on the brink of losing his father to the law, completely throwing you from where you thought the track was going to go lyrically. The direction takes you completely by surprise, and as you listen to the track being played on the harpsichord, you can't help but think that if this album doesn't walk away with a serious award collection, then someone clearly isn't listening. The bass-led track screams the pain of loss through the instruments, and makes you feel every single ounce of it - Exemplary.
The Night Me and Your Mama Met is a soft, funk-based, soul-filled track that makes you think of being on the beach at night, with the waves lapping all around you; and by the time the harmonies start, it's as if the very sea is singing to you itself. The electric guitar is haunting and spellbinding, telling a 'when our eyes first met across a crowded room' story that plays out in your own mind.
Album closer, Stand Tall is the only track where Gambino dispenses with the persona, and is himself. His voice is beautiful, rich, roughly textured, and raspy. Andre is back in the building Ladies and Gentlemen, and even though the topic is of the message passed down first from Father to Son, then from Mother, it is seductive beyond belief. The reverb adds legendary finesse to the depth of his tone, and the range he displays is smooth and reminiscent of Mr Marvin Gaye himself. Truly beautiful work.
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When musicians talk of creating art, this is the type of work to which they aspire. Childish Gambino's album completely surpasses most of the albums that have come out this year. It sounds like nothing else we have heard, with the exception of Solange'sA Seat At the Table (look for a little something special coming on that before the end of the year) and is in a league completely of it's own. This is an artist to watch people - and not just because he's a genius with a serenade about women named Caroline...
Three events down, five times out in the last (almost) three years, and I was back inside the hallowed halls of the Freemason's. Doctors told me once that I wasn't going to be well enough to continue my professional activities, and for a while, Ialmostbelieved them. But then one day, I decided that I would like to try some things - nothing tooextraordinary - just enough to bring me back to present day, and suddenly...look where I am.
Rushing to make my first show on Day 1, which was the Ones To Watch Award winners, selected by Fashion Scout, time was tight as one of my new Carers and I arrived at Waterloo. To be sure that I did not miss the beginning of the show since I would be coming from so far away this time (I lived in South London the last time I attended, nice and accessible), I jumped in a taxi with my new Carer, a young Romanian called Ana who was not only going to her first fashion show, but was joining me for her first day on the job, so I wasn't the only one on an adventure!
Being in a wheelchair now, I didn't know what the building's pre-arrangementsfor the disabled were, and so I've found the best approach to be pre-warning people that I am coming and that I cannot be alone (people tend to get a tad panicky when they see a tremor attack in action without warning). Having done that with organisers POP PR a few times over, I was surprised when the security staff that I reported to didn't know that I was coming, and thus hadn't allotted a space for me. A somewhat surly man who seemed to think that I turned up willy nilly, was a little brusque with me about finding a spot to put us. Spotting my POP contact, the ever stunning Portia as we were led up the runway, I stopped to butt in and say hello on the way; risking the imminent wrath of the burly older man in the security guard's uniform. After exchanging our greeting, I hurriedly followed the unhappy looking man to the top of the runway, to right where the models wouldreturn (to exit).
Nail-bitingly terrified that I was going to be in the way, I asked if he was sure he wanted us there, would I not be blocking the models? The tense guard informed me that had he known that I was coming, he could have found a better place to put me, but no-one had told him. Explaining that I diddo my due diligence in advance, Burly's features seemed to soften, and he became a bit kinder before he left us. Afraid the show would start any second, I reminded Ana of what I was going to need her to do as we were doing it. The sweet girl of 24, got me settled and went into my 'Go Bag' to get the camera and everything else I would need for the show. Before I knew it though, Burly was back, and telling us not to get too comfortable, because he was going to move us across the runway.
Now more terrified than ever, I let Ana get into the second row, before I tried to squash my 120kg wheelchair into the tiny, non-existent space at the start of the FROW; bothering some very kind and friendly young ladies, who offered to help (code for: I caused a commotion and brought attention to myself). Naturally, the wheels on my chair got stuck in the space between the wall, a sudden dip in the floor, and the benches. Despite several attempts to manoeuvre myself out of it, it just didn't work. Burly tried pulling on my chair, to no avail, and before you knew it, the lights dimmed, and Burly sped off backstage! Seeing my rigid armrest stick out in the way of the narrow path where I was quite sure each model was going to bang into it and dislocate a hip bone, which would of course poke through their side and get blood all over the super expense ensembles, when I couldn't even afford to arrange a payment plan for a button... Trying to put my professional face on since Olympic diver Tom Daley was sat directly opposite me with his freshly bleached hair, it was all I could do not to scream as the first model emerged and I pictured her protruding hip bone; add to that the fact that she was wearing pastels, so the blood would definitely stain. And then I took in the designs...Ana Ljubinkovic was up first. Ana Ljubinkovic
Ana Ljubinkovic
The initial thought that came to mind as I watched the first design take to the runway, was ice cream. I had visions of the unusual pastel creations being worn in a west end parlour chain with five hundred flavours. Later, it would be suggested to me that they could also be pictured as futuristic space uniforms, which I could also totally see. The other thing that I couldn't get over were the shapes; each more unorthodox than the last. Not for the average body type, it was easy to see Ljubinkovic's vision for how the garments would sit on the perfect form; precisely cut and made to stand out. Despite the muted colours and abstract shapes, the uniform collection was a smart, clean-cut one, with wearable separates masked by the avant garde presentation; consisting of tops, skirts, shorts, capri pants and minidresses, the twists came not in the peplum shaped detailing on the sleeves, waists or hips, but in cookie colour cut outs, or wings with exaggerated curves. The sexy air was added by what was taken away. The hint of skin as opposed to the exposed; but make no mistake - each detail was out of this world.
Anissa Aida
Anissa Aida
I would later meet Aida and declare her the winner for the nicest designer personality award. As for her creations however, I would have to declare that they weren't my cup of char. Although a clear winner for being in keeping with the denim trend, what I liked about them - apart from what looked like a great option for my next work bag - was that they reminded me of the Orient. I could see workers in rice paddies wearing these, but they wouldn't be my selection for a day to day wardrobe, barring a few pieces that I could dress up with other options. I don't know whether that was the look that she was going for, having never managed to find an opportunity to corner her and discuss the collection, but that was definitely what I took away from her collection of separates, which were very loose fitting, and androgynous. For those looking for casual comfort, then I would say that this is the collection for you; sleeves were either elbow or cuff length in shirts and dresses that emanate laid-back wear. Asymmetrical lengths were a note of interest, as was the colour scheme of denim blue, light grey and white. I appreciated the thought process, however I just wasn't in love with the results. Billie Jacobina
Billie Jacobina
Definitely ready to party, Jacobina brought neon and silver to the fore, as we watched a collection consisting of see-through plastic, fur, and what appeared to be scales, in place of skin. There was a definite aquatic theme throughout, as I noticed what appeared to be several Octopi in neon pink and orange, as well as what I think were either algae, jellyfish or even a Portuguese man o' war...? I am always the first to say that you cannot detrite someone's vision, but she even lost me with that one! There were silver sequins on white jersey-like material, which made up leggings underneath wide-leg culottes, and they appeared to be covered in neon-coloured stripes. I applaud the daring, I thought the models with their bare, vaselined faces, white wigs, and 'BEAM' trainers that lit up around the soles with each step, were the most outlandish and visually interesting yet, but I'm afraid that the collection was also not for me. Ester Kubisz
Ester Kubisz
Rounding things off, Kubisz had the most calm, immediately wearable collection of the four. Unisex in her monotone palette of black, white and grey, the mostly masculine line consisted of jackets, shirts, shorts, and trousers; but it was in the frayed edges where she found her mangled edge. Not particularly mindblowing to me, I found that there was little to make me think about what I was seeing. For all intents and purposes, each of the previous collections had brought ideas of something to mind, and I'm very sad to say that the most this made me think of was Christian Bale in American Psycho - this wardrobe would be perfect for him. I could even see Reese Witherspoon in the female version of the shorts. I don't necessarily know if that's a good thing? Hey, at least that means it's wearable, right? I see these, more than any others, playing out in everyday life - just not mine.
The show now finished, I breathed a sigh of relief that no-one was harmed by my chair, and went back to focusing on getting out of this mini-cavern I had fallen into. Burly returned and, fast becoming my new best friend, began maneuvering my wheels to get me back onto level ground which, to my shock, eventually worked! Thanking him sincerely, he asked me if I was going to be back for any additional shows, and I informed him who I would be seeing later. He offered to arrange a space for me, and dare I say it, I think I left the room (post Tom Daley selfie), with us being firm friends. To the exhibition hall we headed, so that I could backup my photos on 'The Bayby' (my miniature notebook), but before we could get that far, I marvelled at how things had changed in the past five seasons; no longer a charging station, the cloakroom area had been overtaken by sponsors Crabtree & Evelyn, who set up shop with quite the natural environment for visitors to grab complimentary hand massages, or just sit and relax! I could've keeled over in shock. As I listened to Ana babble infectiously about how amazing her first fashion show was, I couldn't help but smile, until I felt myself get overly emotional. I realised that I was back in the building, and achieved what I thought I never would again. Despite the odds and adversities, I was here; and even if I couldn't make it all the way to my last show of the day, the fact that I had made it this far was enough for me, I could go home disappointed that I hadn't completed the day, but pleased and proud that I had made it over the first hurdle. No-one would ever be able to take that away from me, the victory was all my own. Deciding to push on, having backed up my photos for safety, and taken my next round of painkillers to target the struggles that I was already feeling, I told Ana that it was time to get ready for the next show. Remembering Burly had told me to be outside the next hall ten minutes early, I suggested that we saw to our needs and got going, so that's what we did. Outside of the gallery even earlier than told, Burly led me through and perched me in a prime spot at the end of the catwalk. "This better for your shots?" He asked, at which I was hardpressed not to plant a wet, sloppy one on his cheek. Since I couldn't reach him, I gave him a good view of my pearly whites instead and, if I'm not mistaken, won him over with my charm. Trying to ease the worsening pain in my legs, I got Ana to take my legs down from the incorrectly placed footplates, which force my legs and hips into an unnatural position, and therefore cause me additional pain on top of the aches and waves that I was feeling, and got as comfortable as they would allow for the show. Before I knew it, the lights went down, and the works of Rocky Star paraded down the catwalk... Rocky Star Finally - this was what I came here to see! With every model that approached, the work became more intrinsic, and beautiful. The embroidery and patterns were beautiful, Herculean feats of artistry. The Middle Eastern vibe of the models added cultural depth, and the richness of the silks, satin, chiffon, brocade, patterns, ruching, and ruffles, were absolutely intoxicating. Each design made the wearer look like a Goddess, so deeply textural were the pieces. Honestly, there was not one creation that did not make me marvel in wonder. I loved Star's use of colour - though flesh-toned and darker in some places, all served to add to the wealth of the garment. Models wore slicked back ponytails, with smokey eyes and nude lips, there was an effortless beauty to each, as the clothing did all the work. Where headpieces or statement embellished earrings were worn, they only added to the experience - and that, the showing was. It was far more than just a catwalk; the showing was a journey that Star took his viewers on, and with the degree of beauty that I saw - it's safe to say that the whole affair was a rousing success.
Moving off to the vestibule - the only venue I have ever seen this lady show at, I waited in amused anticipation for Pam Hogg. Always a showstopper, my beloved Portia moved me from where Burly initially put me, guiding me to the end of the catwalk, right by the photographer's pit (my favourite spot); and had me placed perfectly to celebrity-spot. Starting with All Saints alum Melanie Blatt, whose daughter I remember being born, now walking in the show for, I believe, her third season straight, I felt myself age under the burning lights. Of course, the show was running late (as expected), and I discreetly asked a passing Security Guard whether they expect this late start every year, to which I was informed that not only do they expect it, but it's their collectivemost hatedshow, everyseason! Chuckling to myself, I watched the 'celebs' like TOWIE/MIC regulars, awfulexcuses for tattooed Rappers, pretty up and coming singers, and the like, have their moments in front of the flashing bulbs. Others hob-nobbed, and I got chatting to my skilled neighbour; a talented artist who would do the most interesting interpretations of the pieces with various sized felt pens, and great big sheets of brown paper. She told me that she misses half of the collection in the time that it takes her to draw but, looking down and seeing the fruits of her labours, I had to say that it was L'Oreal worth it. Chatting to Ana next, and getting to know her a bit better, we were just laughing over a shared joke, when suddenly, the lights went down (early)! Pam Hogg As always, some dramatic punk music started, and some models descended in pvc and what appeared to be leather dresses; followed by skin tight shiny one pieces of varied forms, jumpsuits, leotards, and two pieces that involved shorts that let bum flesh hang out. Expecting nothing less, but also knowing that I had seen it all before, I almost started snapping on autopilot, and instead paying more attention to the drawings by my neighbour. Then something extraordinary happened. A wearable piece of art came floating down the runway...non extrovert material, it was a beautiful chiffon playsuit, in a gorgeous coral shade that, if I had the figure, even I would wear - and that's the first time that I have everthought that about a piece of Pam Hogg couture!
Pam Hogg
Utterly flabbergasted, I looked around to see if anyone else shared my sentiment. Nobody else seemed to, so I simply sat in quiet shock. This was the most eclectic collection that I had ever seen from Hogg, and I wasn't quite sure what to make of it? Entitled 'Great Expectations', I was confused, because if anything, what I was seeing was more Alice In Wonderland, with the peplum upper arm sleeves, and the tulle skirts. There was also lurex and other shiny materials, platform shoes without heels, and a lot of big hair - whether it be by big, bright rolled curls pinned into place, or white afro wigs. There were more sprinklings of the chiffon designs, in the form of a black calf-length dress, with a waist-deep cleavage dip, a soft pink peplum blouse, a white ruched dress, cut with angel wings, and a see-through skirt layer. The patterns are not reminiscent of anything that I recognise, but interesting none the less (for the most part). Before I knew it, the show was over, and that was the end of my first day at London Fashion Week - but my, what a day it was...
When my Carer and I first arrived at Kensington Olympia, I was enthralled by all the glistening beauty surrounding me. Sparkling in every direction, it was hard to pick which way to go when all looked so inviting. Remembering my manners, I was intent on finding my kind host, the lovely Suzanna Hammond of Hammond PR, but there was only 10 minutes to go before the second catwalk of the day took place, and I was keen not to miss it. Vowing to find my kind host straight afterward, we were a literal blur amongst the aisles as we searched for the stage. Managing to find it just as the show began, I got some quick help with setting the camera up as my osteoarthritic hands chose the occasion to begin seizing and making life difficult.
I managed to find an angle in which to hold the camera that would at least allow me to press the shutter button if nothing else. Focusing on holding the camera steady (no pun intended), I watched what seemed like a breathtaking catwalk routine through my viewfinder. Led by a male model that was positively delectable, a swarm of ladies paraded around him in trinkets and baubles that I could swear made my jewellery boxes cry out in wronged pain all the way from home. The wardrobe the ladies sported was as sharp as the diamonds they wore, that I'm sure could have cut glass - and that was just the crease in a well-tailored trouser leg.
The Alpha and my competition - darn their size 6 waists...
Entertaining and well-choreographed, you could get lost in reveries of what it would be like to own some of the luxurious pieces on show. The bridal portion was a childhood dream of dress up, come to life. Diamonds, gold, platinum and pearls draped upon the ears, necks, chests, and wrists of the four female models, all cooing around the distinctly alpha male. At its sophisticated end, I kept my vow and began making my way to the Press Office. Noticing a woman with a makeup bag flitting around in a hurry, I recognised the show's makeup assistant, and cornered her on her travels. Offering to find the chief makeup artist for me instead, I agreed to wait whilst she went and located her for a brief, impromptu chat.
I met the lovely Shari, Head of Hair and Makeup at the show and asked her a few quick questions:
How were you able to come up with the inspiration for hair and makeup that matched each look within the show?
"Well I wanted something that was elegant, and expensive looking, but that would also last well with all of the constant changes; that would also be quite feminine, but with a little bit of edge."
How did you get the looks together when they came to your mind's eye?
One of the stunning catwalk models
"In my mind I wanted it to look quite Parisian; you know that wonderful femininity, and elegance that you see on the Paris streets. That lovely kind of clean hairline, but with a slight edge; so the plaits are quite textured, and quite knotted, so I thought that gave it more of a fashion edge, but nice and clean."
Is this your typical type of show? What sort of look do you put together when you're working with models everyday?
"I think I'm quite lucky because every job I do is quite different; I do an equal amount of advertising, tv shows, fashion shoots, and fashion shows - everything is different, it all depends who the client is. The understanding of what the client needs is also quite important. I've actually designed London Edge at the same time, so I've got a team over there now, and that look is very sort of, big quiffs, and slick sides, with long, slick straight bits. So that look is sort of younger, and much more 'fashiony'. So it's just about chatting to the client really, and seeing what they want."
Which do you feel plays to your strengths more - is this sort of event not more restrictive in what you're able to play around with usually?
"I think because of the nature of the show, I can't push it as much, it does have to be a bit more feminine, and sleeker; I couldn't get away with the frizz, and the bolder colours which is a bit more for the teenage crowd, it does have to be a bit more classic. But I just love doing everything, so it's nice that I can do that over there and do this here."
What's your next job?
"I'm at ITV's This Morning tomorrow, then I'm doing a commercial next week, and I'm doing a shoot in Berlin this weekend, so nice and busy!"
After kindly thanking Shari for her time, and giving her my information, I got back to my plan and made my way to the Press Office, but not without being sidetracked by some astounding beauty along the way. R.M. Shah made my eyes shinelike beacons over their raw stones, particularly as Mrs Shah was nice enough to explain the mining and polishing process to me.
The Shahs Shiny Pretty Things...
Ilona Biggins was next; her necklaces were absolutely stunning, and I wantedeverything, in duplicate. Feeling like Dorothy on the way to the literal Emerald City, I refused to be deterred by any more poppies. Spotting the sign for the lift, I kept my eyes glued to it, and powered my wheelchair at full speed in its direction.
Ilona Biggins and her Stones of Wonder...
Ever the gracious, welcoming hosts, I met Suzanna and her colleague Jennifer Hall-Thompson as I arrived at the door. I musttake this opportunity to let you know that throughout my entire hiatus over the past few years, Suzanna and Jennifer were theonlyones to keep in touch with me and find out how I was doing. For that I am eternally grateful and indebted for their kindness. Hence my determination to make the final day of the event at least, despite how rough I was feeling. Recognising me instantly without so much as the usual blink that I have received by every former colleague or contact that I have met who knew me before I got sicker; they welcomed me with kind, open arms, and took the time out of their busy schedules to check in with me and find out how I'vereallybeen. Their sweet, welcomingkindness will neverbe forgotten.
Venturing back out onto the floor after a glass of something grapey, I allowed myself to revel in the beauty surrounding me. Keeping my eyes on the time, because I wanted to catch the final catwalk one more time so that I could view him...I mean itmore thoroughly this time, with Shari's aesthetic in mind. On the way back, I was mesmerised by the Bogarta stand. Regal, and fit for stately affairs, only thesight of a familiar face could tear me away, and I jumped at the lifeline. Saying hello to Lucy Quartermaine, she informed me that one of my friends was exhibiting a few stands down and, I promised to return and find her after I saw to my needs. Having to make my way backdownstairs (after encountering a Security Guard who suggested I use the stairs when asked for directions); I found the disabledtoilets and cannot write this piece without mentioning the most inconvenient stall I have everencountered in my life - and for once, that's notan exaggeration.
At the point of entry into what also doubles as a mother and baby changing unit, there was some type of strange, hard plasticassemblage exactly head and body height with me in my chair, right at the door to the small toilet. Now, aside from the fact that there is room for one and one only when some disabled users (like myself) need a second person inside with them; this entity at the door made it almost impossible to actually get inside the room, because it blocked the entry. It is placed in the most ridiculous position and can only have been done by an able-bodied person who only thought (and I use that term loosely) from the perspective of someone who doesn't have to considerobstructions in their everyday life.
Back on the main floor, we made our way back upstairs, and went in search of my beautiful friend Maria of Maree London. Interrupting her showing her lovely Mum around the stand, we had a brilliant catch up, before she introduced me to hergorgeous new 'Ether' collection:
My beautiful friend Maria and her gorgeous baubles
After chatting about what's been happening with her work since we heard from one another last, and her recommending I read the compelling bookThe Secret, which I am currently entranced by; we were forced to say our goodbyes. The venue was due to close soon, and I still had an infinite list of brands that I wanted to see after the final catwalk, which we would miss if we didn't hurry back downstairs immediately. Down on the ground floor, we were almost in front of the catwalk space when I noticed an adorable little girl sitting on a bench in floods of tears. My conscience refusing to allow me to go further without checking if she was alright, I stopped and asked her if she was okay, to which she replied that she had lost her Mummy. Springing into responsible Aunty mode, I asked her and her mother's names, whilst my Carer noticed a security guard ahead of us, about toturn a corner.
Speeding after him as fast as my chair would allow, I left the little beauty with my Carer whilst I got his attention. Explaining the situation to him, he hurried back with me to give a report to his colleagues. On our return, little cutie indicated that she was wearing a wristband with her mother's name and phone number. Working as an impromptu team whilst the catwalk beganbehind me, the security guard continued on his radio, whilst I began calling the number on her wristband. After the sixth call with no answer, I finally got a brusque callback that changed to grateful once I explained that I had found her daughter. Directing her to where we were, I informed the sweet, pretty young thing that her Mummy was on the way, and the weighty teardrops halted almost immediately.
Trying to distract her until her mother arrived, we discussed the books in her hands. She informed us that her Mummy had her sit there with them to occupy her whilst she went to look at stands! Shocked that a mother would actually leave her gorgeous young daughter of 8 years oldalone in such a huge, packed out venue, just so she could look at some gems! Keeping my flabbergasted reaction to my eyes only, they met my Carer's over her head and mirrored what my own must have been saying. The security guard asked her how long her mother had been gone; after mulling the question over in her little mind for a few moments, she came back with "Mmmm...About...three minutes." With a look of intense contemplation on her face. The severity of the situation prevented the laughter that wanted to follow such an innocent faux pas.
My phone rang again, and it was the mother saying that she couldn't find us, despite my directions and her daughter's quite right refusal to move from where her Mummy left her, when suddenly, up little cutie jumps and hurtles at full speed over to a young, beautiful woman, hugging her for dear life. Mother and daughter reunited, good deed done for the day and on we went to watch the remainder of the show, right after pretty young thing ran back over to me, all huge smiles, eyes shining bright, with a bounce in her step, to thank me - I couldn't help but smile.
Back to my own mission, and I moved into place to catch what was left of the catwalk on camera:
After waving a mental farewell to my 13-minute, imaginary boyfriend, it was time to take in the stands for the rest of the show's opening time, if I could make it that long. The ugly pains and evil wooziness had begun to creep back in, and not just because I had to pass rather large gems that I couldn't take home with me. Remembering that there was a designer I had promised to come back to, we headed back upstairs to the stand for John Moore Jewellery, one of the Editor's Choice Winners. I had been borderline hypnotised by the most architecturally interesting piece of jewellery that I think I have ever seen, and I just had to learn more about it. Hoping not to offend, I told Moore that his piece reminded me of a slinky, the childhood toy that so many of us without stairs in our homes failed to take in the simple joy afforded by it; only to be told that that was part of the initial inspiration! I felt like I had just won a game of Blockbusters...
John Moore's neck slinky...if you can get it down that far
Insistent that I try the necklace on, I ran out of excuses of why I shouldn't touch the object that saw replicas start at around £5,000 - Mama didn't raise no fool, I learned from the jewellery atelier visit in Amsterdam she took me on when I was 7 years old; where the salesman let me hold what was then, the world's biggest diamond, which I promptly dropped on the glass caseby accident, and had everyone in the room on the verge of a heart attack, not least my poor Mother, who instantly began going grey. Placing the necklace over my head and guiding it downward, it got as far as my mouth in the front, and the back of my skull, when the elasticity got as forgiving as it was going to be, and Moore promptly said: "I underestimated how big your hair was in the back..." on my particularlyflathair day...
Now returned from the Ladies room, my Carer had to help the eager designer detangle it from my hair and subsequently my personage. Still conversing all the while, she could hold her tongue no longer and simply had to butt in to remove the plum-coloured pinstripes that began at my lips and rose to my hairline, further proving just how stuck the necklace got around me. Stating: "Oh yes, I had noticed that," Moore was saved only by his immense talents...and the fact that there was a heavy security presence in the building. Too nice not to be forgiven, we conversed some more, and I talked being a part of my planned new feature, to which he readily agreed - so look out for that in the coming months.
Before we knew it, the announcement came that the venue was now closed, show over, and I had yet to snap the stand of my favourite nominee for the National Association of Jeweller's Designer of the Year 2016 as promised. Whizzing back to Lucy Quartermaine's stand, I got my fill of wonderment, including her 'Icicle' collection included in IJL's Designer Brands for 2016, among other breathtaking creations. Having a quick catch up with the blonde beauty as she and her staff packed up, I learned that she was shortly headed overseas for another show, but we agreed to talk future coverage on her return, so I'll be dropping her a line soon.
Lucy Q proved why she's a nominee for the NAJ Designer of the Year 2016...
With that I saw a burly, and hungry-looking security guard headed my way. Not one to keep a man from his evening tea...and because I wasslightly frightened, I sped in the opposite direction and found myself at the lift before he caught up with us. About to break my camera down, I came across the shiny Sokolov stand and justhadto grab a few snaps from there before I did.
Sokolov Filigree to die for...
Before I could be overruled by anymore of my magpie tendencies, the aforementioned pain returned, particularly in my legs, and reminded me that it was really time to get on my way.
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That's allfor this year folx, but be sure to check out the event photo album which will be up on the ESintheP Facebook Pagethis weekend. I hadaimed to have it for you today, but having only just gotten my new computer sorted, I only just learned that my usual editing software has been discontinued (there were screams), so I shall get to grips with my new one and have a plethora of albums (well, 3 hopefully) for you to look through by then. PLEASE Forgive me, but I am only one humble human!
On that note, I shall be back later with the first part of my London Fashion Week series - WearItWednesday it NOT over!
Until the next...
ES
All photos courtesy of EricaSharlette of EricaSharlette Promotions Ltd.
The Queen of Hip Hop Soul has returned, and I just couldn't let the occasion pass without saying something. I guess you will have all heard by now that Her Majesty has returned to the painful roots that we all know and love her for (not to get in her business, but it's no secret that the Queen no longer has a King, what with her 12-year marriage to Kendu Isaacs imploding after she discovered he was fooling around with her protege on her dime). Whilst she says that she named the album before everything went the southern route, it's clearly evident from standout anthems like Thick of It, the freakishly Faith Evans inducing Set Me Free, and U + Me (Love Lesson), that Ms. Mary put her pain in the music. It's one big cathartic 'cheque please'.
