A look from Moschino Cheap and Chic. Photo courtesy of ImaxTree.com.
I snuck into a fashion show last night. I didn’t plan to—In fact, I fully thought I had been invited to the Moschino Cheap and Chic show and that my invitation got lost in the mail. But I showed up to the last show of the night all bright-eyed and bushy tailed (that’s a lie—I was hobbling from nine continuous hours of heel wearing) to discover that I wasn’t on the list. It was a mob scene outside of the venue. There were hordes of people milling about, a couple of security guards screaming at people to form a line, totally nuts. The very nice PR girl asked me to step inside the door of the venue so she could check for my name on her list. “I have O’Brien here,” she said. “But no O’Neill.” I was so sad. Then, she turned around and started talking to three other people, and I was already in the door, which is the hardest part, so I walked away as calmly as I could, found a seat for myself in the back and alternated between feeling so proud of my daringness and so scared that the girl with a clipboard would find me and kick me out.
Click through to read more of Alannah’s London Fashion Week dispatch…
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