I’m not exactly certain how this happened, but I’m leaving for London Fashion Week tomorrow. Sure, I’ve been prepping for roughly six months—researching
designers, requesting tickets to shows, figuring out airfare and accommodation–    yet somehow, the thought that this trip is happening tomorrow (and that I still need to pack!) shocks and alarms me on an hourly basis. You know that feeling when you have an important event you want to
look nice for, and then you check out your closet and realize you have absolutely
nothing to wear? Multiply that by five days, then picture being in the same small room with people like the Anna’s (that’s Wintour and Dello Russo, respectively). It’s enough to make you break out in hives. In fact, today I realized that packing for
fashion week is like experiencing the seven stages of grief: Allow me to explain.
What, it’s fashion week already?
It can’t be…the last one just ended…