Shortly after waking up in London for the shows this morning, I was told, "First Stop - Topshop," and obviously jumped for joy.
But when Faran saw the glee on my face, she rephrased, "No. The Topshop show."
OK. I could handle that.
We walked down a very long, dark concrete ramp into a warehouse-like space. Half was set up as a café with checkered picnic tablecloths, champagne and fish and chips.
Half was, of course, the runway. It was a smaller space than I expected with an awesomely disheveled Alexandra Shulman in the front row and swirly circular lights in the background. There were boxes on our seats with silk horseshoe scarves - sweet.
The Katie Grand-styled show was equal parts Crybaby, rodeo, Working Girl and Amy Winehouse. There was Vlada and there was Jourdan. There were candy colored rompers, Varsity Letter-like jackets and cardigans, denim jumpsuits and various head decorations.
If the current Topshop fare is anything like it, my credit cards can rest easy.
But I will be teasing my hair tonight.
