London Fashion Week*

London Fashion Week-
What a Capital idea!
A festival sartorial
Of what to expect to wear…
I’d love the opportunity
To see it all first hand-
For pure inspiration
And perhaps to understand
The translation of ideas
From the catwalk to the high street:
Elegance and beauty
With the world at its feet,
While women, wide and five-foot five,
With hope in their hearts,
Strive to retain their dignity
When the fun really starts.
The elegance, the wafting,
Of hair, limbs and lines,
With price tags unspoken
To keep the thing refined…
I’d really love to be there
Though they’d never let me in-
For one thing, House of Primark
Is where I begin-
It’s well within my budget
And their stuff lasts for years…
Mix-and-match with a bit of black
Allays most faux-pas fears.
And then there’s George Street Vintage:*
What more could a Fashionista need?
-A charity shop emporium,
Uniqueness guaranteed…
My father, bless his socks,
Must be spinning in his grave,
This kind of recycling
A strange way to behave
But, hey, he had his reasons*
And with those, I’d concur,
Were it not for modern products
That deep cleanliness assure…
And far less risk of meeting
Someone else who looks like me.
No comments, please-
This is no place for pyrrhic victory!
It happened once, at Christmas
In a local public house-
Me and a chap(!), stood at the bar
In the very same style
Of M and S jump-ar…
Thankfully we laughed
And went our separate ways
But never again did that item see
The cold light of day!
It’s not what you wear,
It’s the ways you can wear it-
A comfortable kind of confidence,
Whether designer or counterfeit…

-and this ;0)


– and in order of appearance, as ever:

*My term of affection for the local shopping street: end-to-end charity outlets… interspersed with cafés, of course!

*My father was Indian by birth- carrying a deep-seated understanding of how ‘rags’ can transmit disease



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