Flitting in and out of the country, and real life, like a falling leaf, for the past month and a half has meant that I've missed all the usual pointers - conkers falling, leaves turning from green, through yellow to red before falling crisply underfoot, that smoky bonfire smell on frosty mornings, the gradual slipping of the sun in the sky and now it's time to turn the clocks back and embrace dark evenings and weekends spent fireside in a country pub drinking Guinness and eating roast dinners.
Doing all four fashion weeks for the first time was an eye-opener. New York was still mid-summer (see my last blog) so there was no chance to impress with the new autumn wardrobe. Flying straight back on the red eye into London fashion week was a kind of tiredness I think I can only cope with twice a year (at most) and working more than 21 days in a row without a day off makes you start to feel a little crazy. There was a small breather (2 days) before Milan (the Duomo at night below) where I squeezed in an old friend's work dinner/ masked ball back in Yorkshire before heading onto Paris where our hotel was overbooked and we were shipped miles away from the perfect location.
But there is something in the air at fashion week that makes you forget everything else in your life. Yes, miners might be trapped in Chile but did you see Marc Jacobs seventies inspired show? Did you hear about Tom Ford's womenswear comeback? Did you go to the Marni re-see (photos below) and bump into American Vogue's Grace Coddington? Well, yes actually we did. Why doesn't my wardrobe look like this?
It might sound shallow (and it probably is) but there is a kind of Stockholm Syndrome that stems from fashion week. You see the same faces for a month (like an extended school trip), you don't sleep much, you don't eat much, you only read fashion press and magazines, the only conversations you have are about fashion and the shows you've seen or will see ... The only things that feel real are in your fashion bubble and thank God for the people around you who get you through it (thank you to our lovely crew). And for someone who loves fashion to be there at the start of a trend, at the most important shows of the season, is such a buzz.
So now I'm back and it's all a slightly unreal distant memory.
Autumn soundtrack: Kings of Leon, Come Around Sundown.
Autumn reading: The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammet and The Distant Hours by Kate Morton.
First image Tim Walker. All others taken by me.