I'm so behind I don't have time to write individual thoughts about London Fashion Week, so instead I will compose a prose poem about it. Be warned, I'm an awful writer. Here goes nothing.
Kristopher Kane sheer and noisy no more neon colors I guess. So intricate with lace and prints blurring by Erdem. Not so much for Louise Goldin, it was more like space eskimos from the queen of sweater dressing. Luella kept it young and quirky with her witches dressed in checker prints and knitted hats. And then there was Marios Schwab, who drew long lines and cut out holes to textures that oozed out from underneath dresses like snakes. Neon insanity reigned at House of Holland with plaid antlers on Agyness and...a plaid eye patch?
Ok, scratch that. That wasn't a prose poem, it was just a bunch of words.
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