It’s funny how often you can end up using the phrase ‘riot of colour’. If there is a spring fashion show, it’s going to be plastered across every review and blog post across the Internet. However, using it to describe Notting Hill would be just a simple understatement. The festival is like a warmer, happier version of a Sonia Rykiel show with dancing models. It literally feels like London has been ripped out of the ground and transported onto the spicy shores of Mexico or Brazil. Walking, slightly disorientated from the station you get hit with the smells first- the jerk chicken, smoke and ripe fruits, and then you start to hear the first buzzing of the music. Entering the area around the Portobello market, seeing Cara dashing around, searching for the parade just like everyone else and seeing the speakers piled up like Lego bricks in front of the nailed up bars is so refreshing- it’s why Notting Hill comes before Fashion Week for sure! Nothing gets rid of excess stiffness from heels better than a session of jumping up and down like a mad puppy just to see that biggest costume.
For many, this is the street version of Victoria’ Secret- the wings, glitter and jewelled bikinis are all there, and though the models might not be strutting on a catwalk, they are certainly proud of their bodies. Gok Wan would certainly have trouble finding self conscious women for his show! This is my kind of acceptance- every race and shape, baring all and enjoying every second. Celebration is something that fashion does grudgingly- worried that it will make its world sound unprofessional, shows stay stark and uncompromising. This is why shows like Vuitton S ’12 blew such a hole in the routine that even in august people were still talking about the collection and the carousel. Going to events that mean so much emotionally lets you think positive. After all, it does only come once a year, doesn’t it?
STYLION 