LFW SS15: Day 2 Pt. 2

Holly Fulton SS15

Once the Hunter show drew to a close Bonnie and I raced to the fashion bus for a snail pace journey through the congested London streets to Holly Fulton at Somerset House. We arrived just in time for me to slide into my front row seat (casually dropping that in) before the first model hit the catwalk…

Holly Fulton SS15

The show opened with a series of slickly tailored monochrome looks with pops of yellow and 3D floral embellishment, setting the tone for one of Holly’s most polished collections to date. It was indeed a rather more grown up affair than previous seasons but while elegant shift dresses and high waisted slacks exuded sophistication but there was definitely still plenty of the Fulton flair for fun that have won her such loyal devotees. Graphic patterns constructed from PVC squares in highlighter hues were both sleek and a little tongue in cheek Floral pattern perforated PVC reminded me of the yellow dress I obsessed over on that Doha trip all those years ago. After spending a few looks trying to decipher Holly’s intricately constructed patterns I consulted the show notes and learnt that they were based on folkloric magic underpinned by the precision of modernism, an unlikely but powerful combination. There wasn’t one look I wouldn’t absolutely love to wear and I felt it one of the best Holly Fulton collections I’d seen in seasons. The work that goes into each piece is clearly extraordinary but nothing felt overdone. In fact, SS15 saw a pared back and more grown up offering from Holly. Still enough playful and statement touches to keep Fulton fantastics happy but these were slicker, more wearable pieces that could really, wonderfully work for life, not just the red carpet.

Thankfully I had a bit of a gap before my next engagement so I took a much, much needed Starbucks time out to write show reviews, catch up on my emails and of course fanny about on instagram, my favourite time passing pastime. Then of course I suddenly realised that I was actually running rather late and frantically dashed up to St Martins Lane to meet Naomi and leap into our waiting taxi (big thanks to The Apartment) to head East for the Joseph show. We found ourselves in an incredible industrial venue in Farringdon, all exposed bricks and pipes and general semi dilapidated coolness. An utterly perfect setting for this collection. Joseph’s theme for SS15 was “geisha meets gally”, a fusion of sportswear and Japanese minimalism that had cropped up more than once in New York and is evidently a key trend for SS15. On this occasion, it was realised by way of khaki silks with iridescent shade in light that insinuated notions of utility but sure as hell wouldn’t be going anywhere near the DIY department. Creative Director Louise Trotter offered up origami folds and oversized sized shirts worn as dresses with hoods, toggles and elasticated style neck detailing making a deft nod to athleticism. Joseph’s was the hautest of sportswear realised in buttersoft putty leathers and razor sharp cuts and even the jersey pieces were sculpturally cut and had understated luxury written all over them. Not literally of course, that would be sacrilege to a brand that’s carefully honing its aesthetic as one of directional minimalism.

Joseph SS15

There was a lot of reworking sports staples which is hardly new but Joseph did it so immaculately in a way that felt effortless and natural rather than contrived as is so often the case. Mesh looks recalling tennis courts almost went there but we’re saved by their optical intrigue and deconstructed silhouettes. Strict palette of khaki, indigo denim and monochrome, it was all very precise, very pared back and utterly perfectly constructed. As for the wedge flatform sandals, I spy a cult hit right there. As you’ve probably gathered, impressive though Joseph’s SS15 collection was, there wasn’t a great deal for me there. That is, until the ice white broderie came out and then I fell really hard.

Whistles SS15

Faced with the inevitable nightmare of having three must attend shows taking place at different venues within the same 90 minutes, Naomi and I raced for the doors, grabbed the nearest cab and sped towards King’s Cross for Whistles. I’m not going to repeat what I say EVERY DAMN SEASON about Whistles‘ meteoric rise from slightly mumsie high street shop to fashion insider’s most coveted brand, harbinger of contemporary cool and hot ticket on the London Fashion Week schedule but, well, I kind of just did anyway. As someone who’s loved the label forever it warmed my cockles to see editors from all over the world practically banging the door down to get to their presentation. And of course, Jane Shepardson did not disappoint. First and foremost, she served champagne. Always a delight after a day involving so many shows we’d lost count. Secondly, the soundtrack. A RnB mash up that got me dancing and trying to persuade Naomi that we needed to go out and do more of that later. Last but oh so far from least, the clothes. There are a few designers who almost convince me pare things back every season and Shepardson is one of them. The elegant, monochrome confections that strode out were flawlessly executed. There was laser cut leather, immaculate drapery, cheeky fringing and peek-a-boo cut outs all in a restrained palette that whispered, as opposed to shouted, “look at me”. Fringing and texture was a major feature of the collection with raffia frays paired with slinky silks, viscose injected linen and elliptical broderie anglaise. My favourite looks were, unsurprisingly, the dreamy palm print pieces but those stacked espadrilles weren’t far off.

House of Holland SS15

Once Whistles finished up we tore ourselves away from the show, the soundtrack and the champagne and piled into the slick Grazia Mercedes (thank you Sophie) to speed across town to the House of Holland show. Henry Holland’s designs have something of a marmite like quality about them, as in you either absolutely adore the whole thing or they make you want to run away to a far away land where glitter is illegal and everyone wears black, white and grey only. Obviously, I fall firmly into the former camp. In case our vinyl shaped invitations hadn’t given it away, this season Henry was another designer who’d drawn on a musical muse, citing “groupies” as his source of inspiration. Slightly ironic, given his well publicised circle of friends, but I have no idea if that was intentional. Once a bleach braided Rita Ora had taken her seat the show began and I was slightly disappointed by the first look, a strapless suede dress in navy and burgundy that struck me as a little, well, boring. But House of Holland never disappoints me and a few models later I was well and truly head over heels. It was all glitter and pattern clashing and neon galore; psychedelia 2015 style accessorised with killer heels and cheeky key rings shaped like burgers, cigarettes, lobsters and cocktails. I absolutely NEED those metallic minis in my life and all the matching and mismatching everything was a sartorial dream come to life. Admittedly the show could have been slightly more edited but when there’s that much colour and embellishment coming down the catwalk, I’m not complaining!

Marchesa SS15

By this point I was starving and in dire need of a glass of Pinot Grigio so Naomi and I popped into Soho House for an hour or so before heading on to our final show of the day, Marchesa. “Marchesa showing in London?” I hear you ask and yes, it is unusual. But the brand started its journey in Soho so decided it was fitting to mark 10 years dressing the rich, fabulous and fashionable by staging their catwalk show in the regal surroundings of Banqueting Hall on Whitehall, both fitting and pretty exciting for us Brits. I was delighted and, not going to lie, pretty surprised to learn I’d been given a front row seat which afforded me a close up view of an exquisitely detailed and ethereally dreamy collection. “Dreamy” may not be the most imaginative way to describe the labour intensive, intricate creations that sashayed down the catwalk on the frames of flowing haired goddesses lead by Georgia May Jagger, but I can’t think of a better one to be honest. It was the stuff of fantasy, embroidery and tulle galore. They lost me a bit with the shirting but soon moved back to the dreamy, frothy flower child confections that every little girl, and big girl for that matter, would kill to own. By this point my limbs were aching and the jet lag I foolishly thought I’d avoided was setting in. So after a little food and drink at The Electric with friends it was homeward bound to bury my blistered feet into a snuggly pair of UGG boots, make a half hearted attempt to do some work and then off to bed.

Love Ella. X