I went. I saw. I conquered. Or my what I thought of LFW street style

Recently I've started interning for Fashion Prive, an online platform aiming to build a bridge between exciting new designers and Independent boutique and fashion lovers from across the world. Thanks to my cool new job as a content writer I got to go to London Fashion Week and interview some truly amazing designers. Today I will start sharing the articles and interviews I write for the FP blog with you. To kick it off I chose to publish my thoughts on LFW, or the parade outside the gate.

The word I’m looking for is captivated, fascinated and even mesmerized and not only by the new collections I discovered walking around the halls, accessible exclusively to professionals, but also by what was happening outside the doors and beyond the security guards. Somerset House’s courtyard was buzzing with people, or should I use Suzy Menkes’ terminology and refer to them as peacocks, who came to strut around, pose and essentially show off their most fashionable outfits. Weird is maybe a more appropriate word for the parade of attention seeking, self-proclaimed fashion lovers, chasing the photographers in hopes to have their pictures taken.

Painting everyone with the same brush never captures a realistic picture. I do know that not everyone who likes to dye their hair in cotton candy colors, mix five different prints together or accessorize with a crazy-looking, animal-shaped bag is in it purely to become famous for being famous. There are those brilliant minds, with brains bigger even than their personalities, who wholeheartedly love fashion, exactly this kind of crazy, expressive, hard-to-wrap-your-mind-around-it fashion. Think of Suzie Bubble, Leandra Medine from The Man Repeller and of course the controversial Bryan Boy, whose signature style is only a compliment to their astonishing work in the industry everyone wants to be a part of.

Looking at dazzling color combinations, neon hairs, girls trying to look like boys and boys trying to look like girls, no matter what their motives were, I started wondering when did fashionable become equal to weird. Not that I have anything against a man in a gorgeous red coat or a lady wearing all the rainbow colors at once, not at all. I am all for wearing whatever makes you happy. I only wish that an elegant structured coat, worn gracefully by a beautiful woman would attract as much attention and appreciation as the sky-high neon heels chosen by the most amazing drag queen I’ve ever seen.

I'm not implying that there weren't any gorgeous looking, disarmingly stylish and fashionable people. You could spot them among the crowd, inspiring with their outfit choices and with their indifference to the photographers. No, not indifference. Of course everyone’s flattered when a flock of street style chroniclers surrounds them with their flashing lights, but those people, the once that really were there for the love of fashion weren’t seeking that attention, and unfortunately in most cases they weren’t getting it.

And as much as I agree that fashion belongs to the people, it belongs to the streets where it’s reinvented and manifested every day, I still don’t understand when did the border between fashionable and openly weird become so blurred, when looking polished went out of style to be replaced by looking crazy?