The A-Train

Remember that party I went to a few months ago, and the lady who was carried out by her dad before apparently puking on her shoes? And how I had to spend 45 seconds of my life reassuring her that voluntarily writing "me love you long time" on a post-it wasn't racist?

She's now writing for the Huffington Post. About Rwanda.

It reads mostly like an STA blog or Flickr captions and it doesn't appear to have been copy-edited (at 9:47 GMT, perhaps this will change).

Oh and I can't even finish that thought because I just tripped over this gem:

"Martin told us war stories (I proceeded to have the most dramatic and violent dreams!) and he played us a song by Baz Luhrman around the table which I haven't heard for years and is packed with invaluable advice...it's called "Sunscreen"... look it up and listen!"

Ok.That's it. I was searching for the recent article about "winning the battle against hunger" written by Drew Barrymore to bring my whole point here home when I found that they'd reposted her Bazaar story titled "Obama Made Me Cry".

So thank you Huffington Post. We had a good run. And then your content became indistinguishable from Teen Vogue, and you made my own written internet-reaction disjointed and extemporaneous. I'm going to say something that, frankly, I never thought I'd think, let alone put into writing.

I'm glad you're not called the Arianna Post.

GLAD.

London Fashion Week pt 2

I gotta make this quick because I've got a phone date with Vivienne Westwood (the store not the human, if all goes well I'll get into it later) but here is FASHION WEEK PART 2...

London Fashion Week pt 1

I want to go to there.

This is part 1 of the entire story of my Fashion Week. This is word for word what I wrote to my parents in an email; I am too lazy and too without-my-glasses to change any part of it. So there will be lots of "IN LONDON THERE IS A PLACE CALLED WHISKEY MIST" and "MOM THIS IS WHAT PR IS" but try to wade through all that. It also will not be written well, because I read somewhere that mothers love you regardless of poor stylistic choices. Most of the pics are mine. Let me just run through the cast of characters:

George -- the loveliest guy in the world, recruited me to Rubbish out of the blue, has a fraternal twin, dresses well enough to get papped like Lilo.

Kila -- blog editor, brilliant illustrator, "posh rave" coordinator, red carpet presenter for Peaches' mag, executive chief of having fingers in many pies and succeeding wildly.

Catherine -- Whitney from the Hills, in appearance and professional experience, except better in all regards. At any given show/function I was at, she had informed me who the designer was, why they were important, why I was going, if the runs in my stockings were unbearable. She also kept me company and may very well be one of the most stylish people I know. Cute as a button.  

Jenny Dyson -- I don't think I had fully appreciated how influential this woman was until I realised that merely saying that I was representing her for fifteen minutes got me treated like effing royalty. She is absolutely amazing, influential and commanding, without being in any way pretentious or off-putting. I hope one day I can call her a mentor.

Ok that's it. Here we go.

Highlights and lowlights (?) from Sienna Miller's Whiskey Mist shindig last night

+ Free bellinis. Yum yum.
+ Seeing the innocent snuggle between on-screen Skins' Nicholas Hoult and Kaya Scodelario. Too sweet.
+ The bongos. Maybe you had to be there.
+ That muskrat fur hat belonging to that one model whose name I can never remember floating around a bit like a beach ball.
+ Claire.

- The guards at the the VIP. We're not trying to storm your citadel, terrifying Viking woman. And as soon as I drop a certain name you're more like soft loving Valkyrie bride.
- The sort of bizarre location of Whiskey Mist. If it werent for the paps and cops (uh oh) we would have been lost for agessss.
- Sienna being scarce. I suppose, it's your party and you can cry if you et cetera...
- The free bellinis. I only recovered at the Louise Goldin show, and then immediately hit more free champagne. Puking on the models is probably a faux pas.

Again, there will be more after Weds. Alexa Chung has a cold sore. Boo. The end.

Update on LFW

This has been the most surreal week of my life. And it hasn't even been a week.

Rubbish is wonderful.

I have seen the following shows:

Eun Jeong.

Ashish.

Qasimi.

Hannah Marshall (kind of -- long story).

Eley Kishimoto.

Jaeger tonight.

In the room adjacent to the office I'm in in the Mayfair Hotel are Erin O'Connor and Carmen dell'Orefice (the first supermodel. Ever).

I saw Lily Cole. She is inhuman. She is literally, physically stunning, like a taser.

This is all an explanation for where I've been. Expect a full rundown soon. Probably after Weds. For the time being keep watching the RUBBISH blog, I'm Fun On The Run(Way).

FASHION WEEK

This is maddness. I am in a room full of beautiful interns, about to run out to 6 shows.

Watch for me at www.rubbishmag.com/blog, I'm Fun on the Run(Way)