Alas, I pulled up at not-so-sunny St. Pancras armed with an obscene amount of digital content to be uploaded and full of that feeling …the fashion week blues.
So what better way to reconcile life-after-fashion-week than to ignore that bit completely and make like we’re (I’m) still in a Jardin, joyfully unaware of the inbox awaiting our (my) return.
I’m winding it back to the weekend, when I whipped up a cobalt storm in this asymmetric two-piece I plucked from New York outpost Elie Tahari.
Tahari’s a newcomer to my closet (apparently not to the rest of ‘merica I’m informed) and one who’s realistic price-point still stands a good chance of unsettling my wallet, damn you …Harrods concession you.
And last visit after tearing myself away from the umpteenth layer of suede (‘cept for a chicory hued statement just TOO good to miss), and pouring over endless exquisite knits, I settled for this knee-length, weighty, waist-syncher and stayed Royal with a matching sheer blouse.
I tackled my way through the
fashion-week assault course Jardin du Tuileries in a vertiginous pair of python heels, the finest example I could find.
And arrived back with just enough time to dust down the threads and do it all over again.
blouse & skirt ELIE TAHARI,
shoes RUPERT SANDERSON,