During London Fashion Week, “#LFW” was everywhere – even in the reflections of people’s eyes and written in powdered chocolate on my cappuccino! And it’s no wonder. The event was truly a production in itself, bringing even the slightest of fashion enthusiasts out of the woodwork in their most fashionable outfits to the courtyard of the Somerset House where the majority of the shows were hosted. Upcoming designers wowed us all, while the established ones only continued to present works of art. From the coffee, to the food, to the clothes, shoes, and general excitement in the air, these are some of my favourite captures from London Fashion Week AW 2014 – enjoy!
It was exactly the kind of day in Florence that I had hoped for. Though still early and dewy, the sun had that kind of powerful and undisturbed warmth that holds so much promise. I began to walk, smiling at the ache in my feet, which I must have been too distracted to notice as I toured Milan the day before. I made my way into the center, and after devouring an entire pizza for the nutrients I knew I would need for the day (or so I convinced myself) I had a brilliant idea. Today I will see Florence by bike. I shivered with my first strides on the bike, wearing only the thin vintage coat I’d purchased the day before in Milan, which was marked obscurely with Made in Italy and was made of the softest fabric that rendered my instant adoration. A light pink scarf that hung from a vendor’s stand in the street was an answered prayer, its soft cashmere making up for my thin outerwear. Once warm, I found peace on this bike. Unlike London, I didn’t ever fear a fatal collision with a car was in my near future, so I rode on with ease, up and down the river, through parts of the city I hadn’t seen yet, over the Ponte Vecchio Bridge and around lovely gardens and parks. I found myself by chance at the bottom of the Piazzale Michelangelo, a beautiful square that’s set atop a giant hill, offering the best panoramic view of Florence. I was tired but I climbed up anyways, stopping at the various landing points to snap some timed photos of myself without too much embarrassment. (I’m a huge fan of travelling solo, as you may have noticed, but getting photos – with yourself in them – sadly isn’t one of the benefits). As I reached the four-hour deadline of my pre-paid bike rental, I was just minutes from the shop. I propped my bike up against the side of the building, and pushed on the handle. The door was locked. Through the glass I could see that the shop was empty. I stood aimlessly for a few moments, wondering if bike rental returns were handled differently in this country. Should I just leave it here on the stoop? I thought to myself. I decided against it, fearing my recorded credit card number would be compromised, and…
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