Welcome to the
glamorous devastatingly glamorous world of fashion. Where girls eschew 9-5 jobs in favour of high-paying, fantastically sophisticated careers doing… well, we don’t really know what exactly. What we do know is that they’re insanely busy, darling, and they simply can’t survive without six soy lattes per day, or the genius colourist that ‘transformed their hair’.
From start to finish, here lies a day in the life of the allusive fashion girl…
5.30am. Rises. 6 is just too much of a lie-in these days. A troubled night’s sleep – concerned about the current economic climate and what she’s wearing to the Roksanda show at Fashion Week.
8.30am. Post-workout, showered and ready to face the day. Applies minimal-look makeup comprising of primer, foundation, concealer, setting-powder, bronzer, highlight. Low-key on the eyes = fresh. Slips into brown Gucci loafers (she thinks black would be being a sheep), complicated-sleeved knitwear and strategically ripped denim.
9am. Farmer’s market. Buys the Financial Times for in-between-meeting reading and to put her nighttime worries to bed. Orders organic coffee, buys fresh flowers (only those that come wrapped in brown paper).
9.30am. Taps away on her iPhone Plus encased in an initialed marble cover. Very important stuff. Scrolls through Instagram at rapid pace. Late for meeting.
10am. Quick outfit change before meeting. Wearing ironic oversized glasses, boyfriend blazer, trumpet-hemmed trousers. Carrying a large, business-type Fendi; chewing-gum, old train ticket and portable charger inside. Heads to latest ‘it’ restaurant for meeting with *insert up-and-coming Scandi brand*.
4pm. Triumphant after successful day of meetings, she treats herself at high-end salon for a deep conditioning treatment (second this week, she deserves it after all her hard work). Small, indescribable dog in tow. Chihuahua? Shih-Poo? Jujutsu?Range Rover in valet service.
7.30pm. Dinner booked at Harvey Nic’s 4th floor with PR best friends. Pre-dinner peruse around the handbags. Distracted, looses track of time. Explains to companions that she’s late because work’s been so hectic today, she’s not stopped (neglects to tell them that she’s also been debating a Givenchy cross-body for the past thirty minutes). At dinner she discusses politics and authors she’s reading (Nabokov and Fitzgerald – Zelda, not F. Scott). Never fashion. She is fashion, she doesn’t need to talk about it.
10pm. Three slimline G&Ts later she Ubers home. Plucks Abyssinian pet cat off Ralph bed throw. Bed time and the alarm is set for another early rise…
…Damn, she never did get round to reading that newspaper.
What I’m Wearing
Coat, Trousers and Blouse | Zara, old (similar linked below)
Boots | Zara, here
Accessories | Topshop earrings, Céline Sunglasses, Gucci bag (similar versions linked below)