I could have worked it out when I got the ticket, when I checked the website for directions to Somerset House, or when I checked again that I had the tickets in my bag. But no, I didn't realise I was a week early to London Fashion Weekend (not London Fashion Week) until the train had left the station.
What to do in this instance. Well first off I had to let everyone one on Facebook and Twitter know (bound to make someone laugh!) then Googled what else I could do with a day in London. Luckily Somerset house also had an exhibition by Guy Bourdin. He seemed to have been a fashion/surrealism photographer and fan of ladies calves and shoes. There were some slightly disconcerting images of women bleeding from their nipples however there were other, really beautiful images used in Paris Vogue in the 70's and 80's.
Next I hung around watching the crazy. The courtyard to Somerset House has a real 'emperors new clothes' feel to it when London Fashion Week rolls around. People wear as much colour clashing and strange get up as they can in order to seem fashion forward and it is lapped up by the hordes of photographers looking for that striking image. The sheer number of pink haired, blue lipsticked, sunglass wearers on a pretty much completely overcast day doesn't bear counting. They can't ALL think this looks good can they?
After an hour or so watching the watchers, and those that want to be watched, I ventured off and took solace in a place I know well. Selfridges. They too have a fashion week display, except its less 'look at me' and more 'look at the style'. It's here I discover that I am quite the fan of Alaia (oh goody another highly affordable desire then!) While it's not really something I would wear, I did also enjoy the drama of the Gareth Pugh gowns along with all these...
I then headed home to workout if I can be bothered to do the whole thing all over again next week...