As the round of international fashion weeks comes to a close, I would like to take a moment to pay homage to those cities that have raised dressmaking to a fine art, piqued our interest in what we (and others) are wearing today and ignited dangerous bank-breaking passions in so many of us.
To New York I say thank-you for giving us the all-black uniform, Marc Jacobs, Barneys, Seven Easy Pieces, affordable restaurants, beautiful people, cheap cabs, an uptown and downtown Bloomingdale's, street jewellery and 90% Off sales.
Dear London, you so crazy! Only in a city where the snaggletoothed, scrawny and bow-legged are viewed as iconic beauties can girls walk around pantsless, men swathe themselves in leggings and grandmas rock pink and purple hair. Oh Londontown, your trains run late, your bars close early and yet you are ever ahead of the fashion game.
Carissima Milano. What to say to a town where you can't swing a size zero model without hitting a Prada boutique? Where ready-to-wear means so much more than finding something that fits and Sundays are reserved for parading the whole stylish family for all to see? Where clothes are an artform and style a mantra? To her I say grazie, grazie, a million times grazie!
And lastly, Paris. I bow down to the elegant lady who has graced the world with Dior, Balenciaga, Lanvin, Givenchy and of course, Chanel. With your pinched nose raised high in the air, your judgemental gaze cast decidedly downwards, you have told us that la vie en rose looks like couture and smells like No. 5. And we are still listening. Paris je t'aime.
With that, I bid you so long, farewell, arrivederci, adieu until next season.