RAFW, from a front rower who isn't a blogger, stylist, or editor.

So. Here I am.
First ever blog post.
I suddenly feel really self conscious. Writing into the internet abyss not knowing who I'm talking to.
I decided to create a blog after meeting so many career 'bloggers' at RAFW recently. I wouldn't normally find myself at such an event, my fashion experience extends to Australia's Next Top Model, but apparently it pays to know the right people. I work in theatre, but who would have thought the two worlds would collide so perfectly? Anyway, I happened to find myself front row at 10 shows over the course of 2 days. I had an absolute ball and I'm officially hooked. And swimming, quite literally, in Moroccan Oil, Redken hair products and Napoleon make-up. Which feels like all your Christmases have come at once when you're as poor as I am right now. I nearly died when some other front rowers sighed and left their untouched goody bags behind... I think I'm still in the student mentality of "free shit, quick!!" haha.. which definitely would have ruined any pretence I may have had of being some kind of fashion royalty.

I think, unlike the fashionistas seated around me, I struggled to view RAFW from anything other than a theatrical perspective, rather than an exclusive preview of fashion to come. I was swept up in the magic of the costumes, the lights and the scenery, each model a performer rather than a clothes horse. But let me tell you, I have never had so many issues picking out what to wear to such an event. I like to think of my fashion sense as a bit hippy and bohemian... I love wearing stuff that not many people would have the confidence to pull off, but my god, going to an event where what you wear speaks for who you are was truly terrifying. Well, perhaps more in my own mind than anything else. After seeing the bizaare range of personal style and realising that confidence, as always, was the best accessory, I breathed a small sigh of relief. I didn't stick out like a sore thumb after all. And I met some lovely people, especially the wonderfully friendly Rebecca from Chinese Harper's Bizaare who sat next to me in Ms Couture.

However, it got me thinking that although I loved dressing the part and feeling ever so slightly superior as I was lead down the runway to my front row possie as the general admissioners gawked on, I don't think I have what it takes to survive this industry full time. As a girl whose version of hair styling is letting it dry after a shower, avoids wearing make-up where possible and wears hippy pants, huge jumpers and ugg boots virtually everywhere, I'm not sure I have the stamina for fashion. I spent my couple of days at RAFW constantly fiddling with my hair and make up, checking my reflection in every window, making sure I was holding my handbag in the fashionable way, posture always ready for a blogger's photographic snap... I went home completely exhausted! And all I really did for 24 hours was watch other people walk up and down in a straight line.... but I awoke to the reality (and post fashion week blues) that life goes on, whether or not I can afford those new wedge heels or that vintage trench coat. *Sigh*, but wouldn't it be nice...

I apologise, my internet retardedness means I can't turn this up the right way....