Three Guardian journalists reveal how they dress for the catwalk shows
My fashion show wardrobe is all about dresses. Dresses are, to me, one of the great advantages of being born a woman, since men don’t have the option of an all-in-one outfit. What’s more, wearing a dress is sartorial shorthand for Making An Effort, understood clearly the world over, in classrooms, in courtrooms, in clubs and at Chanel fashion shows.
It is a look that lasts all day: a plain dress and a pair of heels is simple enough for you not to feel ridiculous at the bus stop first thing, but smart enough for an after-show party at the end of the day. The dress I’m wearing today is by Diane von Furstenberg, who is generally known for her wrap dresses, but makes brilliant tailored dresses, too: not too fussy or frou-frou. There is an alternative approach to front-row dressing.
Some of my colleagues are wonderful walking collages of clothes: skating skirts hemmed to this week’s perfect length, the most on-trend crazy platform sandals, quirky tights, delicate chiffon vintage blouse, an H&M jacket that looks like YSL, pearls found in a junk shop and cleverly restrung on VV Rouleaux ribbon. I have the utmost respect for their efforts, but frankly, I’d rather have breakfast.
More important even than my need for toast and coffee, however, is the fact that I would feel disingenuous attending shows dressed like that. My job is to write about shows, and if I don’t like them, I’m honest about it. If I sat in the front row in chiffon and vintage like a fluffy fashion chick and then filed a report tearing into the show, I would feel two-faced. Wearing a dress is decisive and direct, and signals you will behave the same way.