What happens when you put some bloggers, a smattering of media darlings, a couple of gender-bending fashionistas and numerous coolhunters into a West End store disguised as a concept nightclub?
Luxury Italian fashion house Dolce and Gabbana, recently invited five bloggers to create bespoke windows in their store, with the best one being chosen by bloggers and dedicated fashion followers.
To celebrate this feat, they flung open their doors of their stylish Old Bond Street store and invited people to join the fun. And thanks to my connections with Team Individualism, yours truly found himself on the guest list.
It was like delving into the society pages of a glossy magazine. OK, maybe not Tatler, but you get my drift.
After navigating through a scrum of paparazzos, flashbulbs began to pop when a black car pulled up (Addison Lee!) and out stepped a perfectly coiffed X Factor winner.
Inside, it was like a really weird corporate rave; expensive garms lined the perimeter of the dance floor whilst student waiters handed out cocktails and savoury snacks. Shop assistants grimaced in their role as nightclub stewards as baying mobs surrounded the makeshift bar, unashamedly snatching free drinks.
It was a really diverse crowd; Chelsea girls rubbed shoulders with Brixton boys but the pretentiousness seemed to linger like the smoke in a working mans pub. But it was the F-word which really bought everyone to this pocket of W1. That being fashion. With a capital F.
Being conservatively dressed, I felt a touch 0ut of place. London’s underground cool hunters were on a mission to be seen, one hem line at a time. Coloured weaves, gravity-defying creations, towering platforms, billowing contraptions and eye-catching custom-made clothes were the order of the day.
Standing close to the exit, I spied numerous ‘famous’ faces; the offspring of a well-known personality; an ageing actor who looked pleased as punch to have scored an invite; a (talented) former girl band member; a well-known business woman from London’s arts/fashion scene, and two offspring of a famous British singer, whose claim to fame is that they are the offspring of a famous British singer.
It didn’t feel like a party; it felt like attending the party of a friend-of-a-friend; you kind of know them, your friend is going along and has invited you to tag along, so you attend, out of courtesy, acknowledging that it’s a cheap night out, but have to stay close to your friend as you don’t know anyone there.
Ha, it was fun. The DJ threw down some serious choons and everyone was brucking out. Even the ‘celebs’. Though some were enjoying it a bit too much. There was enough hip-shaking and X-rated gyrating that it verged on embarrassing.
But thankfully – after downing a few cheeky drinks – I refrained throwing any shapes. No, I left that to the cool kids.
♫ Nicki Minaj Feat. Sean Garrett – ‘Massive Attack’