You might have noticed, I haven't been blogging much recently. There is a valid reason, I have been reincarnated as a freelance designer, working just three days a week. I'm having my own maternity leave, without the baby! It's a liberating experience, if somewhat discombobulating. Most humans are creatures of habit, but I must be the exception to the rule, it bores me to tears. I always thought that blogs were for people who hated their jobs, but I love mine. Starting this blog was a form of escapism from the trappings of routine. A way of trying to fall in love with London again, after feeling weary of city living. Funny that I find myself craving what has gone. A lack of inspiration has descended like a fog clouding my mind. On working days I criss-cross London, underground by tube, for an hour each way. I miss the London skyline, my eyes craving fresh sights to feed my mind. The irony being, that all this free time should free me to run riot with the blog. But I've been trapped at home, stuck in a vortex of admin and networking. There is only one cure I know for creative block and that's to force yourself to get out and about. So last weekend, I raced back from Berkhire to catch the last Clerkenwell vintage fashion fair of the summer. Inspiration hunting like this is a huge perk of the job, but I have to be strict with myself. Friends always want to come with me, but I prefer flying solo for maximum concentration. Worst still to go with another handbag designer and be politely fighting over the same thing! My first scout round is purely to look at accessories, work comes first and I focus on what I need to design for the season ahead. Only after that, do I indulge myself a glance at all the beautiful clothes and jewellery. As you can imagine, it can get a little out of hand, exercise maximum restraint girls.
Fashion is a relentless animal, thriving on seasons which are light years ahead, and me, chasing my tail to meet its brutal deadlines. I've been so used to ducking in and out of this show on a tight work schedule, I had never actually stopped to gaze in awe of the Old Finsbury Town Hall. I couldn't concentrate on shopping that day. In fact, I longed to stand in the Grand Hall alone, so I could fully drink in it's spectacular art nouveau decor. Talk about detail, even the door handle is exquisite. From sweeping staircases and stained glass windows, to angel chandeliers and one a hell of an entrance canopy. This building is decadent beyond belief, lavished in decoration everywhere you look. As my mother often proclaims, in the hope that one day I will make it down the aisle; "darling, I've found the venue.........".