London Fashion Week was just the other day, or so it felt. I've always been in two minds about the fame and the famous around these shows. It's like a different type of Hollywood. People asked me if I'd go this year, or if I'd go any other year, or even at all. My answer is twofold. Somehow I feel as though you have to be very invested in fashion to attend these kind of things, which I am not. I invest in my appearance, of course. I like making myself look good, smell good and feel good. I love clothes, I find irrational excitement in clothes. The fabrics and textures, the colours and construction. However, my ability (or so I think) to pair some trousers with a top does not make me a fashionista. I cannot say I love fashion, instead it is the produce of fashion that I adore, the end result, not the process. To say that I have a love for fashion because I like clothes is like saying I have a love for Graphic Design because I love pamphlets. It's only a small fraction of the subject. You can't study Design (or any subject for that matter) without thoroughly enjoying the process too. I definitely used to be like Andrea Sachs of the Devil Wears Prada (which definitely altered my view on fashion!). Naive and disrespectful of the art that is Fashion. Now I vaguely know what fashion entails and I know that that is not my world, not my part of the office and it's an area that I will watch at a distance. Now London Design Week, see, that's where I itch to be every single year. I'll put on my finest camel coat and patterned trousers for that. Suited and booted with my Moleskine in one hand and my fineliners in the other.