World well-known supermodel, writer, and money manager Crystal Rasmussen give us a brief look at what it’s truly like when you’re reserved and occupied at style week.
Welcome to my life. My journal. My reality. For the individuals who have perused my widely praised book ‘Stupefied and Confused Magazine,’ you’ll realize that I have an enthusiasm for, you got it, design. So when I was approached to go to each form show across the globe over the impending month or thereabouts, I said: what’s the expense?
It’s anything but an economy class fantastic view at each show and a flat pack of Popchips — so usually, I seized the opportunity. I needed to discover someplace to wear my obeyed Havaianas in this warmth, and where better than a fantastic fashion show?
As a guide myself (Google Marni xoxo), I’m searching for fabulousness, cost, a social heart, and a spouse this style week. So go along with me on my introduction to the fab universe of high design as I divide the gatherings, the smorgasbord tables, the behind the stage, the frow, and the substance of a Eurostar tiramisu pot. This is The Diary regarding a Fashion Girl.
SATURDAY JUNE 12
London. The home of a troublemaker. The home of fixed brands possessed by Tories. A varied blend of youthful mortgage holders and genuine calm individuals litter the roads of focal London, all urgent to get the ticket I have: Lion King: The Musical.
After a brief rest in the slows down, I understand I’m late for style week. So I take a little vehicle molded transport down to the BFC show space where I’m revealed to I’m not on the rundown. Not on the rundown? I imagined the rundown! I shouted, and upon a fast, Google, the head of PR for style, did without a doubt track down my self-composed Wikipedia, which affirmed I did indeed create the rundown. I plunged directly in, with perfect timing to observe old buddy and long-lasting back rub customer Matty Bovan win the International Woolmark Prize.
Commendation, gain Matty’s bank subtleties, and leave – with perfect timing for the uncovering of McQueen’s new assortment pictures, which I shot and featured in. They looked dazzling, and Sarah (Burton) – my dear companion – disclosed to me the assortment was tied in with recuperating, and I said “yes” even though I’ve never heard that word.
Fortunately, I was perfectly timed to make it to the Reuben Selby show, which I opened and shut. It was grand, particularly the lavender suit worn by Bimini Bon Boulash on the first column, who flipped the bird at me as I swaggered the catwalk. However, that is precisely what happens when you’re an internaçionalé supermodel, I presume.