After trying to locate a PR peep to sit or position me, I was told that I would have to stand at the back with the other standees. Now what was even funnier was that there was no one from Elle, Vogue, Glamour or any other big UK press so really it was just me, myself and I. So who are they expecting to gain press from if I am stood at the back? Once I had my orders to stand, I tried to explain that I was happy to do so as long as I got a good spot for pictures but sadly the response was not a warm one. ‘I don’t know your Magazine’ proclaimed the PR girl and disappeared off to ruin another Journalist. I eventually found a spot (on the floor) but the lighting was so bad that taking pictures wasn’t a joy as normal and it was a shame as the collection was actually rather artistic. With depths of Tribal/Military, alien princess and enough hardware to bring down airport security, the pieces were adventurous with a few elements of commercial cool. The clothing themselves were a brave declaration for S/S and the shoes would probably be unbearable for everyday but were pretty either way. Once I finished with the first horrid experience of PFW, food was in need at Cafe Ruc. As this venue was for the Ultra French Snobby Chic, it felt perfect having a few Londoners walk in to provoke some Chaos. Two hours from walking in the door, we finally ate…. I miss London already.