DIAMANTS au chocolat @ PFW

Let's fly to Paris together. Let's do something crazy for once and book our flights on a hot sunny day. Let's be as spontaneous as the famous streets of an elegant city. Spending hard earned cash on gourmet dishes and the most extravagant pieces of clothing. I want to pretend to be Parisian even just for one day. I want to wear red lipstick and slick back my hair, catching the attention of all who dared to admire. Ah, the adrenaline rush that comes with Paris fashion week. It's 8.24pm and I should be attending graceful events hosted by Armani and Mulberry. It's 8.24pm and I'm dreaming of my version of paradise.

Fashion week: a bundle of successful people coming together to celebrate their accomplishments whilst looking impeccably chic. 

I can smell the confidence in the air, a similar smell to Saint Laurent's classic Opium- overwhelmingly seductive. Fashion week is proof that nothing is impossible and dreams do come true. When the models galavant down the runways representing illustrations that have now come to life, as the designers and creative directors take their final bows, dying of anxiety yet blushing with pride, you begin to wonder what that feeling of self actualisation feels like; what it feels like to be at the top. 

Then there are the fashion hopefuls waiting outside of shows for our idols and role models. The paparazzi gifting you with your 5 seconds of fame and for a nano second you feel like you are a part of something. Pinch yourself and ask if it's all real. If it's not, then come to the realisation that it could be you, it will be you.  Your victory is waiting on the other side of that door called hard work. 

When I go to Paris fashion week, I hope to not only analyse the whirl of perfect imagery or the expensive clothes but to focus on the people behind them. The people who make sure their dreams are valid.

I often get excited by the little things, always the little things.