O.K. Let's get something clear. I've never been invited to a PPQ show. Wrong. I received a ticket last season but was literally left out in the February cold as the show was over-subscribed. Such is the draw of desginers Amy Molyneaux and Percy Parker. Celebs love 'em and if you want to shoot fish in the proverbial barrel, you better hope for a gilded invite. This season hope proved not to be a medicine for the miserable, as not only did I get a ticket, I scored second row...and a super goody bag! All was looking well in the world. I cooed to my friend Jessie 'I'm so happy to be here!' I felt counted and dare I say a bit spesh. After all, Brigitte Nielson was being papped beside me, Jodie Harsh in front of me and Little Boots in my peripheral vision. Once the plastic was peeled off the catwalks however, things took a turn for the worse. Maybe I missed the memo, the point, the gist. Maybe I'm not hip. Actually, I'm not hip but hey, that's another blog post. Anyhow, the clothes left me decidely underwhelmed. I felt so crestfallen afterwards, I ditched the after party and went back to the bosom of my hotel room where I was greeted with a flask of lavender tea and choc-dipped strawberries in my room (note: I HEART the Marylebone Hotel!!!). Any redeeming elements of the show? The fez hats were fun. Sorry folks, that's all I've got...
