Jiayan flew all the way from China for this. Arriving at the graffiti tunnel where the show, Natasha Zinko AW26, was taking place, I watched her stand in awe of the vibrations bouncing around in the technicolour semi-circle we were suddenly in. The days prior had been spent dipping between agency meetings and castings, hoping to bag a catwalk. She’d walked for Patrick McDowell earlier in the day so arrived in the full swing of a fresh show day. I was along for the ride to document her every move in pursuit of the ever-coveted social media content (I, for full discretion, work as the social media coordinator at J’adore, one of London’s biggest modelling agencies). That, and to make use of the complimentary catering.
Once armed with a wristband, we walked through the concrete flooring and under the brick ceilings that would become the runway, until we reached the swarm of stylists, makeup artists, hair stylists, and spice girls all working in tandem to create the show. Entering to panicked screams of “We lost wifi for two minutes – that’s like losing air!”, the tone for the evening was set. Jiayan and I managed to sit down for a few minutes to eat before she was rushed off to fit her shoes ahead of rehearsal.
I was left sat on a sofa, frantically typing names of the team into an Instagram caption box, balancing my personal phone on one knee, and my work phone on the other. There’s nothing quite like the glitz and glam of social media logistics.
Resting on my thrifted jeans, the phones kept tapping into each other, trying to Airdrop sweet nothings. As someone who is often wielding at least two phones, this is a serious hindrance. Plus, it interrupts my posting time which is, in turn, cannibalising my content-making time. Working in social media reminds me of all those years I spent working in cafes, constantly balancing plates and praying I don’t drop them. Except these days I have to spin them too.
My hospitality reminiscences were disrupted by the models lining up around me in various states of readiness. A smorgasbord of show-ready mugs, bare faces and avant-garde hair juxtaposed with tracksuit sets they’d worn from home. Even in this state, you could see the ensemble coming together. A few instructions were shouted to them, directions on their walks and the ‘family photo’ at the end of the show, then they were sent off behind the navy curtains. As they waited, I filmed Jiayan in the queue, still made up from her last show and wearing her own grey jumper, but now having stepped into pointed plastic bag-esque Natasha Zinko shoes.
My own beat-up Dr Martens, low-rise jeans and black three-quarter sleeve polo top felt almost at place here. I hadn’t woken up planning to find myself like this, and neither had Jiayan. Models’ shows are confirmed at the very last minute, so in following Jiayan around today I’d found myself at my first-ever London Fashion Week show (a long-term dream of mine) in an outfit I’d put together for a routine day in the office. But the inadequacy I’d anticipated never came. Natasha Zinko’s garments felt very raw, like these models too could’ve been pulled out of their everyday lives and planted here. Surrounded by these ensembles, I felt weirdly at home.
While they walked, I ran around taking photos of abandoned hair brushes, strewn-across-tables accessories and rolls of tape with the brand’s name on them. Stylists took mini-breaks and make-up artists sat down for a few moments before the final stretch of the pre-show pandemonium began. At the J’adore Models London Office, we’d been in full pre-show mode since Monday so I was well adjusted to the commotion of London Fashion Week, and therefore devoured the moment of solace, tinged though it was with what was to come.
The models returned, “Hair and Makeup, work together, the show must go!” was shouted as the one-hour left warning was issued, and I followed Jiayan through the stages of getting ready. Throughout the process of having her makeup undone and redone, and having a hairpiece applied and then reapplied four times, she remained calm with the knowledge that the show indeed must go, and therefore would. As I took BTS videos, I became accustomed to the hum of people working together, backlit by the trains rumbling across the tracks above our heads. It was a chorus of creatives, all singing from the same hymn sheet.
Me? I felt like I’d missed all of the steps, constantly stepping out of the way and ducking underneath arms and around cameras so as to not get in the way of the slick conveyor belt that would get these models on the runway. I have truly never felt more in the way in my life, but it was enlivening to find little corners where I could get the best shots within all the chaos.
In the final stages, I ushered Jiayan over to the wardrobe where she surrendered to being dressed by five different people, swamped by photographers and phones like mine, whilst having tags cut out and resewn into her outfit. The silk floral blouse tucked into lace underwear, structured by shoulder pads that mirrored the pointed nature of her shoes became one when brought back to earth by the fur cube bag she held in polka-dotted gloved hands. I managed to get a few words from her into my mini microphone before she joined the procession of dog-holding, child-cradling, and audience joining models, topped with the icon that is Mel B to complete the Natasha Zinko AW26 Family Bizness show.
With that, I slipped behind the curtains and joined the audience, anticipating the full picture that was to be made from the fragments I’d witnessed. What a picture it was.