Sunday. Day of worship at the Church Of Chic, as our pilgrimage reaches the halfway point of LFW. Your Fashion Priest awoke with a song in his heart (possibly thanks to the choirboys singing outside my window) and church bells ringing in
his head (possibly thanks to the previous evening's Vesper Martinis). Last night's highlight was House Of Holland: pap-demonium on the frow and on the runway, irreverent prints, sparkling brocade and embellished beanies. Henry really Hoovers up the ideas. After breaking a carb-free fast, it was back in the black confessional booth that laymen call a "cab" to the shows. Onward, Christian style soldiers...
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