This was the first time I'd been Berlin Fashion Week - I was nervous and excited.
I'd rented an apartment for the week in Mitte, central and good transport links. A small and compact, one-bedroom place with wifi, just near Rosenthalerplatz - perfect.
After a relatively mild period of weather, the week of Fashion Week was forecast to get fairly cold and it was looking unlikely that temperatures would get above freezing. I'd bought a new pair of snow boots in preparation and was feeling well equipped for whatever lay in store. I wasn't there to make it on to the best-dressed list, so my uniform for the week was a pair of black Acne jeans, a black Pringle polo-top, a black Nicole Fahri jacket, and my snow boots of course.
Most of the Fashion Week events were being held in a giant purpose-built marquee opposite the Brandenburg Gate.
First job was to get my accreditation sorted - as it was the first day there was a short queue, but it was a pretty efficient system. There's always that moment of tension when someone is searching for your name on a list, I was confident that my accreditation had all been approved, but what if I my name isn't on the list? How embarrassing, what would I do? I needn't have worried, I was soon clutching my media pass and a shiny silver goodie bag and making my way into the marquee.
I bustled through the enormous and busy marquee lobby and found my way to the media centre which seemed to be equally manic with journalists fighting for desk space - already everyone was hard at work uploading photos and filing reports.
Then the shows began. It was a pretty intense schedule of nearly 50 shows, with most of the designers featured utilizing the main runway space within the marquee.
It sounds oxymoronic, but covering an event like Fashion Week is hard work. Lessons I've learnt for next time:
Fashion Week. Only the strong survive.
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