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”This party is like borderline boring slash f**king cool but Rex thinks it’s a total failure on account of the toilet queue babe” yapped one po-faced partygoer nonsensically into her totally DIY jewel-encrusted iPhone4 outside the Charlie Le Mindu party last night, dishwasher-warm vodka Redbull in hand.
You know you’ve passed your soul-by date when you actually bother to write-up a London Fashion Week party on a Sunday night. Not only are we here early, but we're queuing to get in and we're ever so slightly scared that we'll be turned down for looking worldly-wise.
In a London Fashion Week dominated by a work experience mafia, in which shadowy PR personalities compile guest lists composed entirely of their flatmates and their unpaid magazine intern pals, it must have been at least three years now since anyone who can actually grant editorial content actually attended an LFW after-party, let alone sat in bed at 2am typing their sad thoughts up about it.
No, real editorial quarterbacks are supposed to spend their Sunday nights watching Blue Planet in Stoke Newington. But since we interviewed Charlie Le Mindu last month, and since we think he’s the best thing to happen to fake hair since Matthew McConnaughey, we thought it was only polite to print out our invite to his LFW shindig at Blackall Studios in East London and pop along for an unquiet couple.
It was a riotous star-studded affair, with Patrick Wolf and his beautiful fiancé William down one end of the party, Roisin Murphy in an overpowering cloud of happiness and hairspray down the other. With photographers diving between peoples’ floral-print jeans we were enamoured by the feast of faux-lesbians dressed head to toe in jaw-dropping couture and the pretty swarm of unfeasibly tall fashionistas who had narrowed the look of tight-faced and tawdry boredom down to a fine art.
In short, Charlie Le Mindu’s party was the party to be seen at last night. Everywhere you looked screamed overdue rent, hot squatter or reeked of eau d’interne. Indeed, there were so many former GT interns present it may as well have been a Same Difference memorabilia auction.
We were definitely the most avant-garde there, with our fashion-forward blend of dystopic eye-bags, high street attire and the frumpy demure of full-time employment. One fashionista who we dubbed as Charlie Le Min-who? 3 wore a dress that could only be described as a Charlie Le Bin-bag, although one of the many Topshop stylists who were at hand suggested Charlie Le Vin Rougee would be a better caption.
Must-have accessories on the night included the LFW Mac goodie bag, any paraphernalia that connoted a Sunday afternoon wasted, clothes that incorporated spikes, and of course self-published business cards. WE think this season is going to be all about the spiky psyche, which goes as far as super-gluing a giant spike to your forehead but stops short of spiking a blogger’s drink.
Electroclash legend Larry Tee played his records, letting a genius playlist loose in the basement that mixed minimalist remixes of Minty back-to-back with 70s chart-toppers like Sweet’s Ballroom Blitz. When Britney Spears came on nobody had told GT that you were meant to evacuate the dancefloor with all the grace of a bomb scare and so we perhaps looked a bit foolish skipping around on our own down the front doing a dance routine that we like to call “GT Against The Music: It’s just me..… and me”. Don’t hold it against us.
The Toni & Guy highlight of the evening was seeing two girls dressed as collapsible ironing boards walk between a quartet of boys who looked like lifesize toblerones in trillbies, and consequently getting haphazardly pooled together by a faux-pervert-chic scene photographer with a giant 80s video camera, resulting in what has to be the most unimpressed and gaunt collection of bodies to have stood before a camera since Luke Worrall’s sweet 16th.
Larry Tee eventually left the decks to dance, and was replaced by what looked like a living tribute to Hermione Badderley, who bashed out a welcomed bit of Babooshka by Kate Bush, leading one unsuspecting gent to whip out some poppers.
Here is a list of some brilliant part-time bloggers and unintentional celebrity tribute acts that GT spotted out in East London last night:
Charlie Le Vindaloo
Lily Alan (fell over spectacularly against the DJ booth getting her tutu inexplicably stuck to a non-existent skirting board)
Charlie Le Zulu
Kanye Bush (follows 2 people on Twitter)
Charlie Le Pingu
Blogwarts (10th in line to the Bryan Boy throne)
Someone who looked like Daniel Beddingfield