GLAMOUR 2

Week two at Glamour considerably outshone week one. With a full shooting schedule back on after the fashion week dust finally settled, the cupboard transformed from semi-methodical, quasi-organized sartorial garage to a bigger, (much much) better version of my own closet. Which means exploding and the need for scuba gear. Do you remember the scene in the Titanic when the ship starts to go and one solitary rivet caving under the pressure ushers in the uninhibited bounds of the Atlantic, sending the ship to its doom? Well, it was kind of like that-- ready to blow at any moment, except the straw that would have broken the camel's back was more of enormous black organza Ferretti cupcake than iceberg.

Aside from the vast improvement in the cupboard's contents, along with it came a slew of swishier tasks...including helping out on a D&G photoshoot and squeezing myself into a crinoline cum origami windsock Westwood number, which, when hanging on the rail and compared to the runway snapshot, made absolutely no sense. So the fashion assistant stuffed me into it to figure out how exactly it worked...couldn't show up to the shoot in NYC without a clue as to how the Westwood monstrosity worked. Afterall, they were to shoot one of my fav celebs du jour for the July cover. As for who she is, that's one secret I'll never tell.

xoxo

Sabina's fashion apple. That photo was spontaneous, I swear. This is what happens when you live, breathe (and eat) fashion all day long.

Piles of returns. Doesn't it look like such fun?

A-mazing boots.

Doing some research up at Vogue House

Polly want a Swarovski encrusted court shoe?

L is for the way you Louboutin at me...

All good things must come to an end. Say goodbye to them Sabina, I know it breaks your heart...We've all been there. I nearly burst into tears when I sealed those LV Spicy African FACE MASK sandals in their return bag. Why is life so unfair?

On the threshold of the mystical, magical shoe-room of Sergio Rossi.

Studio, bright and early. Shooting pre-fall D&G collection to make up for the fact that they didn't get so much space in the magazine's London issue. Whoever says fashion and politics don't mix has never set a pristinely manicured foot in Conde Nast.

Rachel, one of the models, enjoys a serene spiritual moment meditating in between shots. She was a cool girl, just came back from 6 months in India practicing yoga. And she smokes. Excellent.

Rocking out to Beyonce's Crazy in Love, Suzanna (girl stage right) suddenly was failed by her insoles and crashed to the ground. Bit of a scary moment. There was blood, but when isn't there in this business? The Dolce show must go on!

The Clothes Whisperer has left the building. Next stop: VOGUE!