Ah, Melbourne fashion week, where influencers, b-grade celebs and people with too much disposable income pretend that the humble little #VAMFF competes with the glamour of Paris Fashion Week. Also known as the week that I emerge from the darkness of my bedroom/office/batcave to bring you the goodies whilst surviving off a diet of black coffee, espresso martinis, and pretty much anything that involves caffeine to keep my body ticking along.
All jokes aside, VAMFF is an event on my calendar that I genuinely enjoy working at each year and this year is no different. In fact, I’m somewhat more excited for this year than ever as I’m working for myself (girl boss moment) and not a publisher. I’m honestly not particularly sure why the fashion gods bestowed a media pass not only upon me but also my friend and token French man, Guillaume, for this week. I have withered it down to two reasons.
1: The public relations agency was somehow convinced that because my business has the letters PR in it, means that I am some sort of a media relations whiz (hint, I’m not), or... 2: After seven years of covering the festival, they thought I was a part of the usual furniture and the festival wouldn’t be the same without my candid captures, long runway exposures and general spamming of social media.
Never the less, this year I have no deadlines other than the ones that I bestow upon myself, no more editing until 3am - unless I want to, of course - and I get to photograph what I want, when I want, and publish what I want. Which means that this little blog here is going to be turning into a powerhouse of fashion updates every day this week.
With that little introduction out of the way, let’s dig right in real deep and silently judge the fashionable and frumpy at this year’s Gala Runway which kicked off VAMFF last night. I was there with my camera and my sole mission was to bring you guys the best and worst of Melbourne’s fashion scene. From avant-garde to avant-gawhd-no (that was lame, I’m sorry), here’s what I saw through my lens. So grab some popcorn, put on your gross pjs with last week’s dinner stain on them, and pop on a Sephora face mask, and get ready to judge, bitch and snark. You’re welcome.