It’s fashion, dahling!

When I was younger, you’d find me buried in old Fairlady,Vogue and Marie Claire issues, poring over every detail and losing myself in beautiful images.  Fashion was an escape for me from the age of 12 to about 17. I found solace in the haughty glares of 90s supermodels and how f e a r l e s s these women were. It was the inspiration I needed during a time when I was struggling to be myself or wanted desperately to fit in.

While I’m not as obsessed with fashion as I used to be, I’ve always wanted to go to Cape Town or Jo’burg Fashion Week (New York, too – but a girl can dream).  This year, the wish came true – with an invite to the media launch of Mercedes Benz  Cape Town Fashion Week. I met some really amazing bloggers, creatives and got to chat to some of the designers (with a sneaky chat with Miss South Africa, Liezel Laurie)

Another lovely aspect of this year’s Fashion Week was the sneaky little interview segment I got to do with Bonang Matheba on MetroFm. The station had used my piece on #MBFWCT as their guide for a part of Bonang’s show.  I was totally terrified and nervous but couldn’t back down from the experience even if I tried.

So off I went and attended Day One and Day Three, while mingling around the Watershed. I happened to sit next to some entertaining media folks, who kept it constant with the sass buffet (and made me feel like I was an extra in the Devil Wears Prada of real life)

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Mainly, with the rough week I had been having, this occasion was an upbeat one – and kept my mind in a happier space. Plus the media lounge was amazing!

Never in a million years, did I think this was possible when I was younger. That one day,  I’d write about things that I loved and get to see a real life fashion show. As small town as that may seem, it was a far cry from what I was seeing when I was growing up. Fashion was an escape that kept me going when other things couldn’t. I loved the allure of beautiful fabrics and awe-inspiring editorials that jumped off the page while I paraded in my grandmother’s hand-me-downs.  All in all, it was a tick off my bucket list and that’s something I can’t really describe. I wish I could’ve told 15 year old me, that one day the thrive would oh-so-real.

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