How I lived fashion week inside out – created in collaboration with Intimo

This editorial features:
Roll Neck Top, Convertible Dress and intimates all by Intimo

For one for whom sleep is impossible if one half of an earring pair has fallen behind the cabinet, many a whee hour in my life has been spent crouched in a corner with bent out clothes hanger in hand. And, perhaps an unconvincing excuse for rarely cleaning the house, the process of tidying must always start with an elaborate emptying and rearranging of every nook and cranny. For, the mere outward appearance of beauty alone has never impress the unforgiving yours truly. All desirable things can only be fully enjoyed from the inside out (and in most cases, the ‘out’ can be omitted altogether).

Fashion week for a blogger (rightly or wrongly) is ruled by what to wear, and a look is surely inextricable from what is unseen underneath. Where stretched and disintegrating cotton whities will most certainly cancel out any magic of any oufit outfit, beautiful lingerie can be the very thing that makes a white shirt and jean ensemble quite the stuff of an Audrey Hepburn film – pre-1960, may I add. But if no one will see it, who will even know whether it’s a sexy lacy number, or a Target polyester basic under your Vetements x Champion Sweat?

You’ll know.

At New York Fashion Week, in that fearless and uninhibited city, it felt just too cool to spend all the between-show hours in my Brooklyn stay, in the grown up sophistication of a lacy black set. On an inexplicably warm day that weekend, as the snow that a flash blizzard had deposited on every rooftop was melting in a kind of languid rain, a whim arose to throw on a great shearling coat and steal out into the fire escape landing, the blue and auburn cityscape sprawling endlessly below.

Then it was back to Paris, where, the decision to make this richly ancient city my base for the fall/winter season turned out to be a cunning plan that I didn’t know I had in me. I have become momentarily nested like a passing albatross in my charmingly Hemingway-esque Paris apartment, whose undesirable location above a street of late-night bars probably yielded an affordability ideal for struggling expat artists of those days.

To be able to return here after each fashion week hop feels like an oasis in the chaos, and that one is not so much the foreigner, interloping in these parts where only fashion week can afford belonging. Rather, in always gorgeous lingerie and loungewear-slash-daywear, whether dressed or undressed, I make believe (almost too convincingly) that I am a fully fledged Parisian whose occasional pastime involves attending a fashion show or two.

Created in collaboration with Intimo.

Locations: Paris, France & New York City, USA | Photography: Self-portrait with assistance from Sophia Gracia

Incredibly important minimal style tips to your inbox? Join my mailing list or follow me on Blog Lovin’