Ashish

Some time in the very near future fuk is hoping that Ashish Gupta will come up with a signature scent. Not, you understand, a smell that bears his name, but a fragrance that distils the essence of his clothes. If such a thing were to exist the tiniest spritz of a morning would brighten even the darkest day.

Ashish's current muse is 'a strange blend of 'soignee and slut – the bastard offspring of Marilyn Monroe and Peewee Herman.' Whatever, we'll just cut to chase and highlight the spangle-filled fabulousness of his dogtooth check sequined shifts, a coat dripping with Disney-esque red cherries, embroidered floral dirndl skirts, sparkly Argyl jumpers, those ever-present slinky bombers and the coat whose woven panels must've made the pattern cutter weep.

As if that wasn't enough, this show had the best hair of the week (tiny hearts plaited close to the crown), the coolest sunnies sunnies (Eiffel tower and swan rims), the fabbest hats embellished with pom poms, mother of pearl button, sequins and silver discs. Oh, and the porniest shoes which, as the lights were dimmed for the final run-through, lit up the floor with flashing lights. Roses are red, violets are blue, it's Valentine's day and Ashish – we love you.

Words: Maia Adams
Photos: Ian Gillett