Core

One of the pleasures of Fashion Week is that to those dedicated to the art of people-watching it affords ample opportunity to gape, gawp and marvel at some of the human race's more extravagant sartorial sights. It's quite possible to go from a club-kid packed east London warehouse to a yummy mummy-brimming cocktail bar in the space of an afternoon and never tire of looking around.

The Core show, held at Marylebone's appropriately luxurious Landmark Hotel, pulled in a polished, buffed, plucked and plumped up crowd of undeniably wealthy hi-rollers. From the stretch limos parked outside to the diamonds dripping off the women dripping off their older dates these were punters who have cash to splash and aren't shy about showing it off. Appropriately enough, when it emerged onto the catwalk this proved to be a raunchy collection of bum-skimming, figure hugging clothes for women. And (a little worryingly) men. Tight t-shirts, spray-on jeans and cropped jackets abounded but it was the flashes of gold, splashed over everything, that really made a statement. Whether foiled on trousers, glittering on the models' eyelids or reflecting off the metallic catwalk such was the brilliant glow surrounding entire extravaganza it almost justified the wearing of dark sunglasses indoors. It also had the audience in raptures.

What had fuk in raptures, however, were the super-hot male models who looked too good to be true. Good as gold, in fact.

Words: Maia Adams
Photos: Ian Gillett