Monday, 28 October 2013

Radical Designer Awards

Blooming bloody heck, I only gone and won the darn awards! I have now been officially crowned Radical Designer of the year by the UK Fashion Design Council. Not bad ay? As always the event was a right palaver, but the difference is this time I had my bestest ever model with me who made the right palaver a jolly good time.

Up at the crack of dawn loading dresses in to a van as usual, but got some crafty boxes and the whole process became a lot easier, although it did look like I was transporting 7 delightfully packaged dead bodies. Convoyed up to London with the Dumpster crew and the madness began. While I unpacked and took over 80% more space that I should have been in the mess room, my models went straight in to training with ‘Professor Catwalk’ (no, im not kidding). He was a character to say the least, but you don’t get to be three times award winning and on Britain’s Next Top Model without eating, breathing and oozing sass. And my oh my, Professor Catwalk had sass by the bucket load. Personal favourite was him yelling at a girl down the catwalk ‘Umm Miss? Miss? Are you awake Miss? Because you’re boring me’. These poor girls, some of which were only 16 were being drilled at 9 in the morning by an American Sass Storm Trooper. But when it comes down to it ‘you got to walk the runway, like the rent needs to be paid’, Such wise words.

After I got my models back, sufficiently shaken, we got down and dirty with hair and make up. It soon became apparent that everyone was taking this very, very seriously. We did it all ourselves- bit of makeup from Superdrug and a hairband. Where as everyone else had hired agency models, makeup artists, hair stylists…There were designers running around, freaking out because their forth garment wasn’t hanging quite right on the left shoulder of a girl. Someone asked me for some black thread, me?! I laughed and said “Sorry mate, not my thing. I can give you PVA glue though?” ive never seen a face of such utter shock before, I think they thought I was trying to sabotage their collection or something, when really I just cant sew.

 Being in one room with all the other designers freaked me out for sure, their stuff was so good. These people were old, they were experienced and golly gosh they knew their way around a pattern block. Then there was little old me who dropped out of fashion school because ‘I didn’t like sewing’. Yep... what the heck was I doing there right. Probably should have been tweaking my collection rather than doing stupid stuff like taking panorama shots and trying to run round in time to be in it twice (bossed it.). 

Anyway I put that out my mind and did the bestest I could, I presented to a panel of 6 judges with my models behind me in the dresses. Gave them the old DHB charm offensive and knocked them dead with my media pack and mood board. The face of the model wearing the lust dress as I explained to the judges that she was wearing a hella load a fanny was priceless, She clearly had no idea until then (she started playing spot the butthole as soon as she came out the room though). It all went swell and they seemed interested in what I had to say. Then it was just the waiting game until the catwalk show and announcement of the winner. When we were all back stage I was briefing my models on how to walk, I suggested possibly the crab walk to be followed by the worm. The other designers were staring at me like ‘is this girl high? Why is she saying these things’. But they seemed to loosen up after I tried to twerk up against one of them, clearly posing no threat as a designer.

It was pretty awkward as me and my one model also bestfriend (had to pick one to walk the catwalk with on the off chance I did win) were standing right in the entrance to the stage. We were both looking at each other like “ah this is going to be awkward when we have to try and shuffle out of the winners way”. But then bish bash bosh, it was me! The first thing I heard was “FUCK OFFF!” from my bestfriend herself (good to know people had faith in me). Im kidding, I was just as shocked. Then i did my suave little strut down the catwalk, fist pumped the air with my trophy. I was pretty much Sylvester Stallone in Rocky. As soon as I got backstage my award was grabbed from me, I was like ‘oh guess I don’t get that then huh’, but they just wanted to engrave my name in it. Cuties.

And that’s that, I was in bed by half ten.

I want to say an official thank you to my models, most were all friends of friends and did me a solid by helping out (not that they didn’t get a lot out of it- professional training from professor catwalk? Hello?!)

Anyway, Dumpster Design is New York bound, so see you there suckas!

No comments:

Post a Comment