I held tight to the fact that, in all likelihood, I would be
too distracted from looking at the clothes to feel any real
pangs of jealousy towards Charlotte Smith.
I was working after all. This was no time to deal with my
emotional fashion baggage.
But as the lead model oozed her way down the catwalk in a
vintage number straight out of a 1950's Vogue magazine, I
knew my issues had come to the table.
Charlotte Smith had my life.
Touched by the wand of the ultimate fairy god mother, the
delectable Ms. Smith had been gifted the definitive fashion
fantasy- a collection of vintage clothing so extensive that
the mere sight of it would be enough to send any vintage
couture lover into cardiac arrest.
As my eyes fell on the first gown to grace the runway, I knew
I was going to need a strong antacid to quell the burning
desire of "must have" that was rising from deep inside of me.
The luscious fabric. The exquisite cut. This was so much more
than a dress. This beautiful tailored number commanded
attention, demanded adoration and imbued a sense of desire
easily confused with that of an illicit affair. I wanted to
take her home and call her mine.
And they came again and again.
If you think I was alone in this vintage fashion
fetish-ivity, you would be mistaken. As each beautifully
heeled pair of pins hit the carpet, a collective "ooooooh"
could be heard throughout the room, the shared longings of
women starved of their necessary fix of haute couture. For a
few brief seconds, we were united, lustful, a shared soul
fused by the threads of a beautiful dress.
So whilst Charlotte Smith's stunning collection of frocks may
seem just that - a collection if pretty dresses - the reality
is not so. Her collection is a history, a lover's date, a
picnic with good friends. It is a first meeting, a secret
rendezvous, a summer's afternoon. They tell a story. They are
And for one night last night, I was blessed to dance beside
Jane Pike- ODT Fashion-i