The Graeme Black show was on Savile Row, and it's probably not a good sign that I was more interested in staring out the window into Ozwald Boateng's shop instead of at Black's runway. The backdrop, sandy canvases with mosques painted on, was beautiful. There was a fog machine and squawking birds in place of music and the clothes were well made, but this conversation followed: Me: Who wears that? Friend: A very specific kind of woman. He designs for a particular market and does it well. Me: Can't that woman buy Oscar De La Renta instead? Friend: Well yes, it's the same clientele.
Me: If I was that woman, I'd buy Oscar. Friend: But you're not. Me: No, I'm most definitely not. Friend: When I'm old, I want to dress like that. Me: When I'm old, I just want to dress the same, but with crazy hats instead of silk blouses and crocodile jackets.