Full disclosure, I skipped the Sinha-Stanic show.

The fashion week diet, a fine balance of no food or sleep and too much champagne, has finally caught up to me, I’m sick and kind of fearing runways at this point (don’t worry, I’ll be better by Paris).

So thankfully, Aleksandar and Fiona let me swing by their suite at the Mayfair Hotel to see their Spring 2009 collection.

They showed me their very pretty and semi-rock ‘n roll dresses in bright colors, most often set against black inspired by their visits to the Tate. While I checked out their model boards they said they’re hoping to show in New York sooner than later.

We say we’d love to have them - as long as they bring those shoes.

For some reason, I had big expectations for Fashion Fringe.

Maybe it’s because some super cool designers have emerged from it and I thought I might see the next big thing. Or it could’ve been because Tom Ford was a judge and I have a huge crush on him. But it could be because when I walked in, the front row names read: Jerry Hall, Georgia May Jagger, Dita Von Teese, and Princess Beatrice.

But in the end, it was about the clothes. (Well, sort of. I did get a huge kick out of seeing Emma Watson end up in Jerry Hall’s seat and next to Dita. And it was kind of amazing to watch Donatella Versace walk straight into Faran).

The competition included four designers. The first showed an all-white collection inspired by Sarah Jessica Parker which sounds doomed for failure but actually ended up the winner (Eun Jeong Hong’s line, Go By a Secret Path). The second featured super cute, super wearable brightly colored dresses. The third went on print overload with more than a little Miu Miu influence. And the fourth, well the fourth kid was banking on Donatella’s vote and showed a parade of vampy dresses set off with dark lipstick.

Do I think I saw the next Chris Kane or Gareth Pugh? No. But I had fun.

I got to Earl’s Court fifteen minutes before the Vivienne Westwood show was scheduled to start in anticipation of masses.

I didn’t, however, anticipate being crushed by papparazzi once inside. I can’t be sure whether they were violently snapping pictures of Dita Von Teese’s heaving chest or Pamela Anderson’s obscene breasts, but they definitely weren’t interested in demure Emma Watson across the way.

The show opened and closed with Jourdan Dunn, and Daisy Lowe awkwardly sandwiched in between. British superstar Alexa Chung, (seriously, she’s like A-list-movie-star-famous over here), took a surprising turn on the runway, too. And for the record, she walks like Lowe’s complete and total opposite - give her a few more inches and a bit more attitude, and she’s right up there with Trentini.

Meanwhile, the clothes. Think The English Patient meets classic Vivienne Westwood. Then think Velvet Goldmine meets classic Viv. Oh, and the model without a shirt? I won’t tell you what to think.

Going to one of Westwood’s shows was a major moment for me - so please excuse the shitty pictures - I needed to soak it all in without digital camera interference.

We were walking down Bond St. on our way from the Brown’s party for Behati’s boyfriend’s jewelry to Bloomsbury Square for Henry’s party, (that’s a lot of B’s), when we spotted Coco in Nicole Farhi’s windows.

We were excited to see her a) because Nicole Farhi doesn’t exist stateside so we had no idea Coco was the face of her Fall collection and b) because though we’re thrilled Jourdan Dunn, Ali Michael and Raquel Zimmerman are ruling London’s runways, we do miss Coco.

Hopefully she’ll make it to Paris, but these can hold you over until then.

P.S. It’s kind of awkward to place the ad for the dress behind the actual dress, no?

Obviously, ruffles are one of the big trends for Spring 09 - and this is just a sampling.

They were at both the expected (Catherine Malandrino, Luella) and the unexpected (Ohne Titel), and we now expect to see them at all the usual suspects (Forever 21, Topshop, H&M, J Crew, Blair Waldorf, etc.)

But don’t expect them on us - at least, for now…

***Please forgive the word “yesterday”, our timing is a little off. Thanks.

If you’re super tall and skinny and in the market for an impossibly graphic, brightly gorgeous, expensive dress, Basso & Brooke’s got you covered.

The half British (Christopher Brooke) and half Brazilian (Bruno Basso) design duo showed a parade of new, Japanese-inspired ideas at the Science Museum yesterday.

Apparently, they design and build their dresses, then the graphic designer comes into the studio and draws prints on the floor, then the two are combined and sent down the runway. Everyone oohed and aahed over the woven silk dresses at the end, (sheer, obviously). We oohed and aahed over those tops and dresses on which the fabric gathered in the middle of each flower for a 3D effect. It’s nice to see something new on the runway.

The real story, however, is the shoes. Their printed platform was at least four inches, which means the heels, on which Japanese scenes were literally carved, had to be about seven. Sometimes they matched the pattern of the dress, sometimes they were totally different, but every single time a model made it down the runway and back without falling, the audience breathed a cumulative sigh of relief.

We could never pull off those dresses, but wearing those shoes on a daily basis would greatly improve our lives.

My favorite part of the Betty Jackson show, aside from Times UK critic Lisa Armstrong telling me she loved my dress, was the models’ hair and make-up.

Everyone’s locks were pinned up into a sort of woven crown on top of their heads, secured with a retro banded headband on top of a bare face but for bright red lips.

The clothes were less succinct - a few hospital gowns, very simple silk beige dresses, some high-waisted black hotpants I’d buy in a second if I lived on a runway, and a little striped number that I think I saw at Anthropologie a few weeks ago.

A few of the dresses were pretty, a ruffled jumpsuit screamed, “Spring 09!!” but overall the clothes weren’t enough to sustain audience interest.

So we told Lisa about the Barney’s Warehouse sale instead.

“But literally? In a warehouse? And editors go?” she asked.

“Yes! Really! You’ll have to come and write about it,” we told her.

“I have to come just to shop it!”

Well, yes.

Henry Holland’s show started about an hour late. But when the lights finally went down, the 90210 theme song blared from the speakers, so we couldn’t be mad.

The models, starting with Agyness of course and including Chanel, Julia Dunstall and some handsome British boys, pranced out of an archway built of gorgeous fresh hydrangeas. Henry’s family sat in the front row, which was maybe the cutest thing we’ve ever seen at a runway show, while Christopher Bailey perched on the back window, (actually, he might be the cutest thing we’ve ever seen at a show).

Henry’s House of Holland collection was playful, spandexy, colorful and even plain silly at times. But out of nowhere came a couple of well-constructed, totally wearable party dresses, including the baby blue petaled one worn by Ali Michael and the purple pouf Agyness wore to close the show. We wish we could have the yellow skirt Vlada wore for Vivienne Westwood tonight, or even the polka dot poufs from the end, but we’ll have to wait for spring.

Can we have Chris in the meantime?

And now, a note from Faran…

I got lost on the way home from Giles Deacon. The show started two hours late, which is fine, except suddenly I was walking down a dark alley at 10 pm, somewhere in London that I’d never seen before. And yeah, I was terrified.

“Hey there,” said a voice from behind, and I was like, “Oh god, I’m going to have to kick someone’s ass and run away,” but instead when I whirled it was Gareth Pugh. “Hi,” I said, startled, quick kiss. “I’m good, I’m totally lost. Which way is the Tube?” Gareth pointed and I fled, flustered, and five seconds later I was at Victoria Station, the biggest train site in the city.

So I guess I was worried over nothing, but maybe the fear of being chased had less to do with the Buffy reruns I still watch, and more to do with Giles’ show:

The whole thing was Pac Man. Seriously. Lara Stone was dressed in a pink dress with a cloud of yellow hair, and every sixth model or so, she’d come out directly behind another girl as if she were chasing her. The floor was dotted with neon yellow bits. The entrance was guarded by a giant plastic Pac Man ghost. The whole thing was predator and prey, and the clothes were pretty great. Not ground breaking, not “you’re such a genius,” but you’d want to wear almost everything. Silk dresses had armored chests of sheeny nylon. White dresses exploded at the waist, a cloud of keep-away-from-me fabric that was sexy and warning at once. It was modern to the point of invoking “futurism,” a term best laid on the best work of Hussein Chalayan but spreading to Balenciaga and now, definitely, here.

Giles builds an incredible dress for a cool girl, that’s for sure. And when you sew Jessica Stam into that dress and send her walking, it’s a no-lose situation.

Also: The front row had Mischa Barton and Emma Watson, and now looking over this post, I think maybe the fear of being chased had less to do with Pac Man, and more to do with Dementors invading Little Whinging… but if I was “cool” enough to basically sneak into the Giles show with Alexa Chung, I probably shouldn’t mention my Harry Potter obsession anymore, huh?

Love you guys (especially my Gryffindors), xo F.

People without tickets to the Chrisopher Kane show yesterday literally begged for entrance to the packed space.

I squeezed my way in, (with a ticket - I’d be a terrible beggar), to a very surprising collection, the first of his three that actually made me think, “Wow, I really want to wear that.”

Skip the neon leopard sweaters - I could’ve bought one from Betsey Johnson yesterday - but the circular paillette-like skirts and dresses he paired them with rocked. First, there were leather skirts, then perfectly crafted sheer silk dresses, then leather jackets, and finally, white blouses, each time establishing a totally different look with the same technical detail.

(There was also, strangely, though not out of place, a top with the gaping mouth of an ape.)

As for all the marabou, he told The Daily, “Lara Stone is the new Raquel Welch! And then it all gets a bit f***ed up…the hunter becomes the hunted, which is what the marabou was all about.”

But all I could think was that Christopher Kane and Fredericks of Hollywood might be the most random pairing in the history of fashion.

- Wow. The Science Museum is kind of cool. It’s too bad it’s stuck between the Natural History Museum and the Victoria & Albert. I bet no one knows it’s here.

- Wait. Stam is in London?

- Really? That Prada lace rip-off is worse than Zara’s, and will be about a year too late.

- Whoa. Jourdan Dunn is just so pretty. So is the white dress she’s wearing.

- Hmm. Everyone in the front row is texting. The clothes aren’t that bad.

- OK. They’re not very exciting either, but they are super pretty.

The first person to DIY the tulle leggings at Nicole Farhi, and send us a pair, wins a prize.

Not sure what it is yet, but you’ll want it.

Promise.

The Brit-only designer showed a Peter Som-inspired collection of dresses and skirts layered over sheer leggings and long sleeved shirts for a delicate, if not at times confusing, look at the Royal Opera House yesterday morning.

We loved the way Farhi threw a matching printed bra and skirt over a differently printed top, or the way the stylist did. We loved the Betty-Draper-goes-to-the-beach looks toward the end. And we loved the sun hats and the orange blush that made it look like the models were trying really hard not to smile.

There was nothing fashion forward about it, which is especially noticeable in London, but it was pretty - and comfortable.

We walked to school early this morning.

Or through school and toward the gym, for Stella McCartney’s presentation of her newest Adidas collection.

We might walk by the Adidas store on Houston every morning, and we might love the Stella clothes in the window, but we’ve never seen them in action - until we saw them on Olympic athletes today.

In the time it took us to drink three cups of coffee, (we’re severely jet lagged), models ran on treadmills in one corner, gymnasts flipped on balance beams in another, yoga professionals did strange things with ribbons in the other and more models, I think, played tennis against a wall. The best part? A giant trampoline set up in the middle of the room on which two girls did the most insane flips, twists, and jumps we’ve ever seen.

We don’t know if it was the coffee or the adrenaline that woke us up, but we made it to the next show on time. Thanks Stella!

I sat behind Erin O’Connor at the Paul Smith show in Claridge’s Ballroom last night.

That’s the most British I’ll ever be.

You can read about how Erin’s saving the models on Teen Vogue.

But what to tell you about the clothes? Well, it’s like if you went to Morocco with really wet hair and watched Little House on the Prairie re-runs and got a Russian boyfriend and thought, “Hey, what would happen if my wardrobe paid tribute to all of the important things in my life?”

I could tell you more, but even though I was totally into the dresses and turbans, I was doubly interested in the supermodel sitting in front of me.

So know that the music included “The Way You Make Me Feel,” and enjoy the pics.

This is all the explanation we got on our seat at Peter Jensen, so it’s all you get:

“Good evening, Clarice.”

“Hello, Doctor Lecter. I hope I’m not intruding. I have some…documents for you to look at.”

“You’re one of Peter Jensen’s, aren’t you?”

“I’m just here to show you the looks, Doctor. We’d like your opinion.”

“I see. Tell me about this collection, Clarice.”

“It’s about Jodie. Jodie Foster.”

“Another actress? He thinks he can dissect me with this blunt little tool?”

“It’s different this time. It’s androgynous. It begins with tailoring, damask mini skirt suits with oversized shirts, high waist trousers…”

“You dont’ have to tell me, Clarice. I see floral jacqaurds, sequin spot tops, lace-up pencil skirts…this is the Foster of The Accused, of The Hotel New Hampshire, isn’t it?”

“We think so. But where is it going Doctor? Tell me.”

Reasons why Luella Bartley’s show wasn’t just special, but one of the best this season:

1. Breakfast and glitter and the fact that it was in The Crystal Palace. See Teen Vogue for details.

2. Models. It was the first time I’d seen Raquel Zimmermann walk a show. A little birdie told me it’s because Luella’s making a Raquel bag for next season. Also, Ali Michael and Jourdan Dunn got to wear pink and purple prom dresses and well, that’s brilliant.

3. The PR girls. In New York they all wear black, which means the sight of that H&M or Zara dress makes you sick by the end of the week. At Luella, they all wear Luella, which makes you want to listen to all their silly orders.

4. The clothes. The shoes. The bags. The hats. Whoa. Everything was so Luella. There were florals and ruffles and bows and hearts and yet, it was all a little bit punk rock. We need it all - and we’ll be DIYing those head pieces the minute we find a fabric store in Marylebone.

5. The crowd. It was a party the way Charlotte Ronson was a party. There was cheering, sitting on laps, oohing, aahing and a general lust pulsing through the benches.

We all fell in love, and it’s only Day Two.

I’m feeling rather blunt.

Maybe it’s the jet lag or maybe it’s the freedom of being in a different country, but the truth is, I really didn’t think there would be a show more over the top, read - worse than - Erin Fetherston.

Well, Alice Temperley, you’ve got her beat.

You were, at least, smart enough to put one of the worst dresses on the best models - see Jourdan Dunn. But you weren’t smart enough to realize that ruffles, studs, bows, butterflies, feathers and beads probably don’t all belong in one look.

Did you mean to have the front row whispering about how your usually made-for-women clothes are perfect for Taylor Momsen’s next event?

With the exception of Iekeliene’s exceptionally frothy dress and the Charlotte Olympia shoes, (which explain the front row presence of Alice Dellal), this collection won’t even be ripped off by Forever 21.

And that sort of says it all.

A lot of people were psyched for Marios Schwab’s Spring show.

Therefore, a lot of people were disappointed with Marios Schwab’s Spring show.

The young, Topshop-sponsored designer began his show with suede, which is almost impossible to make chic, in dress form. There was also a shiny, half jersey / half silk story in a lot of the same bon-bon colors we’ve seen since we landed in London and some rhinestone dresses so heavy they fell below more than one boob.

We did, however, love the rainbow playsuits. But that’s probably because they’re for a totally different customer than the rest of the collection.

As Faran said, “This is what happens when you tell a great designer to play it safe. It sucks.”

Well, it definitely wasn’t awesome.

Our hotel is located behind Selfridges.

If you haven’t been to London, Selfridges is like heaven, but with better shoes. They have everything from Chloe bags to beat up t-shirts, blue mascara to gourmet food and soon, a party celebrating Henry Holland for Levi’s.

But today, they have awesome windows, and we thought you’d like to see.

Maybe it’s because when you’re in a different country everything, even McDonald’s, is ten times cooler. Or maybe it’s because you never spot Vivienne Westwood in the windows at Barneys or Bergdorf. Or maybe the window designers just went all out for London Fashion Week.

Or maybe it really is one of the greatest stores on earth.

You choose.