What Katy Did: at Fashion Week.

London Fashion week has been and gone but columnist Katy Evans was able to sample a slice of the stylish life by attending the opening show.

I've never really been that into fashion and having to have the latest trends. Of course, I shouldn't really admit to this, being responsible for lots of the fashion features in the paper, but apart from a period during university when I bought Vogue religiously and could name every trend of the season (polka dots being one of them, I seem to recall) I normally only learn about the 'new' looks by the time they've hit the high streets, by which time the fashion world is already onto the next season.

So when I received an invite to London Fashion Week I was not only bemused that PR Company had cast their net wider than the confines of the capital, but intrigued to sample some of the excitement of such a high profile event.

The show in question was Paul Costelloe and was also the first of the week.

As opposed to being fashionably late, I arrived far too early and had to wait around in the drizzling rain, sans umbrella.

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But it was an interesting experience watching as camera men and women arrived, lugging their stepladders with them, and seeing the models turn up.

At least I assumed they were models; with legs as thin as my arms, they had to be. Seeing pictures of catwalk shows always summon up a certain amount of envy in me (why can't my legs look like that?) although I have it on good authority that men prefer women with shape, rather than stick insects. But despite being a size 10/12 and 5ft 8, seeing a 6x6 (i.e height and dress

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size) gazelle-like creature striding past still made me feel fat and frumpy.

But enough of my size envy.

Once in the tent, it was interesting watching guests arrive and listing to the PR women (all mid 20s and with posh-sounding names) rushing around deciding who was sitting where.

I now have another fashion sin to admit to: before the invitation I had never even heard of the designer. It turned out that the clothes were actually alright and the sort of thing that will sell well for the mass market (the mass market with money that is) as opposed the exotic creations that were paraded down the catwalk in the next two shows. Not that I saw these wild dresses with my own eyes (only on the photo system when back at

work) but I wished I had. For although I summoned the courage to go back stage and chat to Mr Costelloe himself, I chickened out of trying to blag my way into the next show.

So, with free mini bouquet in hand (which I hoped people might think was from an admirer - as it was Valentines Day), I headed back to the office.

To be honest, I'm still not exactly clued up on what's hot for next winter, but in my opinion, style is more important than fashion trends, which come and go with the blink of a kohl-lined, mascara-swept, sparkly-shadowed eye.

Women look best is when they identify their own style and dress for their shape. Audrey Hepburn was (and still is) a great example. My style heroine, I have rather taken to the slim fitting trouser, three quarter length sleeve look with flat ballet pumps (in summer that is). I also tend to avoid patterns like the plague, although I own a couple of stripy tops, as you can see from my picture). This works for me so I'm sticking to it. There will be no flouncy tulip skirts or 'city' shorts for me this season or any season for that matter.

Having said all this, I have been asked to model in a charity fashion show at Endeavour House on March 16, wearing creations from local designers and boutiques. So although I don't actively go in search of fashion, fashion always seems to find me somehow.

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