What I’ve learnt from attending fashion weeks

Sometimes you just have to sit back and surrender yourself to the insanity that is Fashion Week. Here are some amusing and bemusing lessons from covering the circus.

I survived fashion week and all I got were these stupid blisters.

True story: covering my very first Fashion Week in Florence years ago, I decided to break in a new pair of leather loafers. This was pure amateur hour, considering Florence’s cobbled streets and that I’d be walking (sometimes sprinting) all over town, attending one event after ­another.

At the end of that day, my feet weren’t just blistered – they were bleeding.

Not that the incident had stopped me from wearing literally killer footwear at the shows. Sometimes you just have to sit back and surrender yourself to the insanity that is Fashion Week. Below, more amusing and bemusing lessons I wish I knew before I joined the circus.

• You won’t sleep. A typical day starts at 9am, with the first catwalk show, and ends with an after-party at 1am. Imagine doing that for five weeks straight, which was the case for many journalists and buyers who attended last month’s menswear shows. Then imagine doing that thrice a year. Bring Berocca.

• Everybody wants a front-row seat. I have seen catfights. But I really don’t care. At the recent Zegna show, I was late so I ended up standing in the back, next to the photographers, which actually gave me a better view of the clothes. What we need at Fashion Week is not entitlement, but Wi-Fi. How are we supposed to live-Vine? Oh, and phone- charging stations, so I don’t have to stealthily squat inside Apple stores.

• Nobody eats. At last year’s New York shows, I lost 7 kilos in 10 days, thanks to a diet of Tazo Tea and Cronuts, which were being given away by interns outside the venues. Compare this to the Fashion Forward shows in Dubai, where the press room has an all-day, 8am-11pm buffet. (No weight loss to report there.)

• Don’t skip the after-parties. The fun isn’t so much in the going out itself, but the people you see while you’re out. Parties are usually held in a dark space – the perfect venue to study social hierarchies. There’s always a hip-hop star, a rich underage VVIP, a fashion mum who hugs everyone and a student in a homemade outfit. Trivia: what do bloggers and models have in common? They always arrive in groups of no fewer than three.

• Street style is a spectacle. Yes, that gruelling professional sport currently under consideration for Rio 2016. I don’t mind show-goers stopping to be snapped on their way to a venue. It’s those who have no business being there except to be photographed. There will always be a horde who will stand outside, whether under the sweltering heat or a snowstorm, peacocking in their cuckoo outfits. But I salute these guys – they’re nothing if not committed. If you enjoy dressing up and feel good about it, well, good for you.

• You will speak a new vocabulary. When spotted worn by regular people on the street, a trend is “dead”. When seen back on the catwalk, it “lives”.

• Please do not touch the celebs. From A-listers to D-stars, whether they’re doing duties as “brand ambassadors” or “gate-crashers”. I’ve sat near Nicki Minaj, Kanye West and Joe Jonas, whose bodyguard kept on reminding us that taking photos of the Middle Jonai was prohibited. Like I would! (Totally.) Also: Steve Buscemi. And Matt Damon. Serious actors in Fashion Week? See guys, it’s not so silly.