It seems as though I have just been on some grand tour of the absurd. It helps that I work in fashion, quite possibly the most absurd of all industries. And the most magnificent display of this absurdity has reached London: the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. Planes have touched down and disgorged their precious cargo, the ‘Angels’ (they’re more than just models, remember), who bounced onto British soil, all glossy and shiny and pristine. And where were they heading? To the unsexiest of all venues — Earl’s Court Exhibition Centre, home to those other stalwarts of glamour, the Ideal Home Show and the Professional Lighting and Sound Association Trade Fair. Never before will SW5 have seen so many sequins, so many kisses blown down the lenses of cameras.
Most popular
Michael Gove
‘I’m a new kind of Christian’: Jordan Peterson on faith, family and the future of the right
But instead of sending me down the District line (with severe delays) to Earl’s Court, my whistle-stop itinerary whisked me off to Salzburg, once home to Mozart and the von Trapp family, and now the chosen location for the latest Chanel exhibition.
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in