Poor consumptive bohemian that I am, I eke out The Sunday Times through the week, allowing myself one supplement a day with my eggy bread and absinthe. Thus it was only last night that I flew, amongst a clatter of falling books, faded roses and epistles bathed in tears, to gaze from my oriel window with The Style clutched inky to my breast.
The precollections are here! Hoorah! The tyrant Season has been assassinated by the freedom fighters of frippery; long live omniannual spendthriftery! Yes, now I can glean my 'directional new pieces', veritably 'build the basics of my seasonal wardrobe' well before those 'razzle-dazzle catwalk creations' take the stage.
First heady rush subsiding, I found myself midst a considered little pause. Our correspondent from the front line of frock, Ms Croft, claims that transitional fashion is 'traditionally a designer phenomenon' filtering down to the proles. Now hold on there, Claudia.That sounds pretty unphenomenal to me. In fact, that sounds like a case of couture realising it's missing a lucrative trick and scrabbling onto the A-line grey tweed coat-tails of the high street.
This is called designing and selling clothes in between defined periods of designing and selling clothes, i.e. designing and selling clothes all the time. The idea of a July and August 'dead time' is foreign to anyone entering a Zara, Topshop or H&M in the past few years; the sale rails go up in May right longside the siren Septemberware of cape and cowl. These guys are way ahead. They have preprecollections. Foetal fashion if you will.
So journalism is once more been brought to account, and the Blonde on the street refuses to be blindsided by the jargon of the swell. Now all she has to do is decide if those precollection Gap high waisted jeans cinch her handspan stomach beautifully with a Dorothea Brooke meets Bo Derek vibe, or channel fat-ass Sandy, the special country cousin from Maine.