The Scene . . . BBB

BBB?

Decipher the code . . . 

Beach Blanket Babylon played host to 'The House of Blue Eyes' on the last night of fashion week. Being a Shorditch virgin (I know,  I know, what kind of fashionista am I) I had never heard of, no matter frequented the BBB establishment.

After a bit of dutch courage provided by my secret PR girls - (for reasons of confidentiality we will call them 'Heels' and 'Flats), we headed off to join the crowd of restless guests outside the venue. 

We eventually made our way to the front of the queue, (it should be noted that we were fairly lax about the whole thing, with no clue at all as to who's list we were on and to be fair we were far more fascinated by watching Hillary Alexander having a fag outside the venue than getting in.) Some how, though 'Flats' and I were being squashed, 'Heels' dragged us through and got us in. The venue was crammed, I should probably mention that at this point I'm beginning to realise that BBB is frequented by the more colourful 'Vice' and 'Bowery' style scene. As I'm past by an exotically dressed guy in full on feathers and hardcore make-up. I feel a wee bit under dressed, which is funny as I'm in pink leopard print!

Get some ridiculously expensive drinks and am served wine in a TUMBLER, I think I have fallen into some bizarre university party. 'Heels' and 'Flats' discuss wine origins (I reckon it was Tesco's finest) and start pottering about waiting for this master piece of a show we are all here for. 

Interval for much gossip (which you are not privy to, it would be far too much info and I would need to kill you).

Show starts (well to be honest no one is sure) a man falls down the stairs (actually he was pushed) - he is in a gimp mask and very little else, being pushed by a big man dresses as a crow. He chases him, then a girl in a feather skirt and red nipple tassels on what we reckon were man made breasts dances on a podium with a pasty looking chap in red leopard print pants. Its all a bit scary and weird. We huddle in the corner clicking our heels (or indeed flats) hoping we will be transported to somewhere else (perhaps a Chanel showroom).

There was then rather predictable music, think the Sex Pistols and then some predictable 'rebel looks' - cue safety pins and early Westwood knits. 

There was a couple of great dresses, an embellished body (the jersey kind) and a white cape that we all loved. The rest quite frankly left us foxed! 

Jodie Harsh made an appearance, fantastically flinging red wine on to 'Flats'. Then some more people crashed down and the nipple tassel lady, licked the leopard print, panted mans leg. It was all rather frightening. 

And then it all ended . . . As abruptly as it began. No one cheered or clapped, everyone just dispersed, had a drink and carried on like nothing had happened. 

We wondered off into the night, safe in the knowledge that the Leigh Bowery has left a legacy and influence for generations to come. While it may not be my scene, I think this particular scene has it down. As 'Heels', 'Flats' and I wondered into the night in anticipation for what new eye opening experiences we will get tomorrow night at Fash Off! Bring it on!