Spotting a nondescript black curtain, I darted for it as my saviour from the Westwood lackeys...only to find myself, upon drawing it...ON THE BLOOMING CATWALK!!! The airport hangar-sized Royal Courts rammed with hundreds of facionistas turned as one expecting Natalia V strutting out instead found scruffy, champagne-lubricated me merrily teetering about avoiding the glare of misguided snappers' flashlights like a D-list celeb caught in a Muswell Hill kebab shop...Grabbed by the scruff by a well-meaning fellow blogger - just in time to make room for the first model not to trample me under her amazonian proportions - I planted myself firmly on the choicest spot which Daily Express editors would give their knock-off Louboutins for...
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