Saturday, March 19, 2011
You know this pommy has got nothing but love for Jaeger London, exclusive purveyors of the BUTTERS BAG and (pawroll please...) orchestrators of my grand London Fashion Week BFC runway debut. More exclusive Dlog coverage on that front to come soon...but in the meantime, feast thine eyes on this, myself and the lovely Stuart Stockdale backstage after Jaeger's Autumn/Winter show. Isn't he just so handsome? I could stay in that bag in those arms forever...
Like Madame Wintour herself, this prized pup only attends la creme de la creme of shows during fashion week, where some intern (or teething pup) keeps my seat warm for me til I arrive with my parade of adoring puparazzi in tow. Thus it was this season with Mulberry, who, as per usual, conducted themselves with manners worthy of Crufts, sending me a front row invitation with a little addendum of a plus one for my human assistant (otherwise known as Mommy). Along with said invitation also arrived a lovely tiger-print dusty orange jacket from the new Spring/Summer collection for yours truly to don on show day (no outfit for Mommy, haha).
But to my horror, when I arrived at the venue was and was busy dutifully obliging my adoring fans with kisses and cuddles, as I watched the other VIP's (very-important-pets) trickle in, my jaw suddenly locked with a tremendous bark, as shrill as I could manage that early in the morning (normally this fashion dog doesn't rise til noon and Emma Hill chose 10AM for catwalk kickoff). The ultimate in fashion week faux paws; I had a Malti-Poo, the progeny of this editor or that, for a doppelganger. Oh-My-Friggin-Dawg!!! While Mommy and the Malti's mommy cooed over the adorableness of our matching outfits, I snarled my bitchiest fashion week snarl at the cheeky white mop of a "doginista", who, breaking gaze first, clearly admitted that there was no question as to "who wore it better." But when Mommy insisted on taking a picture of the two of us together, I let loose the full brunt of my inner diva, and like Naomi herself, I refused to pose whilst I scanned the room for the nearest mobile device with which I could slap first Mommy and then the offending Malti-poo.
After the close encounter (it nearly came to a dog-walk-off!!), Mommy quickly wised up and swept me back to my rightful place in the FROW (just opposite Alexa Chung, of course) while my newfound nemesis made her way towards the back of the venue. Feeling satisfied and relaxed at last, I curled up on Mommy's lap, and waited for the show to begin.
And when begin it did, I was incredibly pleased to discover that my visage had served as one of Emma Hill's main inspirations. My face adorned bag rivets, the brand's signature Portsman locks and was even splashed around as a print on dresses, tops and skirts. Sure Emma may have claimed that said creature was actually a quote-un-quote "fox" but we all know who the foxiest Knoxy tooling about Londontown is. Just admit it, Emma, though you persist in your love of Schnauzers and Pugs as runway model breed of choice, it is the Pomeranian that truly is your canine muse. And speaking of Schnauzers, as soon as the show ended, me and my four perfectly pawdicured paws were immediately whisked backstage for a chance to interview the hunk of fur himself. You can read my interview with Pippa on the Mulberry dlog here and be sure to check back soon for my rendition of the chat, in HDD (High Definition Dog, duh!) TV.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Like mother, like daughter, this Diva Doginista can't possibly face her daily round of shows at LFW without the requisite Venti Dogaccino, Starbucks' special and oh so exclusive pomeranian-only blend of Doggy-friendly goodness.
In the midst of the LFW madness, Mommy and I snuck away from the melee of Somerset House to join my fabulous friend Roland Mouret for a glass (or mini bowl, in my case) of champers at his new flagship store at 8 Carlos Place. I must say, I have a soft spot for handsome Frenchmen, and Roland (proud father to Jack Russel Dave) really knows how to handle a posh dog or two. Scratching me in just the right spots and tickling my tummy, when Roland had to get up and leave us to go for a fitting, I nearly let my killer bark resound throughout the shop in defiance. But on account of his fabulousness and this fashion dog's innate understanding of how to play the game, especially in the runup to his Paris runway show, instead, I just nudged mommy to insist that she pick off where he left off. Roland, mon amour, I'll see you in Paris!
|"Dalmatian chic is the theme, you say?? I'm sorry, Topshop, but your models need at least four legs in order to carry off canine couture-yawn! Nope, not getting out the bag for this one."|