Indecent exposure

Me, on a slippery Trafalgar square lion, dressed in my foundation disaster.

Original Photo by: Richard Twilton

Retaken because I cannot find the digital copy by: Gabrielle

Concept by: Gabrielle

So I'm there. I've beaten 3 in 4 students to get a place at one of the most notorious and fruitful University branches for fashion ever, and I'm pissing about on a lion. Good one Gaby.

Maybe I should explain the events leading up to my brush with a police officer. It's probably the most career shaping moments of my life. The fork that will lead you two very different ways. The foundation course, I'm told was originally designed to weedle out those who didn't really want a career in the arts; and which I found out was a cull of the weak, quite rightly so. I'd draw, oh god I'd drawn. I'd sculpted yes, I'd even fashioned clothes out of tin cans and cardboard but never fashion designed, not properly. 

I respect Central St Martins entirely and believe that they have created a good buisness plan to ensure they get the right people for the job; but from the moment I joined their foundation course to the moment I left was the craziest most soul destroying/ creating time of my life. The unsurety of who was next to be culled from the fashion group can only be described as standing in a herd of buffalo, surrounded by lionesses,all scrabbling to stand up, pushing others out in the hope that letting the lions pick of the weak would be enough to keep us alive. Not very inspiring.

So I did what anyone would do, I tried my best. The thing was, my best was declining at this point. Basic skills such as drawing and photography were improving. But my inspiration was stiffled and those that showed promise were not developing into clothes. Then one morning at 4:00 am I was up doing my work (which was normal for CSM) writing an essay that I had to submit on why I wanted to do fashion: and it hit me, High fashion wasn't the career path that I was intended for, it didn't and had never fitted me as a person. I wasn't cut throat enough for one, whims of fashion did not interest me and I wanted a career in which I could work in a team. Do my part to make something special, not follow trends always being out of date. Always behind.

It was my tutor Sophie Gorton who had mentioned that I'd be better in costume design, and once that idea got into my head, I couldn't shake it. For once, it made sense for me, and not the girl I was trying to be.

As for the indecent exposure. Desparation is a dangerous thing. The lengths I was going to go to, to show off a rather shoddy product will forever be a symbol of how in desparate moments you can find out alot about yourself.