The Oz Effect

Hi everyone! I know it’s been a few months since my last post but that’s the way ME works – you can only do things when your body allows you to (when it produces enough energy and the symptoms aren’t too severe to prevent you from doing so). I’ve been able to write a few words every few weeks… there was a time when I wasn’t able to do this so thank you to my body and to myself for allowing me to ever so slowly write this post!

You can read the chapters of my story I’ve shared with you so far, which include:

1. How It Began… Part I (symptoms)

2. How It Began… Part II (diagnosis)

3. How it Began… Part III (first year of uni)

4. Eye Of The Intern (this one is pretty self-explanatory: internships)

So where were we up to???

 

January 2014: I had returned to London, interned at KTZ for London Collections: Men (mens fashion week) after spending a month in the Austrian ski resort Bad Kleinkirchheim whilst catching yet ANOTHER virus, which all in all took me down to functioning at probably just under 50% on the CFS Functional Ability Scale (see below & click to enlarge). I now use Dr Myhill’s CFS Functional Ability Scale to measure whether my ME is improving, maintaining the same level or deteriorating…

Screen Shot 2015-12-28 at 16.59.57.png

Whilst I was basking away in an Austrian thermal spa, soaking up the sun and admiring the tantalising snow-drenched mountains, I received the news that I had been accepted onto a university exchange programme at The University of Technology in Sydney, Australia!!!! My mind and body went into a total state of shock. It had been 9 months since I’d applied to go on an exchange programme and I never ever expected to get accepted. All of my skills lay in fashion or somewhere within the creative industries & I’d applied to an extremely academic university with a portfolio containing virtually no ‘academic’ skill beyond GCSE & A Level qualifications, hence why I didn’t anticipate this delightful news. I had barely told anyone other than my immediate family and a few uni friends that I’d applied so when I returned to London and casually announced I would be moving to Australia in 3 weeks time for 7 months… I think everyone was as shocked as I was!

During the last few weeks I spent in the UK, I made the most of my free time (as always) travelling here, there and everywhere trying to say as many goodbyes as possible, despite still suffering (I hate using this word but it’s the only one I think is appropriate here) with the virus I picked up whilst I was in Austria. My friends and I knew that I was no longer well enough to go out clubbing to celebrate so we would have to spend our time either at home, going shopping or to a restaurant but still at an unrealistic, massive push on my behalf.

IMG_8080

Breakfast at Harriets Cafe Tearooms in Cambridge

IMG_8087

I remember visiting my friend in Cambridge and we were unable go on the night out with all of her friends, despite already knowing that this wouldn’t be possible pre-visiting her, I still felt guilty, ashamed and frustrated with myself and my body that I wasn’t capable of doing what everyone else was. I also felt like a complete let down as if somehow it was all my fault that my body wasn’t able to do what I wanted it to. This was really the point where ME became prevalent enough in my life that I started to develop new emotions and attitudes towards it that I hadn’t experienced until now. It felt as if these unruly emotions were bubbling inside of me, surfacing, gasping for air, desperate to be heard but all I wanted to do was stamp them down, keep the lid closed, locked and to throw away the key.

A few weeks later I found myself in the exact same situation whilst visiting friends in Sheffield. Even though everyone knew I wouldn’t be able to leave the house that night, I felt like I ‘should’ have been able to. This term ‘should’ began to dominate my ME life for years to come. It was sort of the motivation to push myself, the constant ringing in my head, “I should be able to do this” because when I was healthy I could. It never once occurred to me that it was okay to not be able to do things because I had a chronic illness. At that point all I knew was that those few weeks of travelling had caught up with me and ME felt like a giant ogre who was constantly leaning over my shoulder, stalking my every move, anticipating my next downfall, just watching, waiting for it to happen. It didn’t have to wait long as those few weeks took their toll on me and I spent my last day in Sheffield on the sofa barely unable to talk let alone move. It was my friends who actually said to me, “You’re not okay are you, you’re really sick today, you really need to slow down Emma.” Deep down I knew they were right, I was filled with dread just thinking about how I was going to make the journey home. How had the looming few hours of travel become such a torturous and debilitating hardship on my body so swiftly, so soon? I wished and wished so badly that I could just curl up on their sofa for at least another week to take respite from the burden I had unleashed upon my body. You can probably guess from my previous posts how I chose to handle this one though… I shrugged it off, disregarded my new reality and soldiered on, determined as always to not let ME win this war.

 

February 2014: That activity filled January ensured that by the time I moved to Australia I was probably down to functioning at a little over 45%. I was no longer able to travel abroad alone, find somewhere to live alone and move into a new place alone so my lovely momma had to take a few weeks off work to assist me. Aside from all of the things we ‘had’ to do whilst she was there with me, I expected a fun-filled trip full of exploration, adventure and exciting escapades (somewhat relatively within my ME limits of course) but things didn’t really turn out as I had planned. 

The impact of ME on my capabilities proved more significant than ever before. Until this point in time, my attempts to keep up with other ‘healthy’ folks lasted only a few days at a time, at most before I retreated to my bed in order to recover from these activities. Striving to keep up with a healthy being for two weeks straight was a completely different story and took my ME symptoms to a whole other level. It was those few weeks of constantly comparing myself and my abilities to a ‘healthy’ person that sparked something inside of me making me a little more aware of how ill I had become (and remember I’m saying a little more aware not fully aware), for the time-being at least, anyway.

Something about that trip didn’t sit well with me. Looking back to the month before, it was my mum as well as my friends who had been warning me of the damage my gallivanting was doing to my body. She repeatedly told me to stop, to slow down at least, as she could see how my way of life was taking it’s toll. Things quickly changed tune though as soon as we arrived in Australia and she literally wanted to go EVERYWHERE and do EVERYTHING regardless of  the limitations my health imposed upon me. A typical tourists guide to Sydney book may as well have been written for us with the amount of activities we filled our ever expanding schedules with. I so desperately wanted to keep up, to be capable of doing everything she had hoped for in order to ensure that this was a ‘trip of a lifetime’ for her. I soon realised that this wasn’t possible though when after just a couple of days I was already silently struggling. Once again those feelings of guilt, shame and embarrassment ran wild around my head. Unexpectedly, those feelings quickly turned from how I felt about myself to how I felt towards her. I was confused as frustration and irritation took charge of my emotions. I didn’t understand how I was ‘too sick’ to try and keep up with my friends yet I wasn’t ‘too sick’ to keep up with her. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all. It was as if it was one rule for my friends and one rule for her. And the truth is, since then that is generally how ME has worked out for me so far – everyone wants me to use my energy on them but as soon as it’s spent on other people they tell me I shouldn’t be doing it. Something I’ve learned along the way is that people can be very selfish can’t they. It takes a selfless person to give someone space to allow them to heal in their own time.

I look back now though and I’ve realised that I’m partly to blame for the situation I found myself in because people have no idea how sick I am unless I tell them. They don’t know if I’m well enough to do something or not, unless I tell them and they don’t know how I’m feeling both physically and emotionally, again, unless I tell them. The reason behind this is because my illness is invisible. I don’t ‘look’ sick do I? You look at me and I look healthy don’t I? I can walk some of the time, I can talk, I smile and I laugh so why would you ever think that there is anything ‘wrong’ with me? This is probably because I was so accomplished (if I say so myself) at hiding the truth of what was happening to me for so many months, so many years.

I guess if I expected anyone to know how I was feeling, it was going to be my mother but through this journey I’ve learnt a lot and one thing I do know is that’s not the way invisible illnesses work. This is the first time I witnessed my illness starting to create cracks in my relationships, it added a new dimension to them and an unwelcome one at that. Yet despite the ups and downs of our trip and this slight hiccup in my rocky road, those few weeks my mum and I spent together were indeed some of the best I’ve ever had and it was in fact the trip of a lifetime we had both hoped for.

IMG_8708

At Fu Manchu, a cosy Chinese joint in Darlinghurst.

IMG_8519

At the Archibald Foundation in Hyde Park, central Sydney.

IMG_8168

Here we are all dressed up in the Chinese Garden of Friendship (yes we are in Sydney not in China).

 

March 2014: Following my mums return to the UK, I was able to get some relief for a few weeks in the form of complete bed rest before I embarked on my dauntingly academic university semester. When uni began, I was still spending the majority of my time in bed apart from the required 1-3 hours per day, 3 days a week I was required to attend. I actually can’t remember what course I had applied to study for (cognitive dysfunction including memory loss is a symptom of ME and has become more severe as I’ve deteriorated) but I do remember that it was within the Communication Faculty. Whatever course it was that I’d applied for was unexpectedly full when I went to enrol and so was the one I applied for after that and again the one after that. I didn’t realise that I had been accepted into the FACULTY not the COURSE and being accepted onto a course came on a sort of first come first served basis. Bizarre I know. Absolutely nothing like UK universities. Then I started receiving letters from the VISA people saying I was ‘BREACHING MY VISA’ and if I didn’t enrol soon I would be deported!!! I’m not even joking. Australia is actually crazy strict with letting people in and out of their country. That was it! There was no effing way I was going to be deported or be an illegal immigrant of some sort so I stormed into UTS demanding to be enrolled on whichever course was free! React first think later is the way my brain usually works.

And what did they pick… JOURNALISM… it couldn’t be that bad could it? I mean, I had already studied fashion writing as a module at uni so how different could it really be? Oh dear… oh dear… my first day went something like this: Head of Journalism Course – “If you’re here to write about fashion then you’re in the wrong place. If you want to write about Chanel then you’re in the wrong place.” THOSE WERE HER EXACT WORDS. Why?!?@?@@? What was wrong with Chanel? The holy grail of fashion! How dare you insult Karl Lagerfeld like that! What is wrong with these people! That was my initial reaction and then it began to sink it, ‘Oh shit, I’ve ***** it really haven’t I’. What else was I going to write about in my career other than fashion? Oh well! Nothing I can do about it now! I later learned that this wasn’t a broad ‘journalism’ course, it’s objective was to train pupils for jobs at the likes of ABC NEWS or SKY NEWS. Could you possibly get any further from the fashion powerhouse known as Chanel? Luckily, my intention of moving to Australia was never for the university… I was there was for the fashion of course. Come on, what else did you expect!

 

April 2014: Australia was and still is an emerging fashion capital. I had been following Australian Fashion Week for a few years as well as witnessing the break out of many fashion designers onto both European and American fashion scenes. It was an industry not too small that I couldn’t gain quality experience in the industry and at the same time it wasn’t too big; meaning I wouldn’t end up being a tiny fish in an ever expanding deep blue ocean (this is how I felt in London most of the time). It was the right place and the right time and this international exchange was my chance to capitalise on that.

Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week Australia was rapidly approaching so I did what I always did during the run up to fashion week and sent out email after email after email applying for internship after internship after internship… which resulted in lots of email sent versus a mere few responses. A few weeks later, fashion week had begun and still NO responses. CLEARLY I was doing something wrong here. This wasn’t how it usually went for me in London. Maybe things worked differently here? I had a little cry; telling myself maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, maybe I wasn’t going to get the fashion experience I had hoped for and that was okay with me (oh lordy lord it wasn’t but sometimes we just have to pull ourselves together and tell ourselves that). Those tears were swiftly wiped away when FINALLY I received a phone call from a super sassy lady who was/is the founder of the online creative space Fashionizer.TV. I’d made it through the first round YESSSSS (CV, cover letter and social media – check!) now onto the second round… TASK TO COMPLETE: Catwalk review of the Diesel Black and Gold show from New York Fashion Week. YESSSS this was my forte. Designers. Catwalks. Reviews. Fashion Week. I did this for fun. Yep I’m not even joking. It was my time to shine and I had this one in the bag. I knew it was mine. La di da di da, plenty of twirling and dancing occurred at this point as I knew some magic moments lay ahead.  A little bit of self confidence never hurt no-one. Rule No.1 self doubt never gets you ANYWHERE, especially in fashion. Self-belief? Confidence? Arrogance? Is there really any difference? (that’s a joke guys) (okay maybe it isn’t) (I never can tell myself whether I’m actually joking or not)

The next thing I knew I was on the phone with super sassy lady, aka Sophie for what was meant to be a telephone interview but turned out to be something that resembled two old friends obsessing over everything and anything fashion, including Karl Lagerfeld’s latest Chanel extravaganza. Now this was my kind of work, no ABC News, no broadcast journalism, just pure and simple FASHION. A day later and I was inside fashion week having a face to face meeting with super sassy Sophie. I was being grilled. Hard. My fashion knowledge was being put to the test. In particular… designers. European. American. Asian. Australian. The lot of them. She wanted to know what I knew and more. You see, Fashionizer.TV went around the world filming the shows at fashion week to create an online world of fashion films and it would be my job to write the accompanying catwalk reviews as well as covering the shows via social media. The thing is though, we were in Australia and this was Australian fashion week and my knowledge of Australian designers wasn’t my strong suit (that’s putting it mildly). I could see it in her eyes as she began to doubt me, you know when you just know when an interview isn’t going well, it was one of those ones…

But then out of nowhere, something ignited a tale from long ago, a stroke of luck perhaps? That memory flashed by like a magical sparkle before my eyes. I was 14 years old; it was around the time my true love for fashion began and the first time I lay eyes on a pair of Sass & Bide black rat leggings – on Russell Brand’s legs. Yes I know he isn’t your typical 14 year old girls fashion icon but he was mine. Next appeared Sienna in them and then came Kate… that was it – I simply HAD to have them! But they were sold out EVERYWHERE!!! (lots of tears involved). A few months later I stumbled upon them, straight ahead, there they were… dazzling & gleaming like angels with a shimmering halo shining down upon them… okay so that was probably just the strobe lights in Harvey Nichols but you get what I’m saying. This was a magical moment for me. My 14 year old self spent every penny I had (£106 in total) on those leggings. Kate Moss had them so why couldn’t i? The key to this story is Sass & Bide were a powerful Australian brand who had just broke out onto the worldwide fashion stage and I told super sassy Sophie THAT is the reason I had to have them. A little white lie never hurt no one. Her reaction was, “You’ve got the position. Do what you do for your social media but do it for us”.

Here are some of my favourite street style looks from Australian Fashion Week…

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

One internship just wasn’t enough for me though was it. That Type A personality of mine you are probably beginning to know so well kicked into overdrive. I always wanted more. MORE MORE MORE. This is one of many mantras that underpins the way my brain works. The second internship I took on was largely out of my comfort zone, I’ve always welcomed a challenge though. This wasn’t high fashion. It was eco-fashion. This PR, digital marketing and social media position at the sustainable jewellery brand, Zefyr Jewels is what stemmed my interest into an entire world of wellbeing, which at the time I never really knew existed. I didn’t really understand the significance of combining fashion with a world that was so far apart. This was in 2014 then did you notice how 2015 was the year when health became cool? Green smoothies, yoga, mindfulness, juicing, spiralizers, Deliciously Ella, Goop.com, Soul Cycle, active wear – these are just a few things that dominated social media in 2015. I’ve gone a bit off topic I know but now my life is a constant balance of fashion and health, worlds I never thought could fit together but surprisingly they go hand in hand.

Screen Shot 2016-01-13 at 16.48.38

http://www.zefyrjewels.com.au

 

May 2014: For the next couple of months I attempted to juggle a combination of university, interning at Fashionizer.TV, interning at Zefyr Jewels, a social life and a relationship, as well as having a chronic illness on top of all of that and quite frankly, I couldn’t do it. It was proving more and more difficult for me to hold on to my life as I knew it and another great ME downfall had already begun. Those feelings of frustration and irritation escalated into exasperation and resentment. I began to hate everyone, to hate everything. At the time I had no idea why I was feeling this way, no idea whatsoever because clearly I was still in denial about having ME let alone the severity it had reached but I look back now and I know that subconsciously, I was jealous. I was really ******* jealous. My life was falling apart before my eyes and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. Every single day I watched others live their life as mine passed me by. Why me? Why not them? What did I do to deserve this? These are questions I asked myself on a daily basis, for months which later on, turned into years. Nothing made sense to me at the time. I was constantly being told that I’m living the life, I’m living the dream, how lucky I was to lead the life I had and at times I believed it but subconsciously I questioned – was I really? (I guess the saying you never know what goes on behind closed doors is perfectly apt for this situation) And now I finally know the answer to my question and it’s the simplest of them all… life isn’t fair. Life truely is not fair.

IMG_8992

Daniela and I at Fort Denison, a former defense site just outside Sydney Harbour.

12321489_139678646395770_7861596423254074121_n

Daniela and I at the Biennale of Sydney on Cockatoo Island.

 

June 2014: My downfall was escalating at a rate much faster than I’d ever experienced before. By the time my university term was coming to an end, I could barely make it in at all and one day when a friend questioned, “Where have you been you’ve not been in for ages?” I answered, “I’ve been in bed remember I told you I have ME.” She laughed as she responded, “Yeah right we all get tired so what have you really been doing?” I couldn’t deal with it. I couldn’t deal with her. Her ignorant question. The truth of what was happening to me. It was too much. I wasn’t ready to give up, to give in as I saw it. I still had that drive inside of me, that drive for life, to live it, to live it as much as I could for as long as my body would allow me. No matter how hard I tried to fight it though, to ignore it and push through, day after day ME was ever so slowly chipping away at my life, my abilities and everything I had ever loved. Before I was even diagnosed, it had already taken away my ability to work full time, then soon after my ability to work part time and now it was ultimately time for me to give something else up to ME. Now what would it be?

Interning at Zefyr Jewels only required me to be in the studio half a day a week as I was able to do most of the work from my bed, literally. That abruptly came to a halt when one fine day, during my weekly stroll to work, as I strived/endeavoured to climb the set of stairs that led to my destination on the other side, something switched in my body. The on switch was the switch that allowed me to walk but when that switch unexpectedly flipped, the off switch took that ability away. Hopelessly, I half crawled/half collapsed up those stairs, when an elderly man came over to me, concerned, worried almost, asking if I was okay, did I need some help? My reaction was something like this, “No thank you. There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m absolutely fine.” Yes sometimes my brain is actually delusional. I actually thought to myself, why is he asking me this?! I evidently still thought I was invincible and that my illness invisible. I made it to the studio, lasted an hour, returned home to bed and was never able to make it back again. Zephyr Jewels is what I gave up next and ME had made that decision for me. How far was I willing to push my body before I accepted the truth, the reality of my new situation and my new limitations? I still had no clue whatsoever how sick I had become and absolutely no clue for what was in store for me next.

 

July 2014: A combination of fashion and travel underpin most of my dreams in life and I had always intended to travel once the university term came to a close. I had been given two months. Two months to do whatever I liked. Two months to explore. The thing is, when that time finally came around, realistically I knew I was too sick to travel. I’d been in and out of the doctors like there was no tomorrow with my ME symptoms becoming more severe by the day. I knew I needed to return home. I knew I needed help. Each week as I Skyped my parents, I broke down in tears. Repeatedly saying I need to come home. I need to see a doctor. I need help and they sympathised with, “We know you’re sick. you have ME.” I just couldn’t convey to them how sick I had become. So much had changed in just a few months. It felt like I had been sucked into the vortex of a tornado with all these pieces violently swirling around me. Only I was getting sucked deeper and deeper and there was no way out. I couldn’t do it though. I couldn’t leave to return home. I would never forgive myself if I didn’t try, just to push myself to go a bit further, to live a little more. I knew if I didn’t carry on with this adrenaline fuelled journey, my body would crash and burn and then everything would change. Realistically I wasn’t going to return to the UK sooner than I had planned and if I chose to stay in Sydney I knew I was committing myself to two months in bed. I knew what I needed to do. I had to stop once and for all, to let my body recover from everything I had subjected it to but I wasn’t ready to put out that fire burning deep inside me, that drive to live life to the full. I wasn’t ready for my world to become so different to that one I desired and had sampled (you can probably tell from this paragraph of conflicting thoughts how torn I was; which road to take next, which one indeed)?

I made my decision and so I set off, on a new journey of exploration, adventure and discovery. This chapter began with a trip to the wild, wild west (okay no it didn’t I just wish it did for the sake of this story). Where we actually went was to The Blue Mountains, the rugged region, west of Sydney, still in the state of New South Wales. Known for it’s dramatic scenery, steep cliffs, eucalyptus forests and waterfalls; we were in absolute awe as we trekked our way along the bushwalking trails, through the sandstone rock formations and the mountains of the National Park. This was the most beautiful place I’d ever seen. As we made our way from the local town Katoomba up the mountain heading towards Echo Point, yes that’s right I was climbing a freaking mountain, each step I took became more and more difficult. I half stumbled, half staggered my way to the top (with A LOT of help) only to reach the top and feel so painfully ill I lay down for a while whilst trying to catch glimpses of The Three Sisters, the sandstone rock formation in sight… Oh did I mention I was doing this with a virus. A virus on top of ME. They takeover my life I swear. Would another chapter of my ME journey even exist if a nasty virus didn’t come out to play?

IMG_9131

The Blue Mountains.

A few days later and I soldiered on to my next destination, The Great Ocean Road on the South-East coast in the state of Victoria. Home to the famous 12 apostles and the Loch Ard Gorge, both situated in The Port Campbell National Park. This destination was even more beautiful than our last, which I didn’t think could even be possible. Along this great scenic coastal road we wound our way through waterfalls, surf beaches, resort towns and rainforests, up into coastal bushland only to be surrounded by wild king parrots and Koalas slumbering away in their natural habitat. Thankfully most of this trip was spent on the road (sitting down) with just a few pit-stops along the way. Sometimes I was able to venture out for a few minutes whilst at others it was just too much for my body to handle. I guess an ME body kind of picks and chooses what it’s capable of doing, leaving the person with no say in the matter and no control over it whatsoever.

IMG_9398

Louise and I on The Great Ocean Road.

Each place I travelled to appeared to be even better than the last. I was falling completely in love; no country I’d visited before was so vast so diverse and there was still so much left for me to explore. Our next stop Melbourne went on to be my newest favourite spot. Victoria’s coastal capital couldn’t be more different to Sydney. It was cool, contemporary, communal and had an art precinct I could have literally moved into there and then. I could see myself living here, building a life here, this was my kind of town. In my eyes, Sydney was too cosmopolitan, too business like, to me it was a stop over destination, not somewhere I could see my future.

I’m not too sure what happened to me in Melbourne but something changed, something else began to break inside my already broken body. Walking on flat ground was becoming more difficult as each day went by and climbing a flight of stairs had become virtually impossible. I remember one time, my friend uttering under her breath, “It’s so lazy to take the lift all the time”.

LAZY

SHE CALLED MEEEEE LAZY?!?!?

ME – LAZY?

WAS SHE EFFING SERIOUS?

Anyone who knows me knows that the last thing I am is LAZY. I mean c’mon, two years prior when I’d been diagnosed with ME, the medical professional who diagnosed me, told me to stop using stairs whenever possible because they were already proving to be a struggle. Two years before!

Then one day whilst strolling down one of Melbourne’s tree-lined boulevards, something snapped. It was if I was being held together by a tiny piece of string and that string finally snapped. I could’t walk anymore. I just couldn’t do it. I was too embarrassed to say anything so I conjured up a little white lie explaining how I had to meet someone or go somewhere so we arranged to meet back at the apartment later that day. However, I didn’t meet a friend. I didn’t go anywhere. I shamefully crawled into a taxi, crawled back home and crawled back into bed. My legs had given way. I could’t walk. I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t even be out of the bed.

Later that night I pretended to be okay. I pretended not to be sick. This is the way I had dealt with or more appropriately not dealt with ME for the last 7 months. It was my not so little secret and I continued to hide it from the world. During the entire time I was in Australia, not a single soul knew the severity of what I was hiding, I may have occasionally passed it off with, “I don’t feel well” or “I’m not up to doing that” but nobody knew the gods honest truth of how sick I had become. That night was also the first time I noticed the cognitive effects ME can have on the body. As we lay in bed watching the dark fantasy film, Maleficent, I just couldn’t do it. My brain as well as my body had begun to shut down. Memory loss, concentration difficulties, difficulty processing information were all symptoms of ME and I’m not talking on the level healthy people experience these things, I’m saying these symptoms actually limit your capabilities and prevent you from doing so many activities you never anticipated you would no longer be able to do. The first time a new ME symptom appears it can be daunting, terrifying almost because you have absolutely no idea what is happening to you, no idea how bad it will become so all you can do is hope for the best.

It actually pains me to say what I did next…

I went to the outback.

Yes I travelled to the outback.

As we touched down in Alice Springs, a remote town in Australia’s Northern Territory, 1500km from the nearest city and in the middle of the desert, I actually began to feel a little better. I’m beginning to notice a trend here, when I’m away from cities and I’m in remote outdoor places my symptoms aren’t as severe. Remember the same thing happened when I was in an Austrian ski resort the Christmas before? Does anyone know why this could be? That initial change didn’t last long because guess what I was in the outback for… to go on a hiking trip!!!! Why oh why do I do this to myself!!! Self destruction perhaps? Denial?

IMG_9565

Louise and I at a Katu Tjuta look out point in the outback.

IMG_9698

Charlotte & I camel riding in the outback.

IMG_9685

Three days and 20km later. Things weren’t looking good for me. I saw most of that trip through a blurred hazy vision, in a sort of altered reality, as if I wasn’t even awake, I was in a dream. My focus on the hikes wasn’t to take in the astonishing surroundings but to try my damned hardest to stay standing up, to stay conscious, whilst blocking out all of my 25+ throbbing symptoms as best as I could. My final hike was cut short and I returned to the van, slept for a few hours then woke up once again pretending I was absolutely fine whereas inside it felt like my body had been shattered into a million pieces.

How was it possible another destination could be as beautiful as the last? But it was, one of the most breath taking places I’ve ever been. Tracks tells the incredible true story of one women journey 1700 miles across the Australian outback from Alice Springs, past Uluru all the way to the Indian Ocean. It is possibly my favourite film of all time.

 

I had one last push left inside of me, one last attempt ready to be unleashed upon the world. You probably are wondering why? Why did I do this to myself? Why did I push my body to such extremes? Despite being a Libra and constantly striving for balance, my life has never really gone that way. Those of you who personally know me will know that I’m all or nothing, with no in-between. I can be intense, erratic and reckless at times. I live life beyond 100 miles per hour, or at least I used to. Once I set out to do something I did it to the upmost best of my abilities and I dedicated every single ounce of me that I possibly could with no giving up, no giving in along the way. No dream was ever unattainable, the skies were my limits and there was no stopping me.

That one last push was all my body could take and I saw my travels come to an end with a trip to the East Coast to sail around the Whitsunday Islands. I won’t go into details of how my health continued to decline because I would rather look back on my final trip with fond memories, not as a warning sign of what was to come. Looking back now it also makes me feel physically sick thinking about the way I treated my body and ultimately, the long term damage it caused me. I sometimes wonder, was it self-destruction? Is that another of my hard-edged personality traits?

The video below is a magnificent memento from our final trip. Showcasing some of the 74 Whitsunday Islands, which lie between the North East coast of Queensland and The Great Barrier Reef, this massive stretch of coral bursting with marine life was our playground for the week. Most of the islands are uninhabited so we island hopped between the dense rainforests, hiking trails and bewitching beaches. Whitehaven Beach is without a doubt the most breath-taking beach imaginable. Its pristine white silica sand is so pure its used to polish fine jewels and the crystal clear aqua waters ensure it’s a must-see spot. See for yourself with the video we filmed with a Go Pro below.

 

August 2014: On return to Sydney my capabilities were lower and my symptoms more severe than ever before. My body went to another level of shut down but I still wasn’t finished, I still wasn’t done with it. Seven days later and I pushed myself beyond belief to spend a couple of hours sitting down in a club (whenever I entered a club the first thing I would do would be to scan the room for a chair then panic if none were to be found – how had standing become such a daunting task?), with one drink and one cigarette only to spend another 7 days in bed and to do exactly the same thing a week later. This became my pattern for a few weeks, then one night everything changed. That switch that controlled my abilities flipped again. A few hours later my concerned friends found me out cold on a sofa. With one on either side, they carried me home, lifting my body weight off my legs as my body was too weak and too broken to stand and walk alone. I haven’t touched a drink or a cigarette since then. I also passed it off as I must have had too much to drink but deep down I knew this wasn’t the case.

I spent the next few weeks in bed, leaving the apartment once or twice at most. My shopping was done for me and food brought to me as I lay there so desperately waiting for relief. That relief never came and I was only forced to leave the apartment when it was time to return home to the UK. When we arrived at the airport, fear set in as I realised I can’t do this, I cannot walk around this airport. It’s no longer possible. I thought I must have a virus – this is what usually happened when I caught another virus wasn’t it? Things got worse before they got better, only this virus was MUCH worse than any I’d caught before. As soon as I sat in that wheelchair at the airport all I felt was relief and in some messed up way, filled with denial I actually thought – it’s ok I will never need to use one again it’s just this once. This didn’t turn out to be a virus though did it. This was ME and as I stepped out of that wheelchair and onto that plane my body was down to functioning at just above 30%. I no longer had moderate ME and I ever so slowly edged my way into the category of ‘Severe ME‘.

PS. Until I returned from Australia I really didn’t know ANYTHING about ME. I didn’t know about the CFS Functional Ability Scale. I didn’t know about the different severities you could have it. I didn’t know it could get worse. I didn’t know how bad it could honestly be. It’s only with hindsight that I can work out from looking at the scale how sick I was and how sick you can become, which is why I repeatedly say ‘at the time I had no idea’ because i really didn’t. I was completely ignorant about the illness and completely in denial the entire way through Australia about even having ME. Even though I say that ME is an invisible illness I do think that those close to me could tell I was sick by the way I looked in person and photos. The no make-up, no tan, no nails, I no longer had the energy to do anything that made me look like me so sometimes I looked at myself and sometimes I don’t even see me. As you can see living life with ME is a constant roller coaster of ups and downs and as I continue my journey I hope you learn and gain some understanding and awareness of ME, from sharing with me this ever so rocky ride.

 

Eye Of The Intern

So far i have shared three chapters of my story with you. You discovered how my ME symptoms developed in How It Began… Part I. I then shared the journey of my diagnosis in How It Began… Part II moving on to describe how I managed my first year of university with ME in How It Began… Part III. It is no longer the beginning as we are now half way through my voyage, I’m sure you will be pleased to know? Also BEWARE, some swearing exists in this post and I’ve politely substituted **** so fill in the gaps as you please!

September 2012: When I first moved to University for the Creative Arts (UCA) in Rochester, Kent, I had two plans: to flourish through my first year of university, which I can proudly say I successfully accomplished and to gain as much experience whist making as many contacts in fashion as possible, which is the tale I will share with you now.

When approaching the subject matters: INTERNSHIPS and CONTACTS, my initial thoughts were ****!!! How am I going to do this! I don’t know anyone in London and have no clue what the hell I am doing! We didn’t learn how to make contacts or how to get internships at school, or at college, even though I was studying fashion (it doesn’t make sense does it, shouldn’t this be part of the curriculum?). As always though, I was determined to succeed and to find a way to get my foot in the fashion door.

Fortunately, someone, somewhere must have been watching over me because almost immediately after moving to uni, when my mum attended one of her regular golf dinners, she discovered that her friend, Judy had some rather intriguing information, “Oh btw (Judy drops in the conversation casually) my sister works in the same building as a really famous fashion person.” My mums response was exactly the same as mine would be, “WHAAAAAT!! Find out who it is, now!”. This could be an extremely useful contact to have and it turned out to be no other than Sarah Doukas, founder of Storm Model Management and the women who discovered Kate Moss at JFK airport in 1988. OMGGGGGGG OMGGGGG OMGGGGGG it even turned out my mums friends sister, Sheron, was friends with her! What were the chances! That was it, we had to meet Sherron and find out more.

An impromptu meeting with Sherron at The Shop at Bluebird on the famous Kings Road in Chelsea had me nervous with excitement. It was sort of like going on a blind date, although my mum was also attending the date (awkward). Sherron used to run the Spa & Beauty area in the coveted concept store and introduced me to all of the staff who were simply fabulous. It was a marvellous afternoon and Sheron seemed to have many contacts to aid me through that ever revolving fashion door. These contacts included Gucci (ahhh hallelujah hallelujah) who are known for having an automatic delete system when people email them regarding internship opportunities and mine was being handed to them personally. This was it… definitely going to land my dream internship and then obviously get amazing job at Gucci and life will be made forever. That’s how this interning thing works right? It’s safe to say that I was a tad optimistic upon my big move to Kent/London because I never actually heard anything back from Gucci (insert crying emoji here). Oh well, onwards and upwards!

November 2012: Sherron was most definitely an angel sent from above. The Shop at Bluebird were hiring a visual merchandising intern and I had an interview for the position! It was straight down to business in the interview when the first thing that came out of the managers mouth was, “Before I worked here I worked at Prada’s Head Office in Milan. So, what do you do?” OH NO!!! What was I supposed to say, “I’m a 1st Year Fashion Promotion student at UCA?” WHAT HAVE I GOT MYSELF IN TO?!  I had seriously thrown myself into the deep end with this one. Feeling extremely frazzled, embarrassingly under-qualified  and completely overwhelmed, I without a doubt resembled Bridget Jones mid-major meltdown. All I could do was think fast so I turned the conversation back to when I first met her on my visit with Sherron and we bonded over our shared love of Tim Walker’s latest exhibition and complementary book stocked by the store. Thankfully she remembered me (imagine if she didn’t) and the fact I knew Sheron definitely lifted her sullen spirits… it was all laughs and giggles from then on! This is when the phrase ‘It’s not what you know, it’s who you know’ became a confirmation for me. The feedback was positively positive as they expressed their desire to take me on; although they needed me to work full-time and I couldn’t commit to that, so I had to pass on my first internship offer unfortunately. Although deep down a wave of relief came over me; at this starting point I was already terrified of how/if I would cope with an internship as well as uni whilst having ME. If you are a Made In Chelsea fan then you may have seen them filming at The Bluebird before, if not see for yourself this staggeringly stunning space. (images from Google)

The-Shop-at-Bluebird

January 2013: My next internship opportunity arose after I scrolled upon a friends Facebook status, shouting about how she had managed to secure internships at both Topshop Head Office and with the upcoming designer J.W. Anderson. She had no experience in fashion (unlike me), had never worked in retail (unlike me) and was in her first year at a notoriously bad fashion course in the North of England (unlike me). I had no idea you could get internships with so little experience/qualifications as I had been relying on contacts thus far so if she could do it then so could I. (Feel like a bitch for writing that but just observing the facts!) Considering she had already secured the internship, I kindly asked her for the contact email address at J.W. Anderson and suggested how exciting it would be if we interned there together. Unfortunately for her, she thought otherwise. She refused to give it to me and claimed she had spent days looking for it, her answer was strictly NO. What a BITCH. She was supposed to be my friend. Screw her… I’m going to find this email and get this internship myself! Within five minutes I had an internship with J.W. Anderson (not even exaggerating) and was hysterically screaming down the phone to my boyfriend, “I got my first internship!!!!!!!!!!!!” “I didn’t even know you were applying for internships?” he replied. “Neither did I until five minutes ago!”.

It turned out that my ‘friends’ university wouldn’t let her take time off to go to London to intern so I guess some call that Karma? Further down the line she had the audacity to come to me asking for my internship contacts and what was my response? Strictly NO. Double Karma?

Below I’m with the other J.W. Anderson interns on our way to the Womenswear Autumn/Winter 2013 show at London Fashion Week. (spot the blonde, that’s meeeee) You can read a blog post I previously wrote about interning at J.W. Anderson here.

image-5

At that point in time, the only people who knew about my ME were my immediate family and closest friends. I didn’t tell anyone at J.W. Anderson about it as I didn’t want to be treated differently to the other interns. I guess I was trying to contain it to my inner circle so if people didn’t know about it, it didn’t exist? Yes, I was still in denial and quickly became skilled at excuses and little white lies to cover my ME footsteps. It began on my first day of interning when I discovered we were expected to stay at the studio until 1/2/3am each night, only to return at 9am the next day. This was a highly unrealistic goal for me to achieve so I began to alter reality with ‘lies’ that couldn’t be mistaken for excuses as to why I couldn’t commit to these astonishing hours. I didn’t want to appear as if I didn’t care or that I wasn’t willing to work hard because I was, probably more than anyone, my body just wouldn’t let me. Deep down I must have been acknowledging the ME because of the adjustments I had begun to make to suit it, I just wanted to keep it my little secret.

June 2013: The severity of ME is measured by your functional ability level (see below). This is how I know whether my ME is improving, maintaining the same level or in this scenario, worsening. It had been six months since I first interned at J.W. Anderson and I found myself interning there once again. Looking back now, a significant deterioration must have happened in that period of time because this time around, I found interning almost impossible. I went from functioning at 70% to 60% and I continued to tell no-one at J.W. Anderson about my M.E. My inner circle was as tight as ever, the secret was bound by strong ties and I continued to blog showing no clue to what was going on behind closed doors.

Screen Shot 2015-09-07 at 10.17.33

click on image to enlarge

In my blog post about interning at J.W. Anderson the second time around, I initially wrote about returning to J.W. Anderson to work on both the Menswear Spring/Summer 2014 collection and the Womenswear Resort 2014 collection but only one collection was mentioned in my post.

After the Womenswear Resort 2014 collection was complete and the lookbook had been shot, it was time to move onto the Menswear Spring/Summer 2014 collection. I had worked at J.W. Anderson for the lead up to fashion week before so I knew what was expected of us. Mentally I was ready for it and physically I thought I could only assume I was ready for it. It had only been six months since the last show so surely I could do it again, couldn’t I?

As show day drew nearer, the nights got longer and with every twenty-four hours that went by, I pushed my body, I forced it to function and I demanded from it every ounce of strength it could give. We worked from 9am until on average 2/3 am, seven days a week with not a minutes break (you ate lunch on the go) and it got to the point where the staff were even asking us to stay on their sofas, not far from the studio in Dalston so we spent less time travelling back and forth from our own places.

I knew things were coming to an end when one evening I was told I had to sprint to the nearest Tesco (it was midnight and about to close) because Jonathan wanted cigarettes and he wanted them NOW. But Jonathan wasn’t in the studio working was he, he was out to dinner with friends at a local Dalston restaurant. Were they serious? Were they actually asking me to do this? I didn’t have time to think, I had to leave there and then to make it in time and god forbid what would have happened if I didn’t. Fired maybe? There was an army of interns at the front door desperate to take my place (yes the fashion industry really works like this). Upon arriving at local hipster restaurant, I expected some sort of gratitude for doing this, especially considering I was doing this for FREE after all! But no, I didn’t get it and I didn’t even get an acknowledgement when I put the cigarettes right in front of him. He continued his intimate conversation with super stylist Benjamin Bruno as if I hadn’t almost killed myself to do this for him (of course he had no idea of my ME, that is beyond the point though). I walked straight out and never went back! Well, actually I wish that was the case – It seemed the iconic fashion film ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ was becoming my reality.

My friends and family called my experience of interning ‘slave labour’ and couldn’t understand why I was doing it to myself but I knew that is how most interns in the fashion industry are treated and if you didn’t do it then you would be replaced almost instantaneously, have no experience on your CV and you would never get a real-life paid job (yes they do exist). I found myself in a familiar territory, torn between my career and my health. I didn’t have to make the decision though because my body decided for me when it took ME to a whole other level. When I woke the following morning and placed my feet firmly on the floor, the excruciating pain shooting through them up and around my entire body was indescribable and unbearable to the point where I couldn’t stand and most certainly couldn’t walk. What on earth was happening to me??? The pain had been building up over a period of weeks, as was the difficulty I found walking. I really thought I had somehow seriously injured my feet and knew that this was the final straw. I dosed myself up on painkillers and hobbled to the studio, collapsing on arrival whilst explaining my injury and how I could no longer intern there. I packed up my London life once again to return home and found with complete bedrest the pain was completely gone within a week. There was absolutely nothing wrong with my feet, it was my body telling me it couldn’t take anymore, it wasn’t just the final straw for me, it was the final straw for my body and it told me this by not allowing me to walk. I had been masking pain for over a year, by taking on average twelve-fifteen painkillers in order to get me through each day until my GP explaining how dangerous this is so don’t do it fellow spoonies! (A spoon is anyone who suffers from a chronic illness, explained here). I now know that pain is a warning sign if you have ME, it is a dialogue between you and your body, listen to itThese are some of the wisest words I have ever heard when it comes to ME but hindsight is a wonderful word and will feature many times in the life of ME sufferers.

You are not going to believe what I am about to tell you but I’m going to tell you anyway. Just two weeks had gone by since I had left J.W. Anderson and moved my entire life back home to Staffordshire when I received a phone call from my friend (well another contact made through my mum and the golf club) she was Head of Marketing and Social Media at Religion Clothing and asking me to intern for them. I am crumbling whilst writing this… you probably know me well enough by now to know what I do when an opportunity of this sort arises. Do I say NO or do I say YES? Writing this blog has helped me piece my ever so complicated ME puzzle together into a journey I now understand and looking back, all I’m thinking is what the **** **** **** was I thinking?

I’m actually shaking my head to myself whilst writing this. You can read more about my experience interning at Religion Clothing here. Feeling very angry at myself right now!

I will try and keep this one short and sweet because I’m starting to sound  like a broken record! I am proud to say that I approached this internship differently to the last by negotiating my hours to ensure that I would ‘only’ be working 9am-6pm, I would have the weekends off and I would solely be working in the Head Office and not running around London. I even told them about my ME (big move here guys) so i wouldn’t have to do anything strenuous in the office. The first day could have been a sign for what was to come but for once I can happily say that it wasn’t (SMILEY FACE). As soon as I arrived at the office, I was asked to return to my new home in London to retrieve my laptop… for anyone else this wouldn’t have been a problem but for someone with mild-moderate ME the thought of walking another ten minutes was absolutely dire so I ran home in five, got straight into bed for another five, before hauling myself back to the office. There was no way I was going to cope if this was only the first day but by some sort of miracle, I actually lasted three months at this internship! This was a HUGE achievement for me, smirking, proud faces all around.

At Religion I worked in the sales showroom, learning how to sell the collection to buyers (including my personal favourite ASOS). There was just one other intern and two paid staff working in the showroom so there was much more opportunity to ‘prove myself’ compared to J.W. Anderson where I had fifteen other interns to compete with to ‘stand out’. I swiftly rose to the challenge, beginning by inputting orders into the system, moving on to observing how the collection is sold to the buyers, then to assisting the meetings and then onto actually taking the meetings myself, which I’m sure wasn’t part of the internship role! The opportunity to do so came about when my boss hired another intern who he met in a bar (not even joking) and then began dating her, whisking her away for lunches, which turned into afternoons and days off so I was left to take his meetings with the buyers! I used this opportunity to my full advantage and learnt more than I ever expected to but when the three month mark came by, I realised that I was actually doing his job, the job he was getting paid to do and I wasn’t. There comes a point whilst undertaking an internship when you realise there is nothing else you can learn from it and this is the point where you decide to move on. I am delighted to say that I left this internship by choice and not by the choice of my ME.

September 2013: Shortly after meeting super Sherron, she sent Storm Model Management my CV inquiring about internship opportunities for me, which I had no idea about until they emailed me asking me when I wanted to intern for them………… Can you imagine my face when I received this email. I actually thought it was a mistake because interning at Storm is HUGE. There was a year-long waiting list and a rota of two new interns each week, most who got on the list due to the ever so important term ‘contacts’, which is exactly how I got on the highly esteemed ‘list’. A year later and it was my time to shine. I was lucky enough for it to be during London Fashion Week, which for obvious reasons is the most exciting time to be at a modelling agency.


storm-model-management-ltd.main

into-storm-model-management-3-1025x683

The day-to-day tasks in the Storm office (images above from Google) were as expected; updating the models’ portfolios; online and offline, as well as assisting with their polaroid shoots. It was fashion week though so I spent most of my time multi-tasking, eaves dropping on the conversations happening around the office for all the insider fashion week info! As London Fashion Week was coming to a close and it was time for the models to move on to Paris Fashion Week, the office was sent into a state of frenzy when Cara Delevingne lost her passport and missed her flight to Paris for the Louis Vuitton show! The entire office was in meltdown, everyone had to stop what they were doing and ring everyone Cara knew, this was a code red EMERGENCY. It turned out that she had left it at Adam Levines house, WHAAAAAAT?? Who knew they were even friends (or more) ??

Cara is a BIG DEAL at Storm, she is the money maker and probably the most coveted model in the world right now. Each day we received hundreds of deliveries of goods for Cara to endorse, so much so that the entire office was bursting with boxes for her and the interns had to make regular trips to her home to deliver her goodies!

There was one moment during that manic week, which really stood out as a moment of pure happiness. The Burberry show was being live streamed into the office, the entire Storm team crowded round, each one of us filled with the same excitement only fashion lovers can understand, whilst Storm models were front and centre, gliding down that oh-so-important runway. Burberry is the most important and established show at London Fashion Week so when Sarah Doukas and her brother Simon (partner of Storm) returned from the show to tell us every little detail and Simon went on to discuss with me one-on-one, Christopher Bailey’s (Chief Creative and Chief Executive Officer at Burberry) aesthetics for the season, I knew that is where I was meant to be, I had never felt more at home.

I am sad to say that the fun at Storm didn’t last long when once again I was struck down with a nasty bout of flu. Catching a virus or infection when you have ME is one of the worst things that could possibly happen to you as the effects can be extremely detrimental to your already severely impaired body. The last time I caught a virus was in July 2015  after I had been spending time with family members unaware that two of them had what healthy people would consider, “just a cold”. When I found out, I went into extreme panic mode as I knew how sick a virus could make me (if you have read my previous blog posts you will understand). I was horrified when the person with the cold actually had the audacity to say to me “just drink some carrot juice and you will be fine, that’s what I did”. I could not believe these words actually came out of their mouth. I was raging with anger but had no energy to explain to them how what they said couldn’t be further from the truth and they should never say that to someone with ME ever again. Two weeks later and where was I? In an ambulance, being rushed to hospital because my ME had become so severe I lost complete use of my arms and legs, partial temporary paralysis is what was happening to me.

Let’s rewind quickly – As you can imagine, after the virus hit me whilst I was at Storm, I didn’t last much longer. I ended up becoming a fly on the wall, unable to talk, think, move or make any sort of impression whatsoever. I doubt they would ever take me back or even remember who I was. This is the first dream ME took away from me and I was down to a level of functioning at just 50%.

There were brighter days ahead though so lets fast-forward a few months after Storm to December 2013:

HELLO AUSTRIA! As soon as the Christmas holidays arrived, I hopped on a plane to the winter wonderland ski resort, Bad Kleinkirchheim (BKK) to visit my ski-instructor boyfriend, who spent the Winter seasons abroad living out his ski-ing dream. During the four weeks that I spent there, I saw enormous improvements in my ME to the point where I was able to walk for miles from our tiny hamlet Rottenstein (see below) to the centre of BKK almost every day and feel good for it! I could even ski for a couple of hours each day without the same levels of cruel payback which I had experienced the year before whilst visiting him in Canada. I wonder why I made such a huge improvement at this point in time? Does anyone have any ideas?

image_1 image_2 As always, I decided to take advantage of this so I applied for the next round of internships as we were coming up to the London Collections: Men, also known as mens fashion week. I managed to secure an internship at the then up and coming urban label KTZ, which I was more than excited about after taking a few months break from interning. Typical ME though and I was struck down by another virus as the New Year was ringing in, leading me to white lie once again, telling KTZ I couldn’t make it back in time to work for the week before the show and I would only be able to attend show day (due to weather and flights etc blah blah), when I actually needed to go to bed for a week in order to make it through show day! I somehow managed to drag myself through show day, read more about it here by desperately counting down the minutes until I could crawl back home and collapse into bed. I even turned down an invite to the after-party, what on earth was my life coming to, turning down a fashion party?!?! This virus pushed me even further down the CFS Functional Ability Scale, just as I was about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime… an 8 month university exchange to the opposite side of the world, the wonderful land of OZ. Can you predict what happened next?

Thanks for reading my blog (WordPress seriously needs to get emojis so I can insert a huge smiley face here!) I know that this is a lengthy post, I’m trying to catch you up to the present day as fast as possible. By then the posts will be short and sweet I promise. I’ll be back with the next chapter as soon as soon as my body lets me!

Backstage at London Collections: Men

For this fashion season (menswear) I worked at Kokontozai (KTZ) Autumn/Winter 2014 for London Collections: Men (LCM)…

On the day of the show I woke in the early hours of the morning with a mixture of fear and excitement, the adrenaline was enough to stop me from returning to my dreamy sleep. Up I bounced when I realised I had no idea what I was going to wear (the same as most days but today was not any old day). After quickly visualising an outfit using the rules we had been sent from KTZ – all black, no jewellery and no excessive make-up, I attempted to slow myself down so I wasn’t a nervous wreck waiting for two hours until it was time to leave. My plan didn’t go too well because I was even ready before Ugly Betty was due on (it must have been early).

I still didn’t want to be waiting around for hours so I hopped on the tube, eager to explore the show space and its surrounding area. At Russell Square I admired the beautifully grand Russell Hotel, which brought back fond memories of my mother and I nosy-ing around the hotel to get a good look at the famous guests during the times she resided here. I arrived at Bloomsbury Square, greeted by the ornately traditional building Victoria House, which was also the KTZ show space. After trying to worm my way in through the front entrance to get some sneaky snaps of the fashion lot waiting for the shows, I was kindly escorted by a man who resembled Liam Neeson in Taken, all suits and ear pieces in tow, to the backstage entrance which was full of other young fashion interns stumbling their way around.

You can tell who the other dressers are because they look no older than 18, legs crossed, arms folded, usually about twenty or so of them and every one of them are standing their in silence. Awkward to say the least. I can’t stand these awkward silences between new interns so I introduced myself to two pretty Asian girls, one from Singapore who is studying Creative Direction at LCF and the other from China who is studying Lingerie Design at De Montfort. It’s rare you meet other interns at shows that don’t study design (I study Fashion Promotion) so I was pleasantly surprised to see that for once I wasn’t the only intern lacking in the design credentials. Another intern had come from interning at Columbia Records who had decided ‘to give fashion a go’ and a cutesy wutsey pigtails girl from Poland who I shared stories with about my trip there last summer. Communicating with interns is the only way you find out the secrets of the fashion world. You either get interns who are too proud of the people they work for to slate their bosses (you will never hear me say a bad word about J.W Anderson) or those who tell more than their fair share, on this particular occasion I was warned to NEVER intern at PPQ.

Anyway on with the show ! I know that on show day you have to expect to be shouted at, a lot (for doing nothing wrong). To be very confused because you have 10 different people telling you ten different things and to stand around waiting for an unusually long time watching everyone else run around whilst feeling very useless, until you are bombarded with hundreds of tasks at once. There is pressure, a lot of it. No one wants to be the intern that screws up on show day. Three models were assigned to me, all equally as good looking as the next. Ladies man Tom from Cambridge (Kate Moss’ latest playboy shoot was his screensaver), the one with the beard (hipster or what..) and Jacob from Texas (my personal favourite). There was a lot of charming going on and the typical ‘oh my god I love your accent.. it’s so British.. you know because your British do you wanna come to the after party with me..’ In my head my response was something along the lines of, ‘oh my gosh yes I would absolutely love to go with you but I have this really boring thing called uni tomorrow because we don’t all live a glam life like you’ but out came a feeble laugh and my poor attempt at changing the conversation.

Despite all the glamour, I couldn’t think of a worse job than to be a model. I actually felt sorry for them having to wait in a room the size of a classroom, 200 people over capacity, whilst they were head to toe in Arctic furs. One of my models had five workers simultaneously fanning him so he didn’t pass out on the runway. Others complained of the heavy silver body paint, the lack of water, the high temperatures and having to replace their current contact lenses with black ones. Great ! Blind models were being sent down the runway ! The clothes aren’t to my usual taste but that doesn’t mean I’m not obsessed with them. The entire KTZ team was dressed head to toe as if they had just stepped out of the latest street style blog. I don’t think the dress code applied to them seeing as most of them wore twenty pairs of eyelashes, studs coming out of every piece of skin available and layers of printed clothing over more studs ! After dressing all three of my models and blowing in their faces to cool them down (yes I actually did that) the show went by in a heart beat; the heavy base blasted through the walls as we watched the army of Arctic Warriors pace onto the runway with light bulbs flashing in every direction. (We were lucky enough to watch the show on a giant screen backstage). After the founder took his long awaited bow, claps of joy and generous hugs filled the crowd. Emotions were running high and before we knew it, it was all over again until next season. The crowds dispersed, models left for Milan, hair and make up teams moved on to the next show and the KTZ team were given five minutes to evacuate the area before Nasir Mazhar moved in. All in all it was a wonderful day, I even spotted my favourite blogger Alice Point ( http://alicepoint.com/ ) on the front row. KTZ kindly invited me to return for the women’s show in February but I will be half way across the world by then preparing for Sydney Fashion Week !

Take a look below at the three fabulously monochrome looks I dressed: Look 5, Look 26 and Look 37..

GYG_5170.450x675

GYG_5515.450x675

GYG_5689.450x675

To see the full collection visit..

http://www.style.com/fashionshows/complete/F2014MEN-KTZ

and make sure you follow KTZ on Instagram @kokontozai and Twitter @ktz_official to see the likes of Cara Delevinge, Rihanna and Kanye West endorsing the brand.

Religion Clothing Intern Opportunity

      Only a week after moving my entire life from my flat in Camden back home to my countryside barn conversion in Staffordshire, I found myself back down South in London, the day after attending one of Cambridge’s notorious Summer balls. Whilst attempting to pull myself together for the evenings occasion, I received a phone call from the head of Marketing and Social Media at Religion Clothing asking me to intern for them.
     Funnily enough, I had worked with this girl at my local golf club back home in Staffordshire when I was fourteen years old and had met up with her when I moved to London the year before to ask for her advice on internship opportunities so when I received the phone call I didn’t know whether to be over the moon or break down in tears at the thought of interning again after the experience I had at J.W. Anderson. She wanted me to meet the Head of Sales within the hour but due to how I felt and looked from the night before I expressed that this wouldn’t be the best idea. I was on a time limit anyway as I was taking my friend to see Aluna George at Electric Brixton for her birthday that evening (aren’t I a good friend!) so the meeting was post-poned to the following morning.
      The Head of Sales told me I would be starting on Monday (it was a Friday), which gave me two days to find somewhere to live in London. I had JUST moved back home the weekend earlier so I was apprehensive to tell my parents they had to do the big move all over again! The only problem was that I had to be at home for the weekend as I was doing a photoshoot for singer Alexandra Jayne so how on earth was I supposed to find somewhere to live? Fortunately I knew someone who had a spare room available for rent just a ten minute walk from Religion HQ.
      I had somewhere to live and now I had to wait/dread to see what the working hours would be. Today was my first day and lets just say working in PR is a lot less stressful than working in a pattern cutting studio/for a designer. Since the brand, Firetrap dissolved, Religion Clothing has been the go to brand for many stockists; so my day consisted of phoning Firetraps old stockists to get them on board and buy Religion Clothing… that is all I can tell you for the moment but hopefully I will be able to tell you more about the brand and what goes on inside a show room soon!

J.W. Anderson here we go again!

      So now I have finished my first year of university and I have the entire Summer ahead of me so what better to do than gain some more experience, working for free, YAAAAY. I already can’t wait for interning to be over so I can be in a paid job. Only two more years of uni to go and fingers crossed it will happen!
      I’m back interning at J.W. Anderson and this time we are working on the womenswear Resort 2014 collection and the menswear Spring/Summer 2014 collection. In the six months since I last interned here, they have moved to a much bigger studio and the staff have tripled in size. I thought this meant they were doing a little better and would be relying on interns less but this was not the case. As the company had grew, the demands became even higher than before and interning was even crazier than the last time.
      This week has been as I expected, long crazy hours running from factory to factory. Some people think I’m insane for working the hours we do but it is worth it when you get to see the collection go down the runway, taking the fashion world by storm. Some of the highlights of my first week have included going to Selfridges Head Office to deliver garments for a photo shoot which was exciting seeing behind the scenes of Selfridges and observing how it is run. Other bonuses include working in the studio next to the band, The Horrors and eating lunch with them on the studio roof tops but the best part of my week is continually seeing fashion designer, Simone Rocha around the studios !
      My favourite part was seeing the finalised Resort 2014 and getting to watch Jonathan and his stylist Benjamin Bruno do the fittings on German model Josephine Van Delden, which is where the collection really came to life. Johnathon is obbsessed with Japanese minimalism, using its wrapping and folding techniques. Jonathan continues to push boundaries but still makes the clothes relatable and wearable, which is where he finds his success.