My favourite part of a really good catwalk show often happens about three minutes after the last model has walked down the runway. There is the bow, the applause and then, amid the general rush for the exit, a breakaway group battles backstage (an inelegant bunfight, this bit) to pin down the designer, and record their thoughts on a swarm of iPhones.
Sometimes, the chat is about Harris Tweed; sometimes it’s about David Hockney. Sometimes it’s hard to tell, in the backstage din. One time, I thought Miuccia Prada said her collection had been about democracy and another paper’s fashion editor thought she had said it was about moccasins. Could very easily have been either.