Rocking London

What a week! I was really looking forward to a chillaxed, laid back autumn, and so far I have not got it. It's all good though - London is being pretty awesome to me right now.

Where did all the bad stuff go? Is it just that I'm really happy, and it's not visible through my rose-tinted glasses?

The sun has been shining, it's hardly been cold, and everything seems merry. Not just in my little corner of London, either. I did venture into town this weekend - I was even brave enough to venture onto Oxford Street. Only the stretch between Regent Street and Bond Street of course. Turning the 'other way' out of Regent Street pretty much equates to peering down into the fires of hell, with the threat of falling always imminent. I try not to turn the 'other way', ever.

Beautiful Oxford Street...the good end. Image: Flickr/diamond geezer

So I went into town for coffee with an old friend, which was a lot of fun, and to do a spot of shopping, which was also fun, even though I had to do it in a very head down, don't look up, don't stop way. I roared through Topshop on a mission, pausing only to assault a young sales assistant with my hastily barked directive of 'Hi. Can you please point me in the direction of the plain singlets?' before grabbing two of the aforementioned tops, dashing through the till area (although I did pay) and making my way up to street level again. Experiences in Uniqlo and H&M were much the same. In Jones I relaxed a bit and tried on the shoes before buying, even walking round the shop a bit to test their comfort (I think this means I'm getting old. Was a time that comfort meant nothing to me, and looks were enough. You'll be glad to know, they fit like a dream).

The reason for this utilitarian approach is because I have a plan. A wardrobe clearout a few weeks ago felt really really good, but may have been completed with too much enthusiasm, and now I really don't have many clothes. Good for the soul, but not for the body that needs coverage in this fast becoming wintrier climate. So in order to replenish, I had to sit down and work out what I actually needed, as otherwise there's a good chance I would wind up with six nearly identical, pretty, silky dresses, countless pairs of tights, a handful of scarves, and no knitwear at all.

Problem is, it's just been London Fashion Week, and it's getting to me. Not because I've been frequenting the front rows, although I really wish I could pretend I have been (does reading the coverage in the Times every day count?) but because it seems to have pervaded the whole capital with an air of absolute shopping recklessness. And in response, or maybe it started this whole thing, who knows, almost everything on the high street is awesome.

It was like a dreamy alternate reality out there on Sunday, wandering up Regent Street in the warm sun, staring in the shop windows and occasionally venturing in, falling madly and dangerously in love with countless items, including, of course, many impractical, floaty dresses that I have no opportunity to wear anywhere. The street was strangely quiet for a Sunday, and now that summer is over, rather devoid of tourists. If you've ever wondered if tourists add any value to a street, I can assure you they don't.

I only knew it wasn't a dream because those annoying people with bubbles were still outside Hamleys. Do they get paid to do that job? I dodged them, but seriously - that bubble stuff stains.

Lucky for me that they were there really, otherwise there's a strong possibility I would have spent everything I have, thinking it was merely dream money and didn't count, much like money spent when you have PMS, or feel a bit fat. But I kept in control - I remembered that it was actual real money I was spending, and if it meant the shop assistants thought I was a bit crazy, or mean, it was worth it. I did come away with clothes I both really needed and that I do like, which kind of seems like the Holy Grail of fashion, but surely can't be. In the entire week's coverage of London Fashion Week, not once did the Times describe a collection as something both needed and liked.

Anyway, I'm happy, and that is what counts. I'm going to keep a strong grasp on this happiness. It's working for me, and it's working for London. Hey, it's working for my bank account! All is well.