Cara Delevingne’s London Fashion Week Diary

Hand over the baton, New York: it’s London’s turn to play host to all of fashion’s big names as London Fashion Week kicks off this weekend. And while we’ve yet to see which clothes make the headlines, it’s a safe bet that we know which model will be dominating.

Both on and off the catwalks, this LFW will be all about girl of the moment Cara Delevingne. Which is why we thought we’d muse over what the week would be like for her. What’s that in our cheek? Oh that would be our tongue...

Friday 13th September: ARGH! First day of Fashion Week and have woken up in a blind panic. Had hideous nightmare that Rita Ora shaved off my eyebrows, and Harry Styles stood there laughing and singing What Makes You Beautiful while she did it, and now I can’t get it out of my bloody head. Going to be totally awkward when I see them at PPQ tonight.

Saturday 14th September: Spent so much time checking my eyebrows are still there that I totally forgot to eat, so now trying to decide which of my two favourites to go and grab. It’s either McDonalds drive-thru or Nobu drive-thru. Nobu have a drive-thru, right? Oh f*** it, of course they do, I’m Cara Delevingne, model of the moment, everyone has a drive-thru for me.

[A beginner's guide to fashion week - your fun starts here]
[The 13 most shocking LFW moments ever]

Sunday 15th September: Eyebrow update: Still there, still having the recurring nightmare. I think I need to just level with Styles about our relationship status, it’s clearly playing on my mind ever since he tried to get a bit frisky when I passed him the Minstrels at Book of Mormon.

And when Rita plays her secret gig at the secret after party at the secret venue tomorrow, I’ve got to remember not to have too many vodkas/ Blue WKDs (bloody Gaz from Geordie Shore getting me onto those…) and steal her thunder again. We’ve only just started being #wifeys again, I don’t want another divorce, it makes things super awkward because we see each other all the time. I mean not in real life obviously, we’re barely in the same country, but on Instagram we see each other all the time.

Monday 16th September:
12pm: Walking for Burberry later. Should really have got out of bed earlier for Christopher Kane but something happened last night involving Gaz from Geordie Shore, some Blue WKD, an unexplained tattoo and me not having my shoes any more, and I’m not sure I can go and breathe alcopop breath on next season’s clutches. It just feels disrespectful to do that to a bag, d’you know what I mean?

6pm: Made it out of bed (Dorchester suite obviously, who stays at home during Fashion Week? Hideous) for Burberry. The fash pack are all tweeting that I’ve got a ‘totes awesome new walk’; the bloggers are calling it ‘The Cara Wobble’.

So basically, all you have to do to copy it is down shots of vodka out of Harry Styles’ belly button until 4am and then get up with the shakes and rush to Fashion Week and voila: the Cara Wobble’s all yours, baby. Walking early for Stella tomorrow, so will have sensible night in reading Vogue and Instagramming selfies of myself reading Vogue.

Tuesday 17th September:
3am: I BLAME RIHANNA FOR THIS.

4am: I LOVE RIHANNA.

5am: RIHANNA IS MY WIFE.

7am: Ugggggggghhhhhhhh. Up to walk for Stella for Adidas and owing to getting ready in a hurry/ between vomits, I accidentally turned up in Nikes. Got papped, Stella kicked off… Fashion Week is such a DRAMA. To be honest I’m kind of looking forward to Paris now when I can detox (ie drink nothing but champers all week - y’know, just to cleanse.)