Words by

Alyce Cowell

Ladies and gentlemen, we have almost arrived at the magical time of year that is SYDNEY FASHION WEEK.

Or MFBAW, as we say in the biz. No wait, MBAFW. No……….. MBFWA? Yeah, MBFWA.

I remember my first fashion week like it was yesterday. Instagram was but a twinkle in our eye, everyone wore their own clothes (like, from their wardrobe) and people still took notes with pen and paper.

For those of you under the age of 20, pens and paper are two historical pieces of equipment used for writing. You would think of what you wanted to note, then use your pen to write it onto the paper. Totes time-consuming, but kinda retro, right?

Anyway, now that we live in the wonderful world of the future and wear metallics like it ain’t no thang, things are a little diff. This is mainly due to the ’gram. 

You really don’t need to go to MBFWA anymore because it’s all right there on your screen. You could literally tell people that you went, and even if they quizzed you, they’d never know that you’re lying. From about a week before the big event, our feeds start filling up with Fashion Week ‘prep’ until the week finally begins in all its sequiny, champagny glory, where the posts just don’t stop.

But have you noticed that all the posts are legit exactly the same? Is there some kind of code? Are rulebooks handed out in gift bags now, to ensure bloggers are only posting one of 10 images?

For those of you heading to MBAFW (MBFWA – dammit), I ask you two questions:

  1. Please try to be a little creative in your ’grammin, for the sake of us at home, lying on the couch and eating Nutella straight from the jar. 
  2. Can you steal me a goodie bag?

Here are the obligatory posts we’ll be spammed with next week. If I don’t see all of these, every day, I will literally die of shock.


It all begins with #bloggermail. If you’ve read any of my previous stories on Fashion Journal, you’ll know this is just my favourite word in the world. 

To break it down, #bloggermail is the term us bloggers affectionately give the packages we receive that are full of free goodies. You’ll open up the parcel, and go through each piece one by one, so others can live vicariously through you and cry in the privacy of their own homes.

The how-on-earth-will-I-pack-for-Fashion-Week post

Once the clothing has been delivered, it’s time to pack. GROAN. 

This post usually features a messy bedroom, littered with slogan tees, studded heels, leather jackets, designer bags, felt hats and other Fashion Week-y items. I suspect some of these have been placed there, nicely, on purpose. It’s usually accompanied by a caption, lamenting that they have to pack (even if it’s for the most glorious week of the year).

Needless to say, it’s paramount that you get the outfits right because you can bet your bottom dollar there’s gonna be cameras allllllll up in your grill as soon as you walk in. 

The “Let’s do this Sydney!” post

Congratulations – you’ve made it to Sydney! 

From here you usually have a couple of choices on what to post to announce your all-important arrival:

  1. Clouds in the sky from your plane window 
  2. A selfie in the Uber 
  3. Coffee / smoothie / lunch flatlay at the nearest cafe
  4. A tour through your hotel room

The Fashion Week Essentials post 

No blogger is ready until her fashion week essentials have been collected, arranged in a flatlay, photographed and then packed into her clutch. 

Generally these items are the same – iPhone, lipstick, media pass, camera, and sunglasses so big, so statement-y, they’re only appropriate at Fashion Week. 

If you’re super organised, this might be shot at your breakfast table with pastries, espresso and fresh strawberries to decorate (where did you get those from?) as you fuel up for a big day. 

The shoefie post

Your #ootd commitments are complete, you’ve jumped in an Uber, and you’ve finally made it to Fashion Week. Praise the fashion gods. 

It can be extremely intimidating as you walk down the stairs (remember all those cameras that are up in your grill) so if you’ve come alone, it’s imperative to find your squad immediately. From here, you’ll all stand in a circle and snap your shoes from above because it’s Fashion Week and obviously your shoes are hella fabulous.

The “Look who I found in the frow!” post

The show is about to commence, so you head inside to be given your seat. As someone who has had the pleasure of sitting both front row and somewhere after the second row, I can tell you the former feels damn good.

For the entire show, while I’m meant to be looking at the farshun, I’m looking at the people sitting directly opposite me. I’m wondering if they’re a Rich Kid of Instagram and am dying to know what’s in my goodie bag, but playing it too cool to check (let’s be honest, probably hairspray). 

Whether you’re inside, or following along from home, one thing is for certain. A blogger will post an Insta Story showing themselves seated next to someone else and say, “look who I found!” as they both pout and wave at the camera. 

The problem is, nobody knows who that second person is. (Maybe a Rich Kid of Instagram).

The runway finale Boomerang

I think we can all agree not many people actually go to the show anymore to see what’s trending or what’s coming out this season. 

Still, the Insta Stories of the runway are plentiful and they always finish with the finale, Boomerang style. Natch. 

The pouting story after three champagnes post 

After the party is the after party, and this is where sh*t gets juicy. People are gettin’ drunk. The iPhones are comin’ out. 

It’s at this point that people start seeing their iPhone as a mirror, instead of an Insta story: smiling, sipping, winking and pouting for the camera. Over and over again. 

But then, I don’t blame them. When you haven’t eaten since that pastry this morning and you’re running on five prawns and sixteen glasses of free champagne, I’d be drunk too. My iPhone would definitely be coming out, too (but most likely to order a cheese pizza).

I can already feel the embarrassment as they watch their own story back the following morning. 

Illustration by Twylamae

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