At the Dover Street Market Market

Having been holed up at home for most of the bank holiday weekend with an evil chest infection that is still lingering on, I finally braved the outside world for the promise of affordable Lanvin.
The Dover Street Market Market was really quite something, and possibly goes down as my favourite sample sale yet. The first one took place two years ago at art dealers Phillips De Pury and was basically a way for DSM to shift its old stock in a fun, and relatively cheap, manner. They saved up enough stock to run the sale for three days and obviously did well enough out of it to want to do it again so have been squirriling away loads of Commes des Garcons (of course) as well as some of the other fine designer goods that have failed to shift on, or possibly never even made it on to, the shop floor.
The main bonus of this for me, aside from the clothes actually being vaguely within my price range and the event appealing hugely to my general love of market rummaging, bargain hunting and beautiful clothes, is that the sale takes place in much less intimidating surroundings than the actual DSM shop on Dover Street, which, as we have discussed before, is quite a scary place as far as I'm concerned.
Anyway, I was there on the final afternoon and worried that a lot of the best stuff would have gone. On the plus side the queue wasn't too long, on the minus side the queue was outdoors and it began hailing just as I arrived. Of course the sun came out just as I was about to step inside.

The queue

The queue's shoes

The queue jumper

Inside was a treasure trove but sadly my camera battery died so I can't prove it to you.
I spent three hours rummaging through and trying on and more money than I could afford, naturally. No Lanvin, and sadly a number of gorgeous Boudicca dresses were still too expensive even at 80% off. The saddest moment of the day was giving up on a pleated pale chiffon goddess dress by Giambattista Valli  which would have necesseitated having a rib or two surgically removed if I was ever going to get it to fasten all the way up. Realistically it was too expensive anyway, and also very very impractical. One of those occasion dresses you fall in love with even through you know that you are deeply unlikely to ever be invited to that kind of occassion (for me this is summer weddings - I have never ever been invited to one but have at least two 'summer wedding' dresses).
But I did come out with a beautiful bright red, knee length, stiff silk YSL for Dover Street Market skirt with round pockets on the front and a tie string waist (£80), a swishy short Alma Aguilar black skirt with a thick balck velvet wasitband tied with a bow (£60) and a transparant, beautifully light and palest pinky lavender Phi (RIP) top (£20), all of which I completely love. And there was no fighting, no flinging of clothes and no elbowing.
I wish all sample sales were as civilised and successful as that.

Acne comes to Dover Street

I have to confess to having been too intimidated by the uber-coolness of it all to attempt to actually go into Dover Street Market.
I know that for a London fashion-fan this is a bit like being a political journalist that has never voted or a plane spotter that has never been to Heathrow airport, but seriously that place is scary.
However, the street it is on is rapidly turning into an intriguing destination for people like me - sort of like Bond Street's younger sister who has just come back from five years spent moving between Paris, Berlin and the best bits of Scandinavia after a brief stint in Japan.
And now I think it might be about to come my own personal nirvana, because Acne are preparing to open a four storey flagship shop on Dover Street in July. Four whole storeys of Acne. That's four storeys of joy as far as I'm concerned.
Inevitably it will be another scarily cool place, so Liberty will remain my favourite shop as it is the least intimidating, most comforting shop in the whole world and smells of expensive lavender. But I have made a resolution. I will not be intimidated. I will face my fears. And I will even go into Dover Street Market.
This will probably all end in tears of some sort or other. Mr Bank Manager, you have been warned - perhaps you might want to stop offering me credit cards now?