Fashion week is over and no one is reading this because everyone is sleeping (or they’re like “what the hell is The Twenties Club because I’m not paying for another gym membership”).

The last five days have been filled with killer clothes, inspiring young talent and if you were at Harman Grubisa, even a few tears – you’re a robot if that black fur coat with the metallic gold dress didn’t make you weep. For me, the most exciting thing about fashion week in general is that at every show the designer has the power to be an agent of change within the industry. They can choose to present their collection in whichever way they see fit and the clothes they send down the runway can influence people in a more profound way then we often realise.

Lucilla Gray brought back the 70s and created a runway set reminiscent of her grandmother’s living room, Miss Crabb filled a Link bus of models draped in liquid silks and bold lipstick, and Stolen Girlfriends Club, well they did what they do best – threw an epic show in a grungy nightclub followed by an after party that most people are still recovering from today. And yes, even at fashion week there are little (Chanel) pearls of wisdom to be found if only you keep your eyes and ears open wide.

Don’t give in to peer pressure. If fashion says you must ditch the black, go bold and go bright but funeral-dressing is your Achilles heel – you do you.

Being ill-mannered won’t get you ahead in life, and it definitely won’t get you in the front row.

If you are in the front row no one cares if you were meant to be in seat 24 or 37, just sit down, shut up and be grateful.

Always look for the silver lining under your seat. It might have snacks.

Speaking of snacks…never leave home without at least two that are small enough to hide up the sleeve of your oversized bomber or tucked down the side of your leather boots. (Too far? Kinda gross?)

The wider the flare, the less time you need to spend in the gym.

There is a time and a place for jandals in winter. That time is never and that place is in the trash.

Big sunglasses hide a multitude of sins.

The lower the heel the faster you’ll run. Chloe didn’t create those low-heeled scalloped leather pumps for no reason.

If you’re self esteem is lower than Donald Trump’s IQ then keep a good distance from the models at all time. I’d say six metres to be safe. So the length of the model’s legs basically.

Take care of your hands. Chipped nail polish is worse than wearing tog bottoms as underwear (guilty). Except everyone will notice and you never know who’s hand you might need to shake.

A well-tailored suit, for both men and women, will automatically take you from a 6 to an 8.

Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about learning how to run to your Uber in heels with out ruining your suede jacket that is dry-clean only.

Header Image by Holly Burgess for The Twenties Club