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A CRAFT moment at Margaret Howell

— by Alyson Walsh

The only time I don’t mind getting up at the crack of dawn on a Sunday, is when there’s a Margaret Howell show to go to. Always scheduled early morning in the Wigmore Street store. In my fantasy life, I wear head-to-toe Howell, write books and live in a Span House. At this week’s catwalk show, the vibe was easy-breezy British meets sixties St.Tropez. Think stripes, checks and straw trilbies for summer 2014.

After the show, a lovely That’s Not My Age fan spotted me in the fashion crowd. Yes, really. This is the second time that this has happened recently, and is both surprising and hilarious in equal measures.  Behold, the Power of the Blog. Cathy Johnson works part-time at the Margaret Howell shop in Rathgar Village, Dublin. Here she is decked out in Margaret Howell, of course, with her manager Fiona Cummins:

Fiona and Cathy.

They introduced me to Deidre McQuillan the fashion editor of The Irish Times who is incredibly lovely and chic and while we were chatting declared that she was prone to a CRAFT moment.  Eh? Came the unanimous reply.  ‘CAN’T REMEMBER A FUCKING THING.’ Brilliant. Love it. Now part of the TNMA vocabulary. Thank you, Deidre.

Have a lucid weekend – and a long Sunday lie-in.

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The only time I don’t mind getting up at the crack of dawn on a Sunday, is when there’s a Margaret Howell show to go to. Always scheduled early morning in the Wigmore Street store.