London Fashion Week (LFW) has always sat at the crossroads of heritage and cutting-edge style—a heady mix of global designers, runway drama, and the city's own unpredictable spirit. As a photographer accustomed to editorial shoots and street style, earning a press pass for my first LFW seemed the apex achievement. Yet nothing truly prepared me for the sensory overload: the whirr of cameras, the swirl of fabrics, and ever-resourceful photographers staking their fleeting claims on each perfect moment. Here’s my unfiltered account, peppered with practical tips, honest realizations, and the fashion insider tricks no one tells you.
Weeks before the event, my living room turned into a makeshift gear lab. My prized DSLR—usually reserved for editorial portraits—lay beside a cluster of prime and zoom lenses. The debate between hauling a 70–200mm versus my stealthy 50mm would define the coverage I could achieve. Battery packs, SD cards, monopods? Check, re-check.
Everywhere online, seasoned fashion photographers emphasized minimalism, but at what cost? The tension between flexibility and agility grew intense:
I also did my homework. Downloading the LFW schedule, mapping out the show venues (sometimes scattered between Somerset House and trendy Soho locales), and connecting with a handful of other press photographers over Instagram DMs proved critical. The right introductions, I quickly found, often happened before you flash your first press pass.
On the first morning, Somerset House buzzed with celebrity stylists and models brushing past security, their earpieces and clipboards forming invisible velvet ropes. Success in LFW photography begins before the runway lights flick on—with patience, craftiness, and guts.
Freshly minted lanyard swinging, I squeezed past PR reps guarding narrow staircases. Despite my press pass, I was initially corralled to standby zones; the seasoned regulars already occupied their claimed corners.
Backstage life revealed fashion’s frenetic reality: models slipped into couture with the help of nimble dressers, hair stylists invented gravity-defying creations, and make-up artists performed ten-minute miracles. In every corner, stories unfolded.
Tip: Always ask before you shoot close-up portraits backstage. A respectful, soft-spoken request yields friendlier energy in your frame—and frequently opens doors for more candid moments.
At one point, I shadowed a creative director composing a final fitting. The texture of raw fabrics, tight focus on a sequined sleeve, and the laughing chaos as misplaced shoes were recovered from beneath a rack—these unscripted moments outshined any posed shot. My advice: set your camera to silent mode and skip the on-camera flash; authenticity will reward your patience.
The main event. Charging into the photographer’s pit for my first runway show, I juggled nerves with excitement. The pit—a misnomer for a pen carved out for the lens-wielders—was densely packed, shoulder to shoulder. The trick? Know your brief, your angles, and your rivals.
Runway shooting is a high-pressure game—one where technical skill must meet ruthless efficiency. Here’s what immediately stood out:
Every show ended with the finale walk—the choreographed, collective stride. This framed my best images: the ensemble, unified, striding toward the lens with palpable energy. Pro tip? Pre-focus on the spot on the runway where heads and shoulders align and be ready to burst. While I loved close-up shots, it’s the wide scene—spotlit models bordered by audience awe—that told the full story of LFW.
While the runways are magnets for high drama, the best storytelling often transcends the curated shows. Step outside Somerset House or the Old Truman Brewery and you land on a runway of a different kind. Fashion editors, influencers, and maverick stylists swirled in a moving tableau, each eager to spotlight personal style.
Urban photographer Bill Cunningham famously scouted personalities before outfits; I adopted a similar lens. Bold color-blocking or a sharp silhouette caught my eye, so I first smiled and gestured (often offering my card), before raising my camera.
Through the crowds, I discovered that the off-duty moments—the cigarette breaks, the laughter between old friends, the outfit malfunctions—reflected just as much creative identity as the main catwalk.
No matter how meticulous your prep, LFW throws daily curveballs. On Day 2, a downpour turned cobblestone walkways into mirrored mosaics, refashioning the street palette into something entirely new. My waterproof bag instantly justified its weight.
Inside, a headline show ran 45 minutes late due to a missing shipment of accessories; panicked PR staff negotiated, a clutch designer dispatched emergency runners to nearby stores. As the press crowd grew restless, I used the lull to document designers on their phones, models improvising TikTok skits to pass the time—a slice of backstage reality.
When an unexpected celebrity arrived for a presentation, crowd control vanished. In the affable chaos, another rookie and I teamed up to gain better vantage. I learned, quickly: alliances form and dissolve in minutes at fashion week. Trust a friendly face, but know when to branch out solo.
Practical Tip: Always carry a backup battery, lens cloth, and a roll of gaffer tape. During one runway, a senior photographer saved his battered monopod mid-show with makeshift tape surgery; speed, improvisation, and treating fellow photographers with respect count for just as much as artistry.
My biggest shock post-LFW? The volume of images: over three days, I’d captured more than 7,000 frames. The daunting challenge—curate a tight, publishable story out of the avalanche.
I stuck to Lightroom for color balancing and exposure fixes. The key is restraint. Over-editing dates your images. The LFW palette—wispy whites, saturated reds, the deep blue gloom of rainy afternoons—needed only subtle adjustment to shine.
Smart cropping rescued plenty of near-misses, transforming awkward spills at the crop edge into tight, dramatic portraits. Remember: always save hi-res versions for print and web, since LFW coverage often circulates for months afterward.
Reflecting on that first LFW experience, a handful of lessons stand out:
One often-unspoken truth: your images are also your calling card. LFW is as much about networking as shooting. I swapped Instagrams with PR teams, models, and stylists—always asking before sending edited candids. Mutually respectful follow-ups landed further opportunities for editorial features and lookbooks post-LFW.
By the week’s end, my feet ached, my memory cards overflowed, and the haze of adrenaline receded into exhaustion. London Fashion Week is famously unfiltered—hectic, mesmerizing, occasionally nerve-wracking.
But that rawness is where its soul lies. The chance to both witness and author a visual narrative, to tussle for angles beside the best, to find beauty not only in couture but in the candid and unguarded—that’s what hooked me. I emerged not only with images, but with growing creative muscle, insider friendships, and the appetite to do it all again next season, armed with hard-won nous and a renewed eye for the unrepeatable.