Char Borley : galerie

Those floating lanterns put something in my head I couldn't shake — came straight home and haven't touched a single thing to wear since. Come find out what the glow left behind, baby.

The tide's dropped and Totally Thames has me down on the foreshore, ankle-deep in mud hunting for whatever the river's been hiding — this top's barely survived the sun. Come get your hands dirty with me, baby?

First show of Fashion Week and I'm doing my face one-handed, coffee in the other — the robe never stood a chance. Wish you were here to mess it all up again, baby?

Last fitting of the day finally done and the whole city tips into Fashion Week tomorrow — this is my first quiet minute since morning and I'm spending it exactly how you'd hope. What are you still doing up, baby?

Open House Festival dropped me into a stranger's flat and I can't stop wondering what they get up to in here — this bedroom's seen things and I want in. Care to find out what kind of trouble I'm making in someone else's sheets, baby?

Gym couldn't put a dent in me — came home with more energy than I walked in with. Think you could wear me out, baby?

Strawberry Hill House is wall-to-wall flowers for the Design Festival and I've found a corner nobody else has — this place was built for secrets. Want to hear one, baby?

The whole river's gone mad for the Great River Race and I haven't moved from this wall since the first boat — this thin thing's been no match for the sun. Come share the view, baby.

September sun's still warm enough and this terrace is private enough that I haven't put a single thing on since I came up here. Care to come find out what the neighbours are missing, baby?

Nine hundred years away and it just walks back into London like nothing — standing here in front of every stitched inch and all I can think is some things only get more powerful with time. You agree, baby?