My Cure for the Common Cold

by Sasha Wilkins on March 8, 2013 · 13 comments

Laduree Ispahan

Most people who cover the twice yearly fashion collections get a bad cold – or fashion flu as it is usually called – at some point. Being squished up with your equally germ-ridden peers on benches in unheated tents/halls/churches/hangars – delete as applicable, along with wearing unsuitable clothes in Arctic temperatures,  no weekends off for a month, not enough sleep and certainly not enough nutrition means that the collective fashion immune system does not work at peak efficiency.

I should have been reasonably safe this season: I did New York on my own terms, took London gently, didn’t do Milan at all (thank goodness), and just parachuted into Paris twice to do a few key shows. Really, I shouldn’t have got sick at all. But I did, and Tuesday night and most of Wednesday in Paris were really quite miserable.

But adopting my patent cure seems to have worked wonders. I started it in Paris on Tuesday night, and by this evening (Thursday), I feel almost human again, if a bit wobbly.

Basically the cure involves many, many hot baths laced with reviving Aromatherapy Associates bath oils to ease the aching legs and back, countless cartons of Innocent Smoothies (I’m extremely partial to the superfood antioxidant one with Acai) for vitamins and to soothe the raspy throat, pots of green tea, lots of fizzy aspirins, chased with honey & lemon throat sweets, boxes of Kleenex Balsam tissues (red noses are only chic for Comic Relief) and total prone bed rest. (I was also allowed a Laduree Ispahan macaron to cheer myself up.)

And, above all, no email and no work.

Of course that wasn’t practical yesterday: I had Vuitton at 10am, a Camilla & Marc appointment at their Paris PR agency, and a Valentino re-see.  But the moment I was done I sat in Eric Kayser off the rue de la Paix and drank a blistering pot of jasmine green tea, before gently walking through the Tuileries, not in a rush for the first time in weeks, trying to stop my head throbbing and the world from spinning.

The bed rest started the moment I got back from St Pancras in the late afternoon, and I have barely moved since. I declared today a duvet day and it has been bliss. (I do feel guilty about the hideous state of my work inbox, but tant pis, I can deal with it tomorrow.)

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