Forgive a touch of unashamed solipsism, but at the moment I am perched in the BFC Media Centre (far less swanky than it sounds) watching the slow and slightly painful start to London fashion week pan out on oversized flat-screens as I hunch over trying to make sense of a Windows keyboard. It ain't pretty: that is, neither the hunch nor the bunch of shows thusfar. Today, however, is the soft launch of London Fashion Week, a cushy ride of inconsequential and quite honestly unimportant designers to ease jet-lagged and New York-fresh fashion editors into the European leg of shows. Flitting past my face are rather artlessly engineered prints, bodged hems, a few lumpen seams. Luckily, these are by no means indicative of London Fashion Week as a whole, although they are a less-than-compelling riposte to Milan's choke-hold over next season's fashion month's scheduling. Do they warrant an extra day? Hardly - but, I hastily add, fashion journalists do, to get to do odd things like eating, sleeping and breathing which are normally on hold during fashion weak (sic). The excitement, in fact, starts right now - Central Saint Martin's MA show is the (un)official start to our London Fashion Week true, with an exciting newer-than-new generation of young London talent jostling for our attention. Considering just how many of the capital's key names are graduates, it's appropriate that it kicks off what we hope - and pray - will be another stellar week.