By Simran Kaur

If I was told I would be fixed headfirst onto a young model’s eyebrow and transported to inner Hackney’s freezing canal banks for a photo shoot – well, I wouldn’t have believed my metallic ears, but that was the outcome of a day spent with fashion156.

Once I got over the initial shock of finding myself covered in a suspiciously sticky substance and, with several of my blue-blooded family, pressed onto the lovely face of Holly (one of the models.) I caught sight of my reflection in the undulating water had to admit, I looked peculiarly beautiful. I made a vow right then to keep up my glimmer and not be outshone by any of the sequinned clothing I could see sparkling on a clothes rail out of the corner of my eye, despite the decidedly frosty temperature threatening to weave a layer of ice over my surface .

A great vantage point meant I could gossip about all the events quite easily with my family,  as well as watching my friends residing on the other models’ face, but Holly’s myriad outfit changes often left me blinking into a vague darkness.

Bemusement coursed through me throughout the day  – cyclists kept hurtling along the path way, seemingly intent on making the next Team GB and nearly sluicing me off in their wake, and a fraught encounter with a curious, wolf-sized sniffer dog set several of my friends on edge, fearful of being inhaled and lost forever.

I had to overcome a slight sense of stage fright when a man in a canal boat moored across the way came out to watch the drama. However I soon came to feel as though I was being admired by a true gentleman/ruffian, as he smoked Galois’s, extended an invitation for afternoon tea and played an unexpected medley of reggae, acting as our soundtrack for the rest of the day. So yes, I winked at him, as brightly as the flash of the constantly whirring camera.

The music must have had a surreptitious warming effect in the minds of the team – Holly’s fingers slowed in their hurry to become as blue as my own tint and everybody’s convulsive shivers subsided.

The last great drama of the day involved a few of my sequinned competitors making an accidental bid for escape, suddenly leaping and arching through the air. It was all quite graceful really, watching them throwing the waning light around – until they tumbled to the floor, were captured and sewn onto the clothes (complete with model still attached) with an almost surgical-like speed.

The sun seemed to slide from the sky and the team packed up, leaving only a forlorn sprinkling of incandescent particles behind them to show what might have happened that day. As for me, well, my story continued that night, but that’s for another time.