First, let me say this: I was continually impressed with how on time London fashion week ran this season. Maybe ‘shocked’ is a better word. London used to be the tardiest fashion week on the schedule (and the fact the city of London is so spread out can be partly to blame), but not this time. Even the small shows run by disorganized, hapless PR agencies started only a quarter of an hour behind schedule. Vivienne Westwood, which was a total mess getting into and run by pushy, aggressive wanker of security guards, started not too long after it’s appointed time. So, well done, London.

All this isn’t to say that I didn’t have lots of free time on my hands. As mentioned, London is a sprawling city and the shows were all over the place. (Note to Phillip Green: You’re rich, so please find a closer venue for the TopShop space. Although, while I have you, big thanks for stocking the venue with sweets. The brownies were divine.) So there were moments before shows and long moments in the back seat of my BFC-appointed fashion bus where I was alone with my Samsung Galaxy Note, ample time to get my doodle on. This was a hobby I developed during New York fashion week, and feel free to peruse my doodles from the New York collections. In London, the personal illustrations kept on coming:

First up, inspired by the balloons in the foyer of Claridge’s Hotel in London, I bring you one of my favorite Marc Jacobs’ quotes:

This doodle was made at the airport, during a nostalgic moment of longing for a bed that was completely horizontal.

One of the highlights from my London fashion week was a few hours I spent off schedule, touring the recently opened Lucian Freud exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery with his daughter, Bella. It spanned all seven decades of his career, and included some of his most inspiring and pivotal works. I was profoundly touched by this snapshot of him doing the Queen’s portrait. She came for a dozen sittings with Freud, the most she ever has done, and wore this particular tiara (which she wears on the British currency) on Freud’s request.

I love Henry Holland, so do his mates Poppy Delevingne, Nick Grimshaw, Alexa Chung and Pixie Geldof.

My favorite new face on the British fashion scene: Jonathan Anderson, who’s label is called JW Anderson. Here is the handsome Irishman with his creative collaborator, the stylish stylist Benjamin Bruno, outside their show space.

Pub food is delicious.

But nothing compares to the Wolseley, which is my favorite restaurant in all of London.

Meet Anders, a longtime friend of mine and the Great Dane of The Love Magazine.

The presentation at Belstaff left me drooling.

Grumpy security put a bad taste in my mouth at the start of Vivienne Westwood’s fashion show, but seeing the spritely icon herself take her bow reminded me why I love fashion, and her, so much.

Gratuitous tourist shots. (And yes, I did have to push off an Asian family to get my solo shot on the Trafalgar Square lion)

And, finally perhaps the sweetest unexpected moment from fashion week: a happy tourist couple walking hand-in-hand in matching sweaters. Aww, old people can be so adorable.