Sara Bailey is sharp, smart and sixteen...

Oxford Fashion Week strutted to a start last Tuesday and to my utter delight, I was met with the stereotype of fashionistas.

They were those faces of contempt in the audience, faces that said “are you lost?” as they glanced disdainfully at my jeans. It was fantastic; the atmosphere, the clothing, and what was most impressive – the inclusion.

I was expecting the typical model: legs that carried on forever, cheekbones that could cut glass, a body percentage of fat so small that it did not move independently from their frame – you know the type. But I was forced to forgo this idea; because the people who walked out weren’t inhuman, they were beautiful people who ate carbohydrates.

“Icon” is an abused term, why should teenage girls look up to spectacles of absolute thin-ness? It was incredibly refreshing to see this diversity of people of all shapes and sizes take to the stage. There was also a broad range of ages including women over 35. In fashion model terms, superannuated models are usually retreating back into civilian life at this age, reduced to life in a Welsh cottage with an adorable family. For even Photoshop cannot eliminate the decaying face of post 35. Fashion is about art, so as far as I’m concerned age means nothing. Unfortunately, this is a frivolous world and I doubt this will be changing anytime soon.

Bringing me on to the sole purpose of Oxford Fashion Week- the clothing. I must say I was surprised. Usually when pawing through the pages of Vogue, Elle (admittedly, only in that brief window you have waiting for the dentist) the ‘clothing’ seen is as far away from ‘wearable’ as humanly possible.

The models are walking art, with chicken wire or suchlike entwined over their bodies: bizarre to me, but what do I know? Granted, it was the high street fashion night, but I was expecting some sort of rare spectacle so I could look at it in utter bemusement and enjoy those fashion critics around me tutting at my blatant ignorance and disregard for fashion.

However, I could envision myself wearing some of the coral dresses, the floral numbers; they were all under-stated statements. There seems to be a massive pressure on teens to seek fashion ‘individuality’ and ‘express’ yourself through your wardrobe.

I could also visualise a life where I had some of the model’s bone structure: the ones where they made a paper bag look fantastic and definitely helped sell some of the pieces.

In among the upbeat indie music blaring out to give a ‘feel good’ vibe, colours so fantastically vivid that they promised a sun-filled summer ahead, was a truly brilliant show. It was the perfect entrance into the incredible world of fashion.

There were glowing smiles of some of the models which spoke of confidence, without having to look a certain way or having to adopt a certain mentality. Unlike Kate Moss: “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels” – I am yet to follow this mantra.

Oxford Fashion Week, your undiscriminating, inclusive way and your ability to host a relaxed enjoyable night, really is a credit to Oxford, and all that it has to offer.