Friday, 16th June, 2006
I am not really sure what to wear to a fashion party…all my friends are fashion people and dare I
say it so am I. This is why it's impossible for me to think of anything to wear. Because I tend to
look at others and make snide remarks to friends or myself when no one can hear. The outfit
needs to be the correct balance between "blah di blah, oh I just dropped in on my way
somewhere more interesting" and "How 'bout this for spring/summer 08, ladies!? Cha Cha Cha".
You know what I mean?
I have to inspire jealousy and awe in my outfit; my presence needs to be
felt. I don't want heads to turn and stare as though a brass band has walked in and is
making its way towards the canapés. To risk sounding like a comic book villain, I want people to
turn away from me in spite, suddenly feeling awkward and self-conscious around the vision that
is me, in my splendid, understated yet visionary attire. (With comfortable shoes, so I can have
one-too-many drinks). They will talk about me for years afterwards. They will write songs and
poems and graphic novels about me and my smashing outfit.
The reason I am going on about this is because I recently attended a fashion party. Katherine
Hamnett is a fashion designer you would probably never have heard of. The party was at a pub in North
London, Katherine looked fantastic in a sequined dress and a sequined jacket. Inspired.
I had panicked prior to the party but I totally nailed the outfit folks. I wore these killer Miu Miu
heels that were like seven seasons old, which makes them vintage. Right?
The Miu Miu's looked stunning with the printed 50's skirt I borrowed from Jakki I looked chic and
like I didn't care whether I was at the party or not, I had a fake tan done, which was a special
pale girls tan the colour of a really weak cup of tea. It worked with the shoes. The shoes were so
comfortable that it was like I was wearing trainers.
Unfortunately the party was boring. They had let in some ordinary people, the DJ was bad, and I
think the music was drum and bass, no one could dance to it and there we were too late for the
free drinks. I drank Corona because there were no free cocktails.
The bartender was very short and wearing brown suede shoes with a cuban heal and black pants (note: this is a very bad thing
to do), he was telling me how he was super important and a restaurant consultant or something
not a bartender, so I asked for his card, because I didn't believe him. He mistook my request for
a pick up line, tres embarrassing.
We went home quite early because there were no lovely boys present, except Mika, who we had
brought with us. But at least my feet didn't hurt.