LBD stays in the wardrobe

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Three, two, one - go! Yes, the Christmas party fest is upon us once more. Loath as I am to write these words while it's still November, one glance at the invitation pile confirms my very worst fears: no junk TV for me over the next few weeks. Goldie, Melinda and Les will have to phutter on without my support.

There were parties every night last week, from the glittering De Beers shop launch to the Harvey Nichols perfume bash, which was also rather glittery thanks to the rare black diamonds embedded in 50 lucky invitations courtesy of House of Mouawad.

Unlike the De Beers event, which specified "dress to sparkle", the Harvey Nichols party didn't have a dress code. Which might go some way towards explaining the proliferation of bizarre outfits.

One of the best things about being a fashion journalist in London is that your subject matter is never dull. I love the clothes that pass for partywear in this city: eccentric maybe, eclectic certainly, but always bursting with creative spirit. The little black dress might win top marks for flattery, but it scores nulle points for originality.

Fittingly for a party full of London's trendiest young things, I barely saw an LBD all night - unless you count novelist Amelia Cone who jazzed hers up with a huge grey fur hat and matching wristbands.

London girls don't just wear designer labels blindly, and even those with money to burn prefer to wear interesting pieces rather than ones that scream of status. Party-girl Willow can't be prised out of her "Prince William is a Fox" T-shirt, while Daisy Wilson eschewed Gucci or Prada for a top she'd designed herself.

The most daring outfit of the evening, however, wasn't Meredith Ostrum's see-through dress by Maria Grachvogel - even though I'm sure boyfriend Nick Rhodes appreciated it. No, the most daring outfit was a tracksuit.

As anyone who owns one knows, tracksuits - even those as sublimely cut as Juicy's - aren't exactly the most forgiving garments, and to wear one to a party takes guts indeed. But how very London to subvert this most slobby, Sundayish of items by teaming it with a pair of gold high heels and a handbag and wearing it to a swanky do.

Those of you who always had a sneaking suspicion that, denim jeans were far too scummy and casual to wear in the evening should be heartened by the fact that finally, after about two years of overkill, they have all but disappeared from the party circuit.

But don't dig out that LBD just yet - for it looks as if their replacement is to be nothing grander than a pair of trackie bottoms. Which should save us some money on frocks this Christmas, at least.

 

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