Well, I had to take a rain check on the drink with the boy on Tuesday night. Instead I had a three line whip for The Sunday Times Travel section’s 20th birthday cocktail, so I hotfooted it to Theo Randall at the Inter-Continental on Park Lane.
An absolute pleasure to attend a party that was actually for writers & editors, rather than countless PRs, blaggers, and sycophants, as is the norm in the fashion world. The venue was a little strange though – I feel for poor Mr Randall. His eponymous restaurant is one of the most dispiriting spaces I think I’ve had the misfortune to hang out in. Windowless, over-lit & corporate. A shame because, if the canapés were anything to go by, the food is delicious. (And the Prosecco is even better.)
I was stumped as to what I should wear. My editor knows me well and requested no ‘fashion-y wierd stuff’, but as he hasn’t a clue, that could just have meant no bright colours and frilly pieces. In the end I plumped for a 1950’s style LBD in stretch wool with a cross over V neckline, cap sleeves, and a curving silhouette to the knee, black Wolfords and my new bronze dancing shoes. A slash of fuchsia lipstick and Veronica Lake waves. I carried my big black Janet Collin bag, as an evening bag would have felt too ‘in from the burbs for a Big Night Out’. This way I felt like I was in very smart editrix day wear.