Last night opened my eyes to what really goes on in this quiet lane I reside in. We received an invitation for a party where the dress code was white, absolutely anything was acceptable as long as it was white. This has never really been my colour, I do, naturally, have many white shirts, which should be a staple to every woman's personal collection as they can be teamed with a vast variety of clothing and can be dressed up or down, worn alone or underneath garments. My personal favourite is a Jil Sander crisp white shirt worn with jeans, and my faithful Joseph blazer or when I'm a having a rock chic moment my Dolce & Gabbana brown leather jacket (yes I can do rock chic). I do also posses a pair of white earl jeans, but they are just too Liz Hurley to be seen in other than on holiday. I never, ever wear white dresses, they just make me look ill and I find even expensive makes just somehow look nasty, which leads me on to white heels which just have far too many connotations attached to them to ever be worn. Flat white shoes are acceptable, but can only be worn for one season as they just get grubby.
So I found myself in a fix, I couldn't just wear a white shirt, how ever elegant, for a start I'd be far to cold, more importantly I would look ridiculous. I felt I had no choice than to ask handsome husband for advice, something I rarely do when it comes to fashion, let's just say our tastes are different and he just doesn't really get women's clothing at all. He had decided to wear his cricket whites which I thought quite inventive for him. He was sitting in his favourite club chair by the fire in the drawing room, reading The Times sport section when I approached and asked him to just focus for one minute on a problem I was having, he dutifully put down the paper and listened as I explained my dilema, he looked in the burning embers of the fire and said "pyjamas". Brilliant, he always comes up trumps for me when it really matters. I have two pairs of white pyjamas, one super warm flannel pair from The White Company which was a gift from a girlfriend when we moved down here, and a rather slinky silk set bought from Apartment C in Marylebone. I felt, as it was a party it would be the silk ones worn with a pair of magical black silk heels with a diamante buckle from Gina.
We arrived at the already bustling party and were welcomed by the hostess wearing a flirty little tutu number, glasses of champagne were thrust into our hands and we were gathered into the fold of merriment. During the course of the evening I encountered snowflakes, angels, Jack Frost, brides in full bridal wear, a marshmallow (really), a milk bottle, Arabs, a knight in white satin and the most entertaining, the entire troupe of Abba, all four in fabulous white outfits and even wearing the white platforms, who then proceeded to perform for us. Initially I thought they were hired entertainment, but on closer inspection it transpires that two of the group have a child in the same boarding house as our biggest chap, and he is a fighter pilot and quite a serious and intense gentleman (normally), but not this evening, where I he exposed a whole hidden side of his character. He performed on the piano and sang to the roar of the crowd for their great friends, the hosts.
We stumbled back home in the early hours having sung many Abba greats, I didn't realise I knew so many. How fortunate it was that I was already in my pyjamas I just wiped off my make-up, whipped of my knickers and jumped into bed with the tune of Gimme, Gimme a Man After Midnight floating in my head.