Coming from the girl whose fancy dress wardrobe is bigger than her daywear collection, it is fairly safe to say that I love dressing up. You really can’t beat the sense of pride when you arrive at a fancy dress event and are greeted by a gushing torrent of jealous compliments regarding your impressive attire. You graciously accept the proclamations of wonderment at your hand-stitched Union Jack dress and orange wig, or your monochrome hair and speckled fur coat, or even your plaited ear-muff hair buns à la Princess Leila. You regard other party-goers with a sense of pity as you circumnavigate the room and immediately identify three sexy cats, five PVC-clad nurses and at least seven playboy bunnies.
It is this passion for costume fashion that leaves me in despair at the contingent of girls nationwide who somehow manage to convert any fancy dress theme into the opportunity to dress like a slapper. Forgive me if I sound as if I’m 40 years ahead of my time, but put some bloody clothes on! It’s not that I take offence to girls wearing very little, my mother would probably claim I’m prone to that myself, but looking stupid once in a while doesn’t kill anyone, in fact it’s character building. So if the theme is geeks, a short skirt, crop top and long socks with a gratuitous pair of sexy glasses does NOT pass as an acceptably geeky outfit. It’s spot on if we’re talking sexy school girl, but did you ever see a real geek dress like that?! Head down to Millets and pick up a Berghaus fleece and some Merrells/open toe sandals-socks combination and you’ll be on the right track. More to the point, a stripy top (worn as a dress) with long, black socks (crucial to any sexy girl’s fancy dress attire) does not class as a “robber” in anyone’s books, and when have you ever seen a nun in fishnet tights and heels? Even Whoopi Goldberg would draw the line there.
Such a pursuit for success can end in the odd mishap, such as the Fruit Bowl evening when my banana swiftly became a banana-split, resulting in a night spent standing with my back to a wall to cover my modesty. Nonetheless, next time you receive an invite to the latest Tarts and Vicars bash, I implore you to take a leaf out of old Bernard (of Bridget Jones fame)’s book and think outside the box. Why settle for a dog collar when you could don your vestments and become the talk of the bishopric…