When You're Dancing Through Your Wardrobe

So apparently what gets Linda Evangelista out of bed these days is a party thrown by Alber Elbaz to celebrate Lanvin's new boutique at Harvey Nichols. In what is quite possibly the only time in my life I’ve looked at a supermodel and felt better about my own outfit, her take on “aftermath of a debauched dinner party” was to wear a blindingly white mac, so I was hardly out of place in my black dress and satin flowered pumps with hair slightly messed (more from brutal wind than debauchery).

I don’t love fashionista parties, but I do love prowling around a fabulous shop after hours with a glass of champagne, as I was last night. There’s something almost naughty about food (beetroot parfaits, anyone? Ick – not hard to make like a proper fashionista and not eat at this party) and drink in the sort of place you practically need to wear gloves to handle the expensive clothes. It’s like the Vogue version of From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. As with most British parties, no one you don't already know speaks to you (unlike in the U.S., even if you see someone at parties 3 days running, you do not go up to them and comment on it), so I was left to sip my champagne (1 1/2 POINTS per glass) and play spot-the-most-expensive accessory. (Look! Some Roger Vivier patent leather pilgrim courts!) Let’s not even talk about how sad it is that I can name -- and in many cases, price -- these things. I'd kick ass on this particular version of the Price is Right... assuming I could balance on my stilettos.

I also spotted some Pedro Garcia jeweled purple satin peep toes – the very same pair I’d ogled in green on net-a-porter a few months ago – and looked up to realize they were being worn by Zadie Smith. Who, for the record, has cheekbones that could beat up Linda Evangelista’s. I broke the don’t-speak-until-you’re-introduced rule -- she has an American husband, so I was hoping she’d be used to Yanks who like to do mad things like, I don’t know, meet new people at parties. Apparently not. Looking startled, she told me she’d just finished her latest book and was out taking a break, then abruptly said she was heading home. I took it as a sign it was time for me to do the same.

Goodie bag: The tempting black velvet box in the Harvey Nichols bag I was handed disappointingly contained a paper fan with sketches of the Lanvin spring/summer 2006 collection. I suppose I shouldn’t have expected, oh, a nice Lanvin black satin bias cut dress, but a fan?