La Di Da Fashion
September 24th 2009 23:28
There are some situations where fashion is subject to a dress code. I posted about this yesterday (those of you who read this blog avidly know that…you are out there, right?) and how there have been a couple of situations of late where a dress code has been prescribed for somewhat formal events, and yet somehow the resulting fashion got muddled none the less.
The first example of this was when my partner was invited to dine with some rather important people who were in town on business from Canada. It was all very formal and posh and I was required to attend a dinner as the other half and pretend like I had been brought up on the very right side of the tracks. I have to admit I felt a bit Pretty Woman, but thanks to that fabulous piece of cinematic history I at least knew which order to use my cutlery in. The prescribed dress standard was cocktail. Brilliant. Out came the very lovely and very cocktail 50s inspired black Wayne Cooper dress with collared halter, full skirt and belted waist. Only, no-one else was in cocktail. In fact, they weren’t even remotely close. Everyone else had clearly interpreted the dress code to mean work-wear or plain old frumpy. Enter overdressed me. Granted, my dress was fabulous but I’m not the kind of person who would strut about happy in the knowledge I was better dressed than the other people there (unlike the friend of mine I spoke of yesterday) so I was left feeling kind of awkward and not really wanting to take my trench coat off. Odd for a venue where staff opened the door and then were positioned at the ready with trays of drinks – you would think glam would be the go. I learnt that was not the case the hard way.
So at the more recent formal occasion I was required to attend - dinner at Government House and again due to my fabulously clever partner - I figured I had learnt my fashion lesson. The dress code provided prior to the event was sufficiently vague however – dinner dress. Now I don’t know about you, but depending on where I have dinner, my “dinner dress” covers every possible facet of the fashion spectrum from denim to ball gown. But as I said, having learnt my fashion lesson from the Canadian experience, I opted to ignore the dress code entirely and opt for a dress I would wear to work. I was bang on. Incredible. By completely ignoring the dress code, I actually got it right. Hmmm.
Interestingly, it would seem this time my partner got it wrong. While ladies were told to choose dinner dress, men were to present themselves in “lounge suit.” I love that term because it just makes me think of Hugh Heffner, but in real attire terms, I have been led to believe it means suit minus tie – as in, pretend to be a bit formal, but not really. How aristocratic of those lovely people in Canberra. A bit of googling confirms that many others share the same opinion my lovely boyfriend and I did – relaxed business. Collared shirt, no need for the top hat. Sadly he was the only one who didn’t wear a tie. Enter him, under-dressed.
Maybe the next time we’ll get it right in unison.
The first example of this was when my partner was invited to dine with some rather important people who were in town on business from Canada. It was all very formal and posh and I was required to attend a dinner as the other half and pretend like I had been brought up on the very right side of the tracks. I have to admit I felt a bit Pretty Woman, but thanks to that fabulous piece of cinematic history I at least knew which order to use my cutlery in. The prescribed dress standard was cocktail. Brilliant. Out came the very lovely and very cocktail 50s inspired black Wayne Cooper dress with collared halter, full skirt and belted waist. Only, no-one else was in cocktail. In fact, they weren’t even remotely close. Everyone else had clearly interpreted the dress code to mean work-wear or plain old frumpy. Enter overdressed me. Granted, my dress was fabulous but I’m not the kind of person who would strut about happy in the knowledge I was better dressed than the other people there (unlike the friend of mine I spoke of yesterday) so I was left feeling kind of awkward and not really wanting to take my trench coat off. Odd for a venue where staff opened the door and then were positioned at the ready with trays of drinks – you would think glam would be the go. I learnt that was not the case the hard way.
So at the more recent formal occasion I was required to attend - dinner at Government House and again due to my fabulously clever partner - I figured I had learnt my fashion lesson. The dress code provided prior to the event was sufficiently vague however – dinner dress. Now I don’t know about you, but depending on where I have dinner, my “dinner dress” covers every possible facet of the fashion spectrum from denim to ball gown. But as I said, having learnt my fashion lesson from the Canadian experience, I opted to ignore the dress code entirely and opt for a dress I would wear to work. I was bang on. Incredible. By completely ignoring the dress code, I actually got it right. Hmmm.
Interestingly, it would seem this time my partner got it wrong. While ladies were told to choose dinner dress, men were to present themselves in “lounge suit.” I love that term because it just makes me think of Hugh Heffner, but in real attire terms, I have been led to believe it means suit minus tie – as in, pretend to be a bit formal, but not really. How aristocratic of those lovely people in Canberra. A bit of googling confirms that many others share the same opinion my lovely boyfriend and I did – relaxed business. Collared shirt, no need for the top hat. Sadly he was the only one who didn’t wear a tie. Enter him, under-dressed.
Maybe the next time we’ll get it right in unison.
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