I’m always looking for an excuse to wear something fabulous bought on a whim, and this celebration seemed a great justification for the black ruffled Brock Collection dress I had splurged on. Confident in my choice of the ankle-length dress and a pair of leopard-print mules, I strutted into Salon in Brixton – and met a sea of jeans and blazers, nary a high heel in sight.
"You can always claim that you’ve just come from somewhere fabulous or are headed there afterwards"
OK, so some quick Google groundwork might have informed me that Brixton is not Belgravia. London’s postcodes all have their own dress code; just another of the unwritten social rules I’ve learned. But here’s the thing: even if I had known that cocktail dresses and mules don’t fly in south London, I probably would have worn the same thing. Simply put, I’d much rather be over-dressed than under-dressed. Why settle for less when the compliments keep coming? And on that night in particular, I didn’t even need to do a changeroo when the party headed to a private members’ club with strict rules on attire.
Being over-dressed is a wardrobe directive I have always followed. As I inhale the intoxicating scent of fancy heavy-card stock and admire the chic calligraphy on the invitations that land on my doormat, my mind races weeks ahead to the evening of the fête, visions of rhinestones and statement earrings dancing in my head. “This gold sequined halterneck jumpsuit will definitely come in handy for any upcoming party that I may not have even been invited to yet… and I can always make it work for a wedding, too,” is the kind of sentence I utter to myself far too often. To my mind, there’s nothing worse than misinterpreting the invitation and showing up in sneakers – do this, and you will inevitably be seated next to someone in a feathered gown.
That’s the advice my late grandmother, Betsy Bloomingdale, gave me – and I’m sticking with it. She was always dressed up, even when she was dressed down. Her closet was immaculate, the stuff of legend: a long-time couture client, she had little cards attached to each piece she owned, on which she would note the event and date she had worn it (my favourite was on an outfit for the wedding of the Prince of Wales and Lady Diana Spencer), as well as the accessories that had accompanied it. All of her pieces had several entries on the cards – one red Valentino gown had so many that it was full on both sides. Visits to her home in Bel Air required dresses and heels from an early age. While my friends were wearing Levi’s bootcut jeans and watching football after Thanksgiving dinner, I was stepping into patent-leather Mary-Janes and zipping up a cocktail dress from Laura Ashley. In my grandmother’s opinion, and in my own, nothing makes a special occasion more special than dressing up.
Being over-dressed has multiple advantages, the first being that it is polite to your host to sartorially honour the effort she has made. Then there’s the fact that if you are over-dressed in comparison to other guests, you can always claim that you’ve just come from somewhere fabulous or are headed there afterwards (pro tip: this also gives you a great excuse, should you require one, to duck out early). Lastly, the under-dressed won’t admit it but they will envy you – just another benefit of getting dressed up in the first place.
There are financial advantages, too: reducing the CPW (cost per wear) of an impulse buy soothes the mind. I am a firm believer in embracing any chance you get to wear that neon-pink Balenciaga miniskirt you bought on sale. Toddler’s birthday party? Kids love neon! Backyard barbecue? Those sausages aren’t the only thing on fire! Your boyfriend’s aunt’s first husband’s funeral? Happy colours turn frowns upside down! One word: confidence. If you look your best, you feel your best, and if you feel your best you have more fun. On that note, have you ever been at a cocktail party in flats talking to another woman in 5in Manolos? Exactly.
And so to dress codes. As an enthusiast of perspicuous planning, I fully appreciate the clarity and specificity of the American holiday calendar. The festive season is neatly bookended by Thanksgiving at the end of November and the New Year’s celebrations. People are blacklisted for putting up Christmas decorations any time near to Halloween. My initial reaction was to reject the early-onset Christmas horror that happens in this country, but my closet convinced me otherwise. In truth, I’m game for a festive fête any time of year – if only to wear all the outfits I’ve purchased with the promise to actually wear. After all, aren’t we all just looking for more occasions to put on that sequined jumpsuit?
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