Oooh, missus

Sensationally hilarious interview by Justine Picardie in the Telegraph with Rupert Everett who plays the headmistress in St Trinians, out on 21 December:

Perhaps it is exhaustion, therefore, as much as solidarity with the spirit of St Trinian's, that explains why, on the way to the set, Rupert eats three Cadbury's Creme Eggs in between puffing a small roll-up.

'I wouldn't normally do this,' he says, inhaling chocolate and tobacco with equal alacrity, 'but I have to get into my schoolgirl frame of mind.' Then he flicks through the pages of Hello!, giving an acerbic commentary on the celebrities featured within. 'Look at that, another ghastly evening at the Met. Forget St Trinian's, I should really be the headmistress of a star academy. All these so-called style divas have such terrible dress sense.'

His voice becomes increasingly disapproving, his dark eyebrows raised ever higher, as he regards an assembly of female stars at a New York ball. 'I could give them a proper going over, and then put them back on the road. Ooh, look, Kate Moss's hands have become almost as grabby as Madonna's. Actually, they're all at it, clutching their handbags with knobbly claws, like it's stuffed full of cash. That will have to be one of the first week's lessons at school. How to hold your handbag without looking grasping.'

This is followed by a meandering discussion about snogging Colin Firth.

Walking in slingbacks

Manolo the Shoeblogger reports on the other Manolo's first collection for men.

To say that the Shoeblogger is disappointed in this collection is the understatement. There is nothing here the he would wear, and he suspects the same is true of the maestro Manolo, himself. Indeed, the collection seems like the elaborate joke.

And now, we shall never speak of this again.

Ths search for the perfect party dress

Whenever I talk to men, they tell me that they hate shopping. That they just walk with a determined long stride into the shop, see what they want and buy it. Often without even trying it on.

And then there is us. Here is an account of a woman's search for a dress for the party season:

Once in a while – usually around Christmas – a girl’s thoughts turn to party dresses, then, almost immediately, descend into despair. I’m not talking about the ultimate price-on-request dress. I’m talking about a dress that is a few rungs above the high street, but not in the big-price league; one that is sexy and glamorous, rather than a box-ticking fashion statement or a festive confection.

Nobody could deny they are out there – rails of gorgeous little frocks by Alice + Olivia and Willow and Sass & Bide and Antik Batik and D&G and you name it. But they might as well be lederhosen for all the use they are to me. Because, besides looking good enough to eat, they all finish above the knee or quite a bit higher.

I could fill lever-arch files with the things I can’t tolerate in a dress – starting with short – and most of these I think I share with other women. I want a dress that isn’t the length of your boyfriend’s shirt, that doesn’t itch (a wool party dress? Please), that couldn’t easily disguise a pregnancy, that has some sort of shoulder coverage, as opposed to cheese-cutter straps – and it would be really nice if it wasn’t black and sort of apologetic-looking. Did I mention that it has to cost somewhere south of £400-£500, if it is the absolute dress of my dreams?

the picture is a Christmas window at Selfridges.

Lia Does Chanukah

Top baby Lia, currently residing in Istanbul, has now received from me her first designer label, this cherry dress from agnes b.

It is never too early for a girl to begin to learn to dress well. Also A line is so flattering for the pear-shaped nappy wearer.

Thought for the day

Shoes are the first machines we are given to master. Nicholson Baker