All that glitters by Ali....: She shall go to the ball....

An invite to a ball would normally have me all giddy, planning my outfit, which way to do my hair or what make up look to go for. Sadly after a summer full of black tie wedding invites hitting our post box, I have become immune.

I am one of those irritating girls who convinces myself that I couldn't possibly wear the same dress twice, so for one night only I am stepping into unknown territory. GASP. I am wearing a dress that has hung in my wardrobe since last Christmas. MOCK HORROR. Get me a glass of water, I feel quite faint...GULP that's better!

I blame my mum, remember Dottie? Well Dottie you see, when she met the man who was soon to become her husband worked in an office, I am told when she was paid she would remove the crisp notes from her pay packet and hand it straight over to a sales assistant (something Dottie tuts at me for doing, so obviously it must be some kind of cruel genetic illness I have inherited from her).

I have photographic evidence of these little splurges, lace shift dresses, halternecks gowns (very Studio 54, think Bianca Jagger) flared trousers with matching fitted jacket and of course the handbags ...she was the girl who not only bought the bag but threw in the shoes to match.

When Dottie met my Dad she met her match in the style stakes. A black and white photo of my parents walking along O'Connell Street, Dublin is etched in my head. Matching flares, Dad's coat coolly flung over his shoulder, platforms and quite worryingly his n' her shoulder length hair (through the years these were replaced with a perm for Mum and a Tom Selleck-esque moustache for Dad - I will have to just blank that memory)

When my oldest sister arrived Dottie had another person to inflict her shopping habit on. At the age of 3 she rocked headscarves, flared jeans, long sleeved striped tee's and a waistcoat...Mum was obviously going through her Felicity Kendal ' The Good Life' phase as around this time a vegetable patch was produced at the end of our garden.

Prior to the Easter holidays, Dottie brought me 'Easter Sunday Clothes Shopping', something I was naively led to believe every household did along with their egg hunt. So you see it's in my blood.

The sad thing is that I now look back to photo's of my Mum wishing she had kept all her lovely dresses...styles that are as beautiful now as they were then. So perhaps I should embrace pulling a look from my wardrobe...you never know in twenty years time my daughter could be looking back at photo's of me thinking how beautiful I looked too, not caring if I had worn it before.

What to wear to the Ball...

Sam Edelmann pumps which got me through wedding season