Ok, so it is quite possible some of you think that due to my complete lack of technology co-ordination this week, this trip could well have been conjured up in the depths of my brain and completely imagined. I'm not really going to defend myself and go along the lines of 'But so-and-so has pictures of me at the Gucci party and I'm on such-and-such a website...'. Because that would be sad and tragic and let's say that I can't really stoop down to anymore levels of sadness and tragedy.
Whilst I contemplate the point of me acquiring and playing around with further electronic devices, a single polaroid taken by my boyfriend remains which is thus far, all the evidence I have of THE dress I wore. In the end, I did plump for something that represented my own particular interests in fashion which is emerging talent, so I wore this Emilio de la Morena (whom both KOS and myself adore, dore, dore) dress from last season that was exactly what I had in mind when this event came up. Despite it's teensy sample size, it fit. Despite, the delicacy of the millinery tulle that was sewn on the dress, it all mostly came out intact. Despite my initial plan to put together an elaborate mix of garments, in the end it was simply about the dress. It was a gut instinct that felt very very right and though the night ended in frantic phone calls to lost property offices, in a sea of Gucci gowns, pretty cocktail dresses, there was a definite level of empowerment that I'm comfortable with (empowerment not being something that I take to that often).
So, I can't thank my boyfriend enough for messing around with his Polaroid camera and whatever digital images do pop up (would it be terrible to insist that they DO actually exist?), I think I'll remember this image the best when I was feeling tingly, the hair was super shiny and the make-up was not smudged with tears.