"Royal Ascot is not really my thing but the hats made the headlines as usual - that, and the drunken fighting suits. I'm not quite sure what the draw is for Royal Ascot but quite clearly the pitch is better that the project. Outside of the exhibitionists parading the grass at Ladies Day, the hats on the milliner's runway thankfully overshadowed the toffs and their flesh coloured tights (never OK!). Famed hat designer Stephen Jones, Noel Stewart and conceptual fur-fan Soren Bach all showcased their designs at the Bessborough Restaurant – bringing some class to the proceedings. Outside however, drowning in rain and champagne, the salmon shirts and Windsor knots, footballer hungry women and general chav-tastic crowd broke into an inebriated brawl – how totally tedious.
A little closer to home and much more rock 'n roll, I went to a Dirty Pretty Things lingerie party in Soho. London's cool crowd hijacked the streets to enjoy the rum and vodka slush puppies, listen to the DJ sets by Pam Hogg and the Prodigy's Leroy, and of course to watch the beautiful girls float around the party in their sexy Dirty Pretty Things undies. Henry Conway, Prince Cassius and Lisa Moorish graced the Ganton street cobbles and partied into the night. Founded by ex-model and WAG Claire Henry and music aficionado Dee Murren (who arrived on a Harley Davidson), the Dirty Pretty Things girls really know what women want out of their lingerie (and from a dammed good party).
With a busy week unfolding I took the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone and invited my new DJ squeeze to the lingerie event in a bid to get to know him better and work out where my head's at with him VS the Yankee. I'm still bored of the American's baggage, but seemingly not bored enough to wipe his digits and in turn delete him completely. Maybe it's because he’s intriguing me – damn it. The poor DJ was caught in a bit of a tricky situation on the night though; on a second date but surrounded by impossibly hot girls roaming through the crowd in their underwear. He was unsure whether to enjoy the party (and the view) or pretend he hadn't seen them. Compromise came by way of a focus north of the collarbone – at least when I was looking. I have become so immune to the weird and wonderful ways of the fashion world that the strange scenario I was putting him in hadn't even crossed my mind. He dealt with it well; with a cheeky laugh, a whole heap of charm and the glint in his eye that would defrost even my freezer.
The week rounded off with an old friend and champagne cocktails at world famous Jazz venue Ronnie Scotts. Whilst I’m not a huge fan of jazz, live music gets me every time. The company was first class and I enjoyed the total lack of fashion rules at the venue – this crowd is all about the music and it's not ashamed of it. With Glastonbury kicking off next week many will try and convince you it's about the music - but let’s face it – it’s much more to do with the scene and accessories... a little like Ascot - but with fewer estate agents.
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