The perils of dressing – and undressing – for parties

I recall a male friend telling me about an encounter he once had with Bindy Lambton, the eccentric estranged wife of the late Lord Lambton. They had been to the same party and it was snowing outside. ‘Would you mind coming home with me?’ she enquired. ‘I’m not propositioning you. I’m too old. It’s just that I need someone to undo the back of my dress’. On asking how she managed to undress when alone, Lambton answered breezily, ‘I go out on the street , hail a taxi and ask the driver to unzip me. But it’s too cold to do that tonight.’

Oh, the perils of dressing, and undressing for parties, particularly during what is called the festive season.  Within this daunting social ven diagram are intersecting circles of embarrassment involving both sexes. To tread around them involves such an intricate and easy knowledge of sartorial geometry that most of us never rise about a B + and receive an increasing number of Cs and even Fs.