Say, ooohhh ...

This afternoon I grasped my last chance to see the Valentino exhibition at Somerset House. I'm not sure how it compares with the Manet crowds but 1800 ladies a day have been sighing over every ravishing detail on 138 gowns. There was Jackie O's wedding dress and Julia Roberts' gown for her Erin Brokovich Oscar.

Of course, there were some low points. Like pretty much all of the 1980s, anything you could imagine Joan Collins in and the camouflage ballgown inspired by Andy Warhol, made of silk but it looked like brushed nylon.

It was a very convivial crowd. When ladies of a certain age get entranced by couture, we do get quite chatty and I got talking with one who had briefly worked in a couture house after she left school.

I love the vocabulary of couture.

I admire the elegance of pieghe voltate, the delicacy of point d'esprit.

I would love to swish in organza pagine which I think would be very moi but not in pale pink. (One little girl said they looked like slices of ham.)

But if I were spending my own money like Mrs 'Arris, I'm afraid it would have to be rose di volant. 

And I really loved the section at the end that showed how to create the special effects. Even though I can barely sew on a button.