Two days ago, I got dressed, well, barely dressed, in a skintight black latex number held together with corset-style red cord. I was here to march down a catwalk in front of 500 members of the press and public.
It wasn’t the 20-metre catwalk I was expecting. It was so dauntingly long, it felt like it was the length of a hockey pitch. And I hadn’t realised that one of the problems of extreme old age is that walking in a straight line is something of a challenge. I was weaving all over the place. My other concern was that the dress had very wide open sleeves, so I was trying to march along with my arms clamped to my sides to avoid exposing my wrinkly fat bits above my long black gloves.
But in spite of all that, I just loved it. The crowd could not have been kinder, whooping and hollering at the gallant old lady (84 and counting) giving it a go. I’m just such an egotist, lapping up the attention.
I followed in the wake of 50 professional models, long-legged young men and women strutting with absolute confidence in the creations of Vin + Omi, designers who combine originality, wit and style with an obsession with sustainability. My dress might look like PVC, but comes from the first manufacturer of latex and was ethically produced.
I wasn’t nervous, because I’d done it before, and thought it would be easier this time. About six months ago Vin + Omi staged a show and talked me into “walking for them”.
The previous show occupied the two floors of the hotel and took place everywhere – in lounges, library, dining rooms and corridors and, because I was slower than the long-legged gazelles, I kept losing sight of them and getting lost. So this time it would be a doddle, right?
Well, not quite. This time I arrived at The Kensington Building in Wright’s Lane and joined the 50 other models dressed in gauzy pink jumpsuits (easy for quick changes), sitting on the floor, gossiping in between fittings, hair, make-up.
I can’t sit on the floor (or rather I can, but then can’t get up again). So I lay on my back on a long bench on the terrace in the sun and had a snooze until woken by Michelle, the make-up artist, who gave me huge smoky eyes, fake eyelashes and a lot of shiny red lipstick. Vin then persuaded me to abandon my trademark glasses, which, it’s true, I don’t really need. I just love them. My dress was so long Omi had to chop a foot off the bottom so that I wouldn’t go A over T trying to walk.
Why did I do it? Because I adore the designers. The whole business is about helping organisations go zero carbon. The latex for my dress came from a rubber plantation and factory that they worked with for 12 years to change their practices. The clothes from their previous show was a collaboration with King Charles using fabrics made from plants grown in the royal gardens (my dress was made from willow bark). They are now on public exhibition at Sandringham. But most of all, I did it because, why not? Never say no, is my motto.
PS. My husband John didn’t even know what I was going to be wearing for the event – now he says he wants to keep the dress for the dressing-up box.
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