My recent purchase of a little black dress from Wall set me thinking about the place of the LBD in a girl's wardrobe. 

The basic idea of an LBD is that it's multipurpose. You should be able to wear it to work, then out to dinner; or to meet your partner's parents; or to a funeral; or to a cocktail party. It should go from day to night and from reasonably casual to reasonably formal with just a change of accessories. In this, it differs from a spectacular black dress such as the Versace number that Angelina Jolie (and her leg) wore to the Oscars recently.  

I now have four LBDs - five if you count summer weight.

Perhaps the most versatile of them is this cool wool, lined shift from M&S. It took me a little while to track this down, because I had very specific requirements:  a scoop neck - high enough to give coverage but low enough not to look frumpy or make my boobs look enormous; lined but lightweight; knee length; matt fabric and either princess line (the one I found) or with a waist seam. Last week I wore it with fleece-lined tights, suedette stiletto-heeled boots and a cashmere poloneck underneath, but it's just as useful over a white shirt or under a cardigan or leather blouson, or teamed with loafers or kitten heels for summer. If you can only buy one LBD, this is the type to have. Make sure it's lined, so that it slips nicely over underlayers. 

Another of my faves is very much a winter dress. A long sleeveless column in stretch velvet, it has a v-neck with a twist and a split at the back, and is very bog-standard, from Dorothy Perkins, but the simplicity of the cut makes it look very expensive. It's very glam on its own or with a sparkly shrug or stole, but I often dress it right down with a poloneck sweater so that it looks like a skirt (but is much more comfortable to wear out to dinner, as it has no constriction on the waist). 

A good dress for mid-season or for cool evenings is, again, one that I'd wanted for a long time - a knee-length wrap viscose dress from Boden. The trick with wrap dresses - those with 5 per cent or more elasthane - is to get them a size bigger than usual. I like the Boden version of the modern wrap dress because it has very long ties and little details at the collar and cuff that add a touch of femininity. This dress looks great over a vest of the same or contrasting colour - I'm past the age of revealing the cleavage it's designed for (a fault with many current wrap dresses, which create way too much exposure at the front). And the fabric is completely matt, which is forgiving to lumps and bumps. 

My latest LBD is the pima cotton jersey one from Wall (see earlier post), but a much older garment is a linen sundress from Hobbs, which I must have owned for 15 years or more. This is a simple tank, but in two layers, so the straightforward heavy linen tank underlayer is topped with a double layer of very thin chiffon-like linen that crosses over a little in front. Kind of hard to describe, but it's a lovely dress that just floats around the body in a hot summer. I tend to team it with a transparent black kimono in a silk called 'sha', which is something like an elastic organza.  

Much as I like my dresses in other colours - in blues and pinks and green and yellows - they are not as versatile as black dresses, especially if you live a city life, and even here in the countryside they get a massive amount of wear. One or two good LBDs in your wardrobe and you'll always have something to wear.  

When I was headed for Paris recently, for a business meeting, the one thing all of my friends kept asking me was: "What are you going to WEAR?"



It is interesting, and kind of amusing, that armouring oneself with the perfect outfit is something all women understand (I'm hoping they just all assumed I'd do my research, prep the vocab and come up with a decent question list...). And the truth is, I did arm myself with some options for outfits, including a shocking pink couture silk coat, a magenta satin 1960s dress suit, a 1960s silk and wool suit in blue and a magenta cotton vintage dress, none of which I wore.

Even my eventual choice of a 1960s lemon linen dress suit with hemstitching and a bow on the waist, I jettisoned at the last minute in favour of trousers, which for some reason make me feel more confident. I also didn't want to wear high heels, because of the heat (it was about 27 degrees in Paris) and I feel you can get away with low heels more easily with trousers. 



In the end, I wore grey flared chinos from Boden (my interview was conducted on a purgatorially uncomfortable Moroccan chair, only inches from the ground, so I was glad of the trousers which saved me waving my big fat knees at my interviewee), a plain white t-shirt and the jacket from the lemon linen suit, which has three-quarter sleeves and three big, covered buttons. It also has lovely hemstitching, which you can't see in these photos.  



I always wear a hat and took this raffia one (see top pic). Earrings were made by my jeweller friend Suzy, in silver fused with gold, and went with a pink pearl necklace; a cheap Hong Kong Cartier-tank-style watch from Ebay and some lemon leather vintage gloves with hemstitching, plus a screaming magenta pashmina tied to my bag handles.

I hate my hands, so I only ever wear a wedding ring (also made by Suzy), and I went for nail varnish for once, in iridescent pearl (as soon as I got home again, I clipped all my nails off, as I loathe long nails, which strike me as nasty and unhygienic).  



My handbag was a big mint-green mock-croc leather tote with neon stitching from Di Cristina (I love this thing - it's like a giant sweet and it holds all my junk), and I had a beige mock-ostrich laptop bag for my computer and papers. My notebook was magenta hand-made Italian buffalo leather with hand-marbled cream paper (a present from the DH from The Online Pen Company) and my pen was a cream and black marbled Parker Duofold fountain pen he bought me nearly 20 years and which I was shocked to find recently is now worth a small fortune (something to do with the rareness of the acrylic). I did also, of course, record the interview, with a small and discreet recorder that I set going well in advance, but it's always useful to be able to make notes as well.

Shoes, as I've mentioned before on this blog, are something that drive me a bit crazy generally, and I ended up wearing a pair of 12-year-old almond-toed courts in pale blue and gold brocade, with silver leather 2in Louis heels. I've worn these to several events such as weddings and parties, and I know I can stand all day in them if need be. 



Interview over, elsewhere in Paris and for travelling, I felt very comfy in my pale blue linen Jasper Conran sundress (v-neck, v-back, fully lined and an asymmetric skirt), and a pale grey cotton cardi from H&M, teamed with navy Fly-Flots, or Boden chinos in navy, worn with Nike low-tops on which I've coloured in all the pale bits with a black marker pen.

With temperatures up in the high 20s, I didn't need my Burberry polocoat, other than to lie on it in the Tuileries. It is ancient now, and there are holes appearing everywhere, so when I got back, I splashed the cash on a vintage trench from Aquascutum. 

The French are marvelously stylish and I envied their nonchalance, but, I looked every inch the Englishwoman in Paris. Which is fine by me - because, believe me, the French find the English every bit as chic as we find them. 

I've been having a bit of a clothes splurge lately, on two accounts.

One, of course, is that for once in my life I actually have some dosh, though so deeply ingrained is the habit of thrift that I still can't bring myself to look around an actual shop - all the following purchases cost peanuts on Ebay.

The second, though, is that I have a very important interview to conduct very soon, along with meeting my boss, meeting family I haven't seen in several years, having a birthday party and meeting with friends I haven't seen - some of them - in 30 years. And that made me realise that I didn't have anything remotely smart to wear.

When we moved to France in 1999, I gave away most of my (40 - count 'em) work suits and of the two I kept, only one is really still wearable (the other is SO out of fashion that I keep it only for sentimental reasons). I could wear the old stone silk noaille one, but a girl likes to have options, after all.

I also gave my friend M all my smart jackets when I lost weight and OK, I'm cursing slightly, having put the weight back on, but it's also true that I hadn't worn any of them in years and the shoulders were getting on for too big. I don't live a businesswear-type life on a daily basis, and my clothes tend to fall into the categories of pretty, practical or glamorous, but having to go to major cities several times in a few months suddenly calls for something a bit less casual and countrified, though still not too formal as I'm not that kind of girl.

First up then is this pair of 1980s cotton-modal dresses by French designer Jean Chancal. These two dresses both have beautiful drape, lots of movement, pockets you can actually use, and a fabric weight that seems curiously lacking in more modern clothing. Teamed with one of my vintage jackets a cropped cardigan or shrug, I think I'll get a lot of wear out of these even if I don't wear them on my London and Paris trips. 

Second up is this flock of pink dresses for summer. The magenta one with a flower print is in crinkle cotton by Boden - great for travelling - while the pink one with little dots is also Boden but in silk with a silk lining - delicious for summer, it's got some very nice details such as piping and a deeply flounced hem. The pink dress with swirls is linen. Again, all three would be great with a little cropped cardi or shrug.

I plumped for more vintage clothes with this hemstitched lemon linen dress-and-jacket suit, probably 1960s. It fits perfectly and will be great teamed with my new pink suede Russell and Bromley boots. 

Another dress suit, this time a dress-and-coat combi, I bought for alteration. The dress in its current style is way too Queeny but with a v-neck, new darts and a bit of trimming, it should come up nicely. I don't have this suit yet and don't know what fabric it is, but the vendor thought it was wool mix. 

Shoes are something that I find phenomenally difficult to buy. What I like I can't afford and the current fashion for lumpy, clumpy, platformy, huge-heeled shoes is something I find truly ugly. The dainty, pointy and reasonably low-heeled shoes I like cost an arm and a leg in this neck of the woods, but are listed on Ebay mainly as 'wedding shoes' and fortunately cost naff all. This pink pair of Laura Ashley suedes are right up my street, and I've also ordered some Foot Petals insoles from the US to hopefully make wearing my shoes more comfortable. 

I'm OK for scarves and anyway I make them, though I did buy a zinging magenta one-dollar pashmina from China, and I have plenty of nice blouses, so I then I took a look at handbags. At one time I was quite reasonably off for these, as they used to be given away free on the ferry if you bought Duty-free perfume. But over the past 15 years I've munched through my lovely Texiers and Tulas and now suddenly realised with a shock that all I had left was a couple of cheap brown faux-leather totes, and one cream and black python Kelly bag that I had made for me 20 years ago.

Time, then, to search around for some decent leather bags and I've lucked into these. I like a bright bag that doesn't match anything, and these look just the ticket for summer. These are: lime-green leather ostrich-look 'Birkin' (top left), mint leather mock-croc faux-Hermes, pink leather Jasper Conran mini-tote, and a beige real ostrich 1950s. 

Last but not least, check out my nifty little Cartier Tank-alike quartz watch with leather strap. One cent plus shipping from Hong Kong, so if it turns out to be crap, at least I haven't lost my shirt.

The new 'longer' skirt length was spotted on the Balenciaga catwalk yet again during Paris fashion week (see Guardian piece here) and it's something that the over-40s babe should take note of.

It's not, of course, what normal people like you or I would call a long skirt, but it is below knee length, and as anyone who's tried to buy a dress in the past five years or so will know, a decent-length skirt has been something that's been hard to come by.

There have been hundreds of beautiful dresses that I thought looked promising at first sight, only to discover that they barely consititute a pussy pelmet. I have never worn short skirts, and even if I had, I'm long since past the wise age to do so. 

So, I would say, this spring through autumn, keep your eyes peeled, and when dresses begin to appear that are long enough to cover a girl's modesty, snap them up. God knows, fashion is a fickle beast and you never know when once again that hemline will desert you for the more coltish-limbed. 

For dateless appeal, sleeveless is usually best (nothing dates quicker than a shoulder line) and for maximum usefulness choose a v neck or scoop neck that reveals your collar bones. Black, obviously, but also useful shades like navy, beige, camel and taupe, along with white if you live a white life (I don't), and any other shade you find becoming to your colouring, especially red, if this year's red suits you. Reds are the most irritating of fashion colours and it can be 10 years before your favourite shade comes round again.

Having noticed that clothing company Wall are following me on Twitter, I paid a visit to their website, where I haven't been for a while.

Oh boy, it make me wish I had a pocket full of cash. Just look at these frocks. I would give my eye teeth for this green one. Along with the cracking colour, note the 40s-babe-friendly details on all these garments: a nice depth of neck to break up the bustline, a bodice design that allows you to wear a bra without it showing, a touch of Japanese asymmetry to the hemline, a waist seam that hits right at the narrowest part of the ribcage. 

Wall clothes are not cheap, but they are an investment because they are all about design, not fashion - they are clothes you can buy and wear for the rest of your life. Made from exquisite fabrics such as pima cotton, finely woven linen and vicuna, they eschew pattern in favour of texture and cut, gently skimming over the body.

Given my druthers, I'd buy a Wall piece every year, like a Shirin Guild or an Issey Miyake, and build up a wardrobe bit by bit. 

www.wall-london.com