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. 

Having had a look at the major collections from Paris haute couture week, I would say the general feeling is sobriety.

From every designer, the palette was dark - black, navy and grey for the most part - though there were splashes of other colours (at Dior, take your pick from acid green, acid yellow, acid pink, acid orange...Dior is clearly the only house where anyone's having any fun). 

The fashions were also buttoned up and protective - not snuggly protective, but more like armour. Corsets, basques, double-breasted jackets, heavily constructed skirts, leather trenchcoats. This is a definite sign of the times - clothing for getting caught in the rain or standing in the dole queue. There was little that looked positive or optimistic.

Along with the distinctly military-style wear seen at Wimbledon (trenchcoats on Serena, full quasi-naval uniform for Federer), this is a worrying trend. You tend to get it when the right-wing is on the rise, as seen in about 1938, before the First World War and during the Napoleonic wars. Arm for war and war will follow. The only thing that makes me less worried is that these fashions also offer the distinctively feminine post-war New Look design of skirt. 

There was also a whiff of 1950s glamour about most of the collections - a serious, sober, grown-up era - and conversely the early 70s with a rather Muir-ish Biba-eyed smoky decadent look, particularly the tight head wraps at Lacroix. At Gaultier, we were back in the 60s, with Bardot beehives, but his collection in general was a bit of a mess, as were several others, including Valentino and Chanel. Whatever the decade, with the future uncertain, designers were clearly taking refuge in the past. 

Perhaps the best collection was what may prove to be a swansong - Lacroix's. Once again he is facing bankruptcy, but pulled a rabbit out of a hat with a collection which was sober, restrained and perfectly cut rather than his usual flower-festival style of clashing colours and patterns. (For those who have never seen his flamboyant haute couture style in the flesh though, it is unbelievably beautiful in close-up - much more so than you would ever guess from a picture.) In his new restrained mood, I absolutely love this black dress with its three different fabrics and subtle pattern. It also shows one of the signature shoulder treatments of all the collections: if you want to update your little black cocktail dress this year, an ample chiffon wrap tied around and secured with a pin will be much more on-trend than a shrug.  

For me, the main garment that really stood out in every collection was the jacket. You could probably update your whole wardrobe this winter with just one new jacket - look for something with a bit of neckline interest, which is very flattering for women over 40. 

In the main these jackets seemed designed to shield the wearer from the elements - structured rather than flimsy, and glamourously practical, with proper buttons and often high necklines. Distinctly waisted, too, and soemtimes with a peplum. A peplum is a useful disguise if your waist is thickening, btw, as it introduces a shape you haven't got. 

However, at Dior, always an exaggerated show, Galliano morphed the peplums into full-on version of New Look on steroids, wth padded hips, tiny waists, basques and corsets galore. (He also sent his models down the runway half-dressed, though this need not concern us.) What it does show, though, is a definite return to a tight-waisted silhouette after a decade and a half of a longer, more elongated silhouette. 

It remains to be seen whether the fashion industry can foist this on us. It is good news for me - this style suits me and I have many vintage jackets in this style - but it isn't for most women, who are generally more flattered by an elongated shape than an hourglass one. Many women will greet it with dismay.

For a small-busted British pear with no belly fat, it's a good shape - the wider shoulders balance the silhouette and give you a figure you haven't got. But apple-shaped or oblong women, beware. Your best bet is to hope that those Armani pantsuits with a longer, narrower jacket hit the shops in watered-down and more affordable guise. 

For hundreds more photos and reviews of all the collections, visit Style.com. 

There's a lovely article by Jess Carter-Morley on haute couture in today's Guardian.

It is very rare these days to get a fashion article so thoughtful - at least in the British press. You normally have to look at Suzy Menkes, say, in the International Herald Tribune, to get any bloody sense talked about fashion. The Guardian's normal attitude with the ghastly Hadley Freeman, for instance, is horribly patronising.

In France, fashion is treated with deadly seriousness. It is a bigger industry than steel. 

I'll repeat that - it is a bigger industry than steel.

It employs more people. It brings more money into the economy. The French Government ignores it at its peril.

And fashion is something Paris is proud of. As a Vogue editor once pointed out, the French have a refinement in making things, and it is something they like to show off.

Sadly, in Britain, which is a killjoy society at the best of times (not for nothing are Brits known as 'whingeing Poms' everywhere they go), fashion is treated as if it's completely frou-frou nonsense, rather than an industry like any other, with deadlines and quotas and stock and employees and shipping needs and transport needs and disposal issues.

The truth is, non of us is unaffected by fashion - it is not for 'other' people. Every day, every one of us has to find something to wear, and by that means we fuel the industry.

Anyway, since I am digressing, what this article captures as few others do is the magic of the haute couture - the theatricality of it, the beauty of it, the perfection of it. Of course, it is a total waste of time, just as Cirque du Soleil is a waste of time and having a massage is a waste of time and every work of art is a waste of time.

But then, if we're going to be this functional about time, as Joanna Lumley once said: "Oh might as well just give up and die of boredom..."