FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AND GUCCI, Give me Glamour

My skin crawls at the thought of life without glamour. After all, what is the ocean without its sparkling light? The sun without the warmth on your skin? Chocolate without the ability to melt in your mouth?

I want to be submerged in diamonds, I want to feel the seductive tease of ostrich-feather-trim sleeves tracing my skin, the movement of fringe as it flows through a crowd. The height of my stilettos as I charge towards a dance floor. The bounce of a fresh blow out as I detangle strands from my lip gloss.

Sipping my free champagne surrounded by fashion insiders, I had an epiphany. “When is glamour appropriate? If not now, when? If not at a party for a fashion brand in a glamorous city, in a spectacular venue, when else? If not at a Fashion Week after-party, or sitting at a 5-star hotel where else?" Where is it? Who sucked the disco out of industry parties? And will it only take the likes of Cher herself and Versace to resuscitate the excitement of sheer sequins on skin?

When did "trying" become taboo, even in the industry? When did people start calculating whether to restrict themselves at events because maximalism seems too committed? Flirt with me fashion, give me glamour.

If the fashion industry limits its ability to be fabulous, then we really have a problem. When did we start dehydrating ourselves of all things divine? At this rate, will Divas soon be an endangered species? There was a time when people who worked in fashion, dressed like a giant billboard of adoring the industry at these events. One look and you know, they devour art. Is it just me, or has it become reserved for work and not play? Like there's an entitlement to be effortless even at parties?  When did people start carefully curating whether others would think they’ve “tried” or “look effortless” rather than wearing something that brings them true excitement at events?

For those secretly grieving it, for the love of God and Gucci, Give me Glamour.

Tell me, flip-flopping around in those costume Disney princess heels at 5 years old (aka the training wheels for fashion), You felt alive, didn't you? You felt the possibility of what being an adult could mean for you. Your toes touched glamour for the first time. Suddenly you realised you don't need a Prince to receive status, you don't need to fit into your "cool older sister's" clothes to be cool. You're a princess. Because your shoes told you so.

Trading extravagance for an “effortless” look at actual fashion parties is the worst Pokémon card trade of all time. As much as I genuinely adore personal effortless style (...and who knows how to do that better than fashion industry folks - and everyone at this party because wow, gorgeous. They still do it better than anyone else) I just need there to be more spaces to sparkle. Because where are we expected to dazzle? If not at a party, then where? Where is the disco?

The second your wrists feel the wave of a bell sleeve, you glide. The second you wear something that allows movement, you’re likely to swish around. Put on a well-fitted suit and you’re more likely to get a promotion.

Which leads me to the scariest question in fashion of all... By restricting glamour at parties, are we restricting our ability to party?

For once in my entire existence I chose a "safer" (underwhelming and unflattering outfit) over a sheer chiffon floor-length gown I intended to wear recently because of how casual the party was. I know, gasp. Who is she? Never again. I was deprived and felt underdressed. I was in 6-inch platform heels and a sequin skirt but still, deprived, dehydrated from all things divine. Even though my toned down look was probably overdoing it to the standards these days.

So to my epiphany and question, "when is glamour appropriate?" The answer is, "Suck my big fat disco, screw your dress code, give me glamour, always, anywhere. I will dress myself based on who I am, not because of where I am." Because if not me, who? If not now, then when?

 Yes, you look beautiful without glamour, but your spirit sparkles with it. Without glamour at fashion parties... flowers may as well be black and white.