Unlike the winning qualities of Sinead Donnelly's dress, few were feeling "floaty and very comfortable" in a sticky Ballybrit yesterday, writes Miriam Lordat the Galway races
Negotiating the Budweiser bottleneck between parade ring and Tote was near impossible, comfort an alien concept to the hobbling hordes who had long lost feeling in their toes.
But that's the deal in Galway on Ladies Day. Gone are the days when a nice frock, a borrowed hat and a smear of lipstick could turn heads.
This is the coalface of competitive couture. Aggressive dressing. Fashion warfare, fiercely fought and expensively bought. Ladies Day is an explosion of colour, under clouds of perfume, on a sea of drink.
For a snapshot of young Ireland at play, it is fascinating.
False tans, manicures, pedicures, designer this and that, congestion in the champagne tent, big sunglasses with big logos, handbags that cost a fortune and those bloody hats.
The men used to regard all this carry-on with resigned good humour. They're nearly as bad now. On the train down, groups of lads who looked like they'd just got out of bed, boarded with their sports bags and six packs. And suit bags, which they placed carefully on the overhead racks before cracking open the beer.
There is a reason for all this. The festival week nightlife is not for the faint-hearted, but the fellas looking sharp in their suits with gelled hair and designer shades are up to the challenge. So are the girls, who arrive with their hat boxes and matching luggage and eye up the talent.
Taxi drivers know the score. "It's a meat market this week. They'll all be out on the pull. It's shocking." The initially beautiful young things lay siege to the city centre, the Radisson and, latterly, the Clayton Hotel. It's heady stuff. Gardaí reckon that 30,000 revellers packed into the bars and streets around Quay Street.
Remarkably, given our less than shining record in the area of large crowds and drink, there has been no trouble at all.
PJ Gibbons, editor of the magazine Social and Personal and one of the judges in the best dressed competition, dropped into the Radisson at midnight. Two women beside him fainted. It wasn't the sight of PJ that made them swoon, but the heat.
Stamina is a great thing. The partying thousands dragged themselves up and out to the races, putting on a parade of finery that couldn't have been imagined by the state of them the night before.
Just like the racing fraternity, image-conscious fashionistas have their own strange language. "Colour-coded wrist bands are the new This is Not a Plastic Bag," a lady told her friend outside the tented village. If you don't know, don't ask.
Sensibly, the Taoiseach got outta town yesterday morning. Holding the fort in the FF "tint" was Minister Noel Dempsey, with Minister of State Conor Lenihan and Chief Whip Tom Kitt still holding on gallantly after three days at the races. Ministers of State Mary Wallace and Seán Power also made an appearance. New Government Press Secretary Eoin Ó Neachtáin came down to see what all the fuss is about.
There was still a full house in the tint, enjoying lamb, halibut and the hats. Michael Colgan of the Gate Theatre arrived by helicopter with businessmen Frank O'Kane and Seán Mulryan after a lobster lunch in the Abbeyglen Hotel in Clifden.
The tranquillity of Clifden was attracting a lot of refugees from Ballybrit. Bill Cullen and Jackie Lavin were off there for dinner - by chopper, naturally - with financier John Cunningham, who told us he is about to launch a "lending facility" for people who want to buy overseas property.
"There is a huge market in the quality of life investment market," he told us. Could he interest us in a €4 million palazzo in Tuscany? The country is gone mad.
Dublin restaurateur Ronan Ryan, of Town Bar and Grill, was brought down to earth when the helicopter in which he travelled was forced to land due to low cloud, and his party had to schlep their way across muddy fields in Gort and suffer the indignity of being chased by a herd of cows. Worst of all, a prominent Sunday newspaper gossip columnist lost a Prada shoe in the mud.
And so to the winner.
Farmer Brown, a bay gelding, won the Guinness Galway Hurdle for the Newmarket-based Plantation Stud. But did the crowd outside sponsor Anthony Ryan's tent in the main concourse care? They didn't even look at the race, because the Best Dressed and Best Hat results were being announced.
Sinead Donnelly from Navan, but living in London where she works as a property analyst, caught the judges' eye with her "floaty and very comfortable" ivory dress by Alice Temperly.
"Very Grecian," commented judge Celia-Holman Lee approvingly, giving yet another interview in the parade ring, where the winners assembled after the horses left. "She stands there like a dream, and she walks beautifully." For the record, the dress (expensive) was bought in Selfridges. The hat (a steal) was bought in a charity shop. The Miu Miu bag was bought in Milan (bargain). The Christian Laboutin shoes were bought in Paris (outrageous).
Sinead, who looked stunning, won a €4,000 voucher for Anthony Ryan's department store and a trophy by sculptor Donnacha Cahill.
Best hat went to secondary school teacher Eva Hayes, from Limerick. Her lovely red confection of roses and feathers landed her a trip for two to Boston.