Sartorially speaking, this summer was supposed to be different. I wasn't supposed to be still looking for an outfit that would see me through a ball and two weddings, just 48 hours before the first event, writes Róisín Ingle
In fact, in order to avoid this very scenario, a few weeks ago I cunningly employed my younger sister - who happens to work in a boutique recently frequented by Ms Spears - as my personal stylist. The only problem with having your sister as your stylist is that she is not bothered about being diplomatic when it comes to telling you things you don't want to hear. What Not To Wear? Get That Thing Off You Immediately You Big Eejit, was more like it.
I'd be fondling a particularly covetable chiffon wraparound dress, for example, and she'd snatch it out of my hands with a dismissive "that won't go anywhere near you." In more sympathetic moments she'd offer a soothing "sure, maybe you'll grow into it one day."
"Your only hope is Wallis," meant she was in a really bad mood and I nearly staged a walk-out when I emerged from a changing room one afternoon and she shouted at the top of her voice, "Would you ever go to Arnott's and get yourself measured for a piece of underwear that actually fits you?" I tell you, she'd scare the hipsters off Trinny and Susannah.
As the businesslike woman with the measuring tape did her embarrassing thing a few days later, I tried to work out whether the stress caused by the build-up to these formal functions was worth the few hours of fun that would be had at the occasion itself. Caroline and Barry's nuptials in Derry today. Fionnuala and Mick's wedding reception on a canal barge next weekend. I wasn't doubting that they'd be special events, I was just wondering why I always had to get myself into such a state of anxiety in the run-up to these big days and nights out.
I don't think I'm alone. It seems that frenzied preparation has become more and more the point of these functions lately. What with the dress search, the fake tan, the hair removal, and the accessories hunt, I'm estimating some people spend at least a week in pre-production for gigs that are over in the blink of a fake eyelash. Never mind what they say about staying in, by my reckoning getting ready is really the new going out.
I decided that instead of stressing about it, I would embrace this trend. With the help of the sister stylist and a supportive friend, I found an acceptable skirt and top combination which didn't make me feel like a frump. The skirt even had ribbons, which is always good. Then I asked a make-up artist friend, who lives around the corner from me, to work her magic for myself and a couple of other ladies who were also off to the ball. She kindly agreed to come to my gaff and bring her pots, lotions and brushes with her. By Saturday afternoon there were six women lined up on the make-up conveyor belt.
One friend, who was wearing a gorgeous little black dress, was having an underwear issue and wanted an honest opinion on these "smooth support cups" that were supposed to mould invisibly in a gravity defying manner to her bust area. This was a difficult one because the instructions were in German and it was almost impossible to figure out what we were supposed to do with the curved pieces of sticking plaster.
One of the token boys present at the Getting Ready Party came into the room at the precise moment when we were assembling the cups, and if we had been sticking pins in a voodoo effigy of him he couldn't have looked more offended. "Have some respect, there are some things a man should never have to see," he said, scooting sharpish back to the kitchen. In the end, fellas, she went cupless instead.
I left the ladies at one stage to pop across the road to the local hairdresser, Dora Jeans, where I sat beside pensioners getting perms and had my hair put up for one-third of the price that I normally pay. When I got back to the house with my lovely bridesmaid hairdo I passed around some olives, popped a bottle of champagne and let all my pre-ball cares melt away.
So, if getting ready is the bit that gives you the biggest headache, make it painless by doing it in company and in style. Get the canapés out. Hire someone to make you look as lovely as possible. Take pictures of each other to record the moment. After you've done all this, you might even decide that's quite enough for one day, take off all your glad rags and watch DVDs all night instead. Me? What can I say? I had a ball.