There I was thinking black tie was a challenging dress code, all the while blissfully unaware that there’s a rung above even that level of pretension. It makes black tie look almost practical by comparison. I’m talking about white tie, a code of formality so unnecessary that it boggles the mind, especially in this day and age. We’re talking top hats and tails here, along with floor-length gowns and elbow-length gloves. 

The truly preposterous thing? Oh, I’ll tell you. The firm has decided that its annual philanthropic event is going to be a white tie affair, going forward. It’s ludicrous, but there’s nothing to be done other than to go along with it – once Gwen gets an idea into her head, there’s no stopping her. I suppose that’s why she runs a multi-million dollar media empire, but I don’t see how this ties (pun intended) into that. 

I mean, you’d think something more up to date would be a better option. This is just forcing everyone – guests included – into a position of having to hire out formal wear. Moreover, we all have to pretend we dress like that all the time, right down to the clutch purse the size of a packet of playing cards that’s liable to get lost in the loo. Shoulder bags, I’m told, are out of the question, so that’s one more thing to buy. Leather shoulder bag police are sure to be out in force at the event, if I know Gwen like I think I do. 

She’s always had a thing against by liking for a good slouchy bag. God knows why – it’s not like her stupid high-tech briefcase is any better. You’d think I was lugging around a garbage bag, from the way she looks at it; it was actually quite expensive. I just happen to like being able to carry stuff – a refillable water bottle, a book for the tram, a spare pair of sockettes.

Well, I guess there’s nothing for it. I’ve got to spend my lunch break figuring out how to hire a ballgown.