The Ballgoer’s Guide to Style

My first Opening Ball was memorable for a myriad of reasons. For a start, my flat-mate went from drunk to sobbing in zero to sixty and it was the first time I learned what the power of a few Apple Sourz shots too many can really do (I suppose I was a bit Disney-naïve before I hit Fife). It was a rude awakening as to what was to come in the next four years, but was an even ruder style awakening: I spied tartan trousers and Chanel handbags side-by-side and I swiftly clocked that this was going to be a whole new sartorial world (see what I told you about the Disney thing?).