On the Eurostar I found myself next to my favourite bag lady Susannah Hunter. Had a quick nosy through her latest collection and without any hesitation ordered the apple green travel bag. No self discipline whatsoever in making cut backs.
Straight to L'Hotel, I slipped on my lame´coat and walked to the Jardin des Tuileries for Dior. In homage to Christian Dior the show tent was drenched in his favourite perfume, lily of the valley, and the models made their entrances through a huge gilded fretwork of flowers. A masterful collection, as we expect from John Galliano, elegant Dior grey pinstriped suits, brocade jackets, exotic printed chiffon - and silk dresses in vibrant colours sweeping the floor, dripping in coloured stones and silver ethnic jewels. Exquisite and also very wearable.
Leaving the show I was set upon by a crowd I thought were after my Poiret coat. Having been showered with sand - and shouted at - I realised they were anti-fur demonstrators intent on ruining the musquash collar on my Twenties coat. Musquash, by the way, is a rodent.
I legged it out of the park and fell into the safety of Colette - crammed with fashionistas dripping in fur - to calm my nerves. Popped into Galliano and nearly died over a pair of shoes the same price as my outstanding gas bill; a fortune. It's hard to know which takes priority, but we know what fashionistas would do.