By rights, I should have posted this yesterday but I was a mite...polluted. No, that's too circumspect...I had the Exxon Valdez of hangovers...a dark, inky pool of regret and recrimination...that required intravenous drips of chicken soup and sparkling water interspersed with bouts of sleep and blankly staring at the walls.

The cause...a fabulously festive bash...held on a seasonally appropriate evening where the weather was destined to swing from rain to sleet to snow to freezing temperatures. In other words, a night where the sensible thing to do is put on your pajamas and sit by the radiator...not try to decide which of your party duds will keep you warm and dry.

The final choice...a stiff, black, silk maxi skirt (similar to the one below in terms of cut)...was surprisingly utilitarian. It could be gathered in one hand whilst negotiating puddles...proved effective in blocking the chill winds...and, most importantly, allowed me to wear my day-to-day boots without anyone being any the wiser. The latter enabling me to feel slightly smug as I watched stiletto shod party go-ers first attempting to wade through slush earlier in the evening and stand upright on the ice rink that the streets and sidewalks turned into as the evening progressed.

The rest of the "You be colorful, I'll be warm and gothic and vaguely reminiscent of a raven" ensemble...ALC cashmere cardigan with leather pailettes...Pamela Love talon cuff...Hermes Constance handbag...Frye Chelsea boots...Banana Republic spike stud earrings...