Kate hates christmas: The party dress

The festive season is upon us, and it seems only British to balance out the seasonal cheer with some good, old-fashioned whingeing. <--break->“></p>

<p>Obviously I don’t hate everything about Christmas, but there are certain elements which I feel we could do without. The turkey, wrapping paper and fairy lights can stay, but can we re-think the novelty jumpers, and maybe the sensory overload that is the X-Factor finale?</p>

<p>Number one on my list of Christmas anti-cheer is the party dress. Enjoy with a glass of mulled wine and an expression of mild dissatisfaction.</p>

<p>It’s short, it’s tight, it’s uncomfortable. Never has an item promised so much and delivered so little as the festive party dress.</p>

<p>They appear at the same time every year, glittering unnervingly from high street windows. They promise twinkling laughter under mistletoe, Christmas romance, miraculously longer legs…Within their shiny, sequined folds dwell the hopes and dreams of a thousand Christmas parties where Chris from accounts might ask you out.</p>

<p>The party dress is a cruel mistress. Plastic mannequins, and maybe Nicole Scherzinger, look lovely in their feminine, sparkly frocks, but it’s very difficult to pull one off without feeling like a human Christmas bauble (it’s also physically quite difficult to pull one of, but that’s another story).</p>

<p>You know deep down as you queue up in shops infused with an air of panic and mince pies, that you will never wear this dress again. It will lie crumpled at the back of your wardrobe, making friends with the lycra leggings and that woollen cape you bought two years ago because Kate Moss had one.</p>

<p>There’s also the risk that if Chris from accounts doesn’t ask you out, you’ll have to endure the rejection dressed like a glittery cocktail sausage. As you lurk by the free bar planning your next hit on the snack table, you will realise that glitter, gold and pink lace don’t actually suit you. And they look worse covered in Dorito dust…</p>

<p>Take my advice: Walk straight past the dress aisle and head for the pyjamas. They’re a safer choice, and more conducive to a straight week of eating chocolate oranges in front of the TV.</p>

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