A rather fabulous party - Skate at Somerset House hosted by Tiffany

Yes, I know I have been M I A, and I promise a proper apology and explanation is forthcoming in another post. But right now I am feeling all squiffy and happy thanks to Somerset House and Tiffany and think it would be much nicer to tell you all about that instead.

I's not often that I get invited to many glamorous parties through work - architecture journalism really isn't that swanky - but there have been a few exceptions recently. One of those was being given my editor's invitation for the Skate at Somerset House launch party, hosted tonight by Tiffany. I took one of my old war (graduate training scheme) buddies R, who enjoys a free glass of champagne and watching attractive but annoying well-bred men fall on their bums probably even more than I do.

The event was very... well, it was just very. As well as copious amounts of champagne, there was also apple and cinnamon cocktails, hot chocolate in the form of steaming hot cups of full fat milk and cream and a whole stick of solid chocolate to melt in it to your taste and, of course, mulled wine.

We watched Paloma Faith, clad in deep green floor length velvet coat with fur trim and matching hat, sing Santa Baby and one of her own songs (I think it was hers - it was about the advantages of dating much older men) and then turn on the lights on the Somerset House/Tiffany christmas tree, which to be honest was a bit of an anti climax - they were too tasteful to be really impressive. The tree was nice, just slightly overshadowed by the surreal goings on around it.  

We got stuck in to the canapes including tiny pots of soup with cheese sticks, pate on teeny tiny bits of toast, similarly small blinis, small copper bowls of yummy beef stew with horseradish mash, prawn and crayfish cocktail and miniature christmas puddings that were almost like truffles. 

Then we watched a rather mad, but very enjoyable, performance by a man in a lycra jesters suit who white-boy rapped over a mixture of classic swing and hip hop and watched Henry Holland, Sarah Beeney, Jamie Winstone and editor of Elle (and my idol) Lorraine Candy and her very cute little girl skating round and round in circles for a while.

Sadly, I was unprepared and didn't have my camera with me. My phone battery was also dying, but I did attempt to grab some snaps for you. 

The tree - adorned with Tiffany's decorations worth the price of a flat in west London according to Paloma Faith. I think she was joking but can't be sure...

A man dressed as a jester, rapping and scatting to a hip hop version of King of the Swingers from the Jungle Book. Seriously. I'm probably betraying my complete lack of cultural awareness by being unable to identify him, but he was actually quite good although I can see the novelty wearing off pretty fast.

Lorraine Candy. Honestly.

That's Henry Holland on the left there. Have we firmly established that I don't have a career as a paparazzo waiting for me if the journalism thing goes awry yet? Jolly good.

After a few glasses of champagne, we did attempt to skate ourselves. R was intent on accidentally on purpose crashing into a good looking (and rich looking) young man, but chickened out at the last minute. 

I don't think I've ever seen such a well-dressed crowd of skaters in my life. It was all picture postcard fluffy fur hats, shearling trims and cashmere scarves. So many women in so many beautiful coats! There were also some pretty tragic examples of plastic surgery addiction on display - no-one needs to have their lips that full, even if he fillers do act as insulation from the cold.

As we left we were handed a Tiffany's gift bag containing a box of notecards and envelopes. No jewellery unfortunately, but you can't have it all.

I wish I had more photos to show you that aren't just blue blurry messes, but I'm sure there will be plenty populating the pages of our illustrious tabloid press tomorrow morning for you to enjoy...