BAFTA's and what it means to me.

Oh goodness. it is the BAFTAs and I am struggling what to wear. If there is one thing I loathe, it is having to put on a long dress.  I become a complete frump. I look in the mirror and I look like my great aunt.  I was lucky enough to find a Martin Margiela close fitting mermaid number with a bit of a train in black silk jersey. Generally, in a long dress, I am so uncomfortable I want to go home and strip off straight away. Last week, because of the cleanse, I managed to lose four pounds, so I felt incredible. But since arriving home, I am probably fat again.  Oh hell's bells, this is all too much. For fear of being boring, I shall describe last night.
In any case, back to the BAFTAs. It is really becoming a very glamourous event, and the Royal Opera House is giving it a credibility and status that is luring the biggest stars of Hollywood, from George Clooney to Brad Pitt and Meryl Streep.
Of course, I wanted my favourite Gary Oldman to win. The other day, I was in my house in Los Angeles and I heard someone coming in. I screamed out, "Who is it?" and the man said "Alan Rickman." Assuming and hoping it was, I went out of my bedroom to find Gary Oldman chatting with my lovely friend Jack English. Gary has charm on film and off, displaying all the discretion he embodied in Tinker Tailor; so underplayed and so very correct.
I have seen the film three times. The first, I thought it was terrible, but now I'm totally addicted. Gary should have won Best Actor. (Let's be fair, how many more times does he have to play Batman?)
The Artist took the night, as it should have - clever, daring and a twist on an old tradition. It was beautifully made and fun, with Ludovic Bource winning best musical score.  The dog should have won too, or at least given a prize, along with the Joey the horse in War Horse.
Everything went to the French - the music, script, film and actor - so at least the English stayed loyal to what they believe is good. Clever Harvey Weinstein for always picking a winner. Pity no nominations for WE, which deserved Best Costumes. Come on, let's be correct: the film was better than just okay and the costumes by Arienne Phillips were stunning.
I had the chance also to speak to the very eloquent and charming Secretary of the Arts Ed Vaizey, who said I should come home and do something important with the arts.  Little did he know I am trying.

With one more day in London there is a lot to do.  I have fitted nearly all my close male friends and now for fashion week, my son and the certainty of a singing lesson.