Buckle Up for the Frock Fest

It’s the best news I’ve had all week: the Academy Awards fast approaching and fashion tragics can tune in two hours early to watch A-listers show off the gowns and jewels they've had thrown at them for Hollywood's biggest night. Frock porn! Yippee!

I have a date with the daughters. They have been instructed to ditch all other offers and get home as quickly as possible. Dinner will be served in front of the telly, and be careful any bloke who dares interrupt. Fox Sports News will have to wait.
Who really cares about who wins? After all history says if you look ugly, have a disease or scary condition or play a real person doing it tough, chances are you will take the little gold guy home. And so watch out for Colin Firth with that stutter or James Franco with ADHD, hemmed in and sweaty, drinking his own pee with a broken arm which needs to be hacked off. And for the chicks it has to be Natalie Portman, barking mad, en pointe and wasted after a year of agonizing training. She might be given a run for her money by Nicole Kidman, crippled with grief or Annette Bening, lesbian doctor, neurotic and on the brink. She deserves an Oscar for taming Warren Beatty and landing great roles despite her graceful Botox-free maturity.

The big night is all about the frocks.

Who doesn't love a red carpet parade?

It is comforting to know my Californian sister-in-law is planning a similar evening at home with her mum. Two sassy intellectuals planted in front of the box indulging in the world of fancy dresses and revelling in the on screen gossip about how well or atrociously the stars scrub up for the cameras. They are taking the event more seriously than me and could even be bothered having a view about the awards. They are crossing their fingers for "The Fighter" and for Melissa Leo. If ugly hair, trailer trash attitude and intense smoking habit count for anything, she has the gong for Best Supporting Actress in the bag.

My father, who cares nothing for pretty frocks but has seen all the serious contenders for Best Film, points out “The Social Network” cannot possibly win because the film makers neglected to supply audiences with sub titles. That film may have a clever script, but he thinks it was lost on the actors who had problems articulating it.

We can expect our Nic to front up in a tight, mermaid style gown in shades of nude. I don’t understand how she gets away with it. I’m pale, but if I wore beige dresses, I would look deceased. Wonder what our Jacki will wear? It doesn’t really matter, just so long as she is comfortable. Where on earth did that nomination come from? And Natalie is so cute and so pregnant, it doesn't really matter what she wears so long as she smiles sweetly. Will Meryl be there? I love it that she thumbs her nose at strapless and dares to wear sleeves.

So grab a glass or brew the tea, turn off the phone and settle back and for one happily frivolous night of the year, this fabulous, meaningless frock fest. You could even wear a ball gown. Me? I’ll be in my trackie dacks.