'There's something in the ritual of lace that draws us to it at the time of year when tradition matters most'
Around this time of year, each year, I start to crave lace. Mulled wine, mince pies, insanely expensive, small, decorative woodland animals, and lace. Every festive season, regular as clockwork, nothing whatsoever to do with fashion. Luckily, I'm not alone: also around this time, every season, with cheerful disregard of what was or was not on the catwalk, every store you walk into is selling lace dresses.
It's a skin substitute, you see; that's my theory. In summer, when the spaghetti-strap vests come out as soon as the mercury hits 24 degrees and shorts are the default bottom-half uniform of the entire population under 35, you can get up close and personal with as much bare flesh in the average lift as you would in a hot tub in the Playboy mansion. But come October, our skin disappears under a tortoiseshell of 60 denier opaques. And by now we're missing skin, and lace is the next best thing, so out come the lace party dresses.
It's not just perviness, to be fair. There's something in the ritual of lace that draws us to it at the time of year when tradition matters most. Miuccia Prada once said lace tracks women through their lives, from christening gowns to wedding dresses, lingerie to mourning garb. She missed out Christmas parties – perhaps they're too chic, at Prada, for Wham! and Secret Santa – but she's on to something. Lace is a touchstone for special-occasion dress, a lucky charm for nights that feel important.
The meaning of lace changes with the colour. White is holy and snowy and untouchable. Red is raucous and festive, a here-come-the-girls clap-and-shriek of a fabric. Black means sex or death – sex, generally, unless you drape it over your head and sob, which is a bit un-Christmassy. Navy, dark green and burgundy are the hardest to pin down – and, therefore, perhaps the easiest to wear.
But in any colour, lace is a promise of, and so a substitute for, bare skin. In other words, you don't need lots of both. A long lace dress with slim lace sleeves looks very grand, and instantly rebuffs any suggestion of sleaze; on the other hand, a slip-of-a-thing nightie dress looks more chic with a lace trim than in all-over lace. No need to overegg the pudding. It's not quite December yet, after all.
• Jess wears dress, £790, by Carven, from harrods.com. Shoes, £235, stuartweitzman.com.
Styling: Melanie Wilkinson. Hair and makeup: Dani Richardson using Kiehl's Skin Rescuer.