The hosts were Galliano, British Vogue's Alexandra Shulman and the aristocratic trend setter Daphne Guinness; the decor was by Michael Howells and the guest list ranged from the American rock icon Prince to Ralph Fiennes to Lady Gabriella Windsor. "It confirmed London as the party capital," says Camilla Morton, author of the fashion manual "A Girl for All Seasons." "Opera singers were dressed in couture, acrobats kept afloat in plastic bubbles, slices of shepherd's pie were served and Amanda Harlech, wearing Chanel couture, looked like Audrey Hepburn from 'My Fair Lady,' " she said.
And the buzz has continued. The Texan socialite Becca Cason Thrash referred to the soirée's "remarkable energy"; the U.S. vintage wear king Cameron Silver called it a "grand event" and "a united front of people loving fashion."
On the other hand, Inès de la Fressange, an ambassador for Roger Vivier, admitted: "It would have been a disaster in Paris because only the assistants would have turned up."
Look no further for the difference between Paris fashion parties and London ones. "The British really have the get up and go for a party, which we lack," de la Fressange said. "I mean we almost find every excuse not to appear."
A big exception is the Sidaction - La Mode Contre le SIDA - French fashion's AIDS event, which is held in the Bois de Boulogne at the Pavillon d'Armenonville. "We have to go," de la Fressange said. Last year, Raquel Welch was one of the speakers. Delightful and self-deprecating, she was the bright light to a lengthy affair that raised more than $850,000.
In ambience, it paled to Elton John's White Tie and Tiara Ball AIDS benefit, where, Thrash recalled, "one Russian paid £800,000 for tennis lessons with Roger Federer" and women danced on the tables to Shirley Bassey. Some Parisians would be horrified by the mix of AIDS and fun - but the bash raised £12 million, or more than $24 million.
"Paris is still the epicenter of fashion and style," Silver said. "No one can replicate that. What is missing is the 'je ne sais quoi' at their parties."
De la Fressange puts it down to "a fear of mixing," a comment echoed by Anne-Marie Verdin, the British-born marketing director at Galeries Lafayette: "The Parisians stay much more in their little groups."
Yet according to the French aristocrat Laure de Gramont, their behavior is more a result of Gallic arrogance than shyness. "They sense that the only people they know are worth knowing," she said. "In London, people come upand say, 'Hello, who are you?' At a party in Paris, if you don't know anybody; you just leave." Gramont, a literary agent, puts it down to insecurity.
"The Parisians have the pose, the languor and are good at looking superior," said John Pearse, London's hip tailor. "What they lack is our humor."
There again, the British drink - and in vast, Viking-like quantities in comparison with the French. And, zut alors, even the ladies get legless. (French women do not get fat or slur their words.) "English reserve is helped by alcohol," Thrash stressed.
There's also a childlike team spirit. "The English travel in packs and do like to make a party wherever they go," Morton said. In her opinion, the Brits are often "the party's icing on the cake" - "they're the ones with leaves or umbrellas in their hair."
Linlee Allen, a former public relations representative for Colette, the Parisian boutique, said, "Creative expression doesn't gel with Parisians."
But then historically, fashion has always been taken more seriously in the French capital. "The rigor stems from that gilt chair display from their pre-war couture shows," Pearse said.
As a result, Paris fashion parties are reputed for their top glamour factor. "The lighting is better, the rooms are spectacular, people are much more beautifully dressed," said Verdin of Galeries Lafayette, noting that "no amount of money" can buy "a French woman's style."
The English - albeit charming saucepots - are famously unkempt. "They dress up to mess up," said Malcolm McLaren, the godfather of punk rock. Then there is the tradition of the London fashion parties, which started in the 1960s and, according to Pearse, a co-owner of the iconic boutique "Granny Takes A Trip," were "a bit of a joke."
The scrums after Ossie Clark's shows from 1969 set the tone. "It was very like the film 'Blow Up,' " he said.
Cut to 40 years later and the fashion parties still swing but cost thousands of pounds. "Catering has gone to dizzying heights in London," Verdin said. "There are the most extraordinary canapés, which are works of art."
Paris's fashion fetes, on the other hand, are going through a lackluster period, with the catering during last season's couture failing to reach the usual towering standards. At Dior's 60th anniversary celebration, held in Versailles, the buffet was strangely sparse, while Dana Thomas, author of the best-selling "Deluxe - How Luxury Lost Its Luster," noticed "dirty dishes and glassware piled up in the planters like trash heaps."
And at a Dom Perignon do, held in Karl Lagerfeld's former hotel particulier, the Champagne was plentiful but guests lined up in the garden to be rewarded with slivers of mushrooms and fairy-sized portions of pureed vegetables.
There was also the presence of the VIP room, which added an "Animal Farm"-like element to both LVMH events. "If you're not inside, you feel humiliated," said Christian Louboutin, the globe-trotting Parisian shoe designer who knows tout le monde.
It divides the party into two - the VIPs versus the NIPs, or Non-Important People. "Basically you're being invited as 'rent-a-crowd': to go and fill the space," McLaren said.
Having VIP rooms during couture - supposedly an elitist season - is a further sign of fashion's corporate culture: Photographs of celebrities wearing the brand further the brand, NIPs obviously do not.
"Listen, there's nothing wrong with promotion," said Louboutin. "But it's not a party." He even suggested there should be "a new expression" for such events.
Recognizing July's mistake, Dior did throw another 60th celebration in September. Cutting the numbers to a few hundred, it was organized by Françoise Dumas, the doyenne of the dîner placé, and had all the right touches, including Elton John on vocals.
In the meantime, the Italian designer Giambattista Valli offers a magic formula for the perfect party. The host with the most last March, he insists it was "the mix" of using a very Parisian hotel particulier, which "had high ceilings and a ballroom"; filling it with guests that covered several generations - from the Monaco hottie Charlotte Casiraghi to the American artist Julian Schnabel; serving "a lot of great vodka;" and playing only British music.
