What would Audrey do?

I think it may be my imagination, but the swathes of London's fashionable ladies seem to have taken an elegant turn of late. Perhaps it's the nip of cold in the air that's forced them out of their tacky cruise clothes and into their tailored winter coat, or the lingering recession that's forced them to put on a brave face and some ladylike gloves; or maybe, just maybe, it's the whisper of Hepburn in the winter winds that's getting us all riled up.
I've spoken before about my indisputable increase of interest when it comes to all things 'up-do', but it's not just my beehive that's got a distinct whiff of Audrey about it. My pearls, too, have had a few more outings lately, and I have got such a lot of use out of my vintage black gloves. With an auction of Audrey Hepburn's rags taking place just next week, it wouldn't be beyond the realms of possibility that I have become spongelike, and by a process of osmosis have subconsciously absorbed all things Audrey.
The cutesy side bar that corresponded with Style's coverage of the auction made me chuckle; if you didn't see it in the Sunday Times just gone, it was just a silly little piece about how one can live as a Hepburn in a world of Hiltons. But between the superficial digs at Paris Hilton's lifestyle, there was some damning evidence that to live as Hepburn would not only make us much more classy and elegant women, but would make us better people. Whilst I would never give a Parisian lip-curl to peroxide blonde and pink girls, I've never fitted in with that crowd, and never wanted to. I adore Audrey, her box set takes pride of place on my buckling bookcase, and I could watch Breakfast at Tiffany's over and over again (not least of all because when cat gets wet at the end I want to cry and rescue him and squish my own little kitty). If it wasn't for the threat of pneumonia, I'd don some capri paints, a nautical sweater and some dolly shoes and go skulking about the corners of Tiffany myself, but as it stands I'll have to make do with watching the DVD at home in my balding Uggs. The world would be a much better place if we all asked, what what Audrey do?
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