Analysing the fashion fillies at Auckland Cup Week

Auckland Cup Day. File photo / Dean Purcell

Today is Auckland Cup Day and I'm trotting off to Ellerslie to be a guest of Gucci at their bespoke private suite in the Ascot stand away from the hoi polloi. I Spy-ed Gilda Kirkpatrick, Simon Gault, Judith Tabron and Mark Francis there for Saturday's Derby race guzzling champagne and looking effortlessly stylish in ensembles that were effortlessly expensive and brand loyal. No monogrammed LV totes dangling from gym-toned arms here.

Whatever your respective style, raising the fashion stakes is the aim du jour at Auckland Cup Week. Coming in first past the post is the dream for most pretty fillies, but many opt for strange styles and bizarre behaviour that fizzle rather than sizzle.

Which begs the question: are you a thoroughbred glamour girl or a fashion foul slapper?

1. The Thoroughbred

The look: Summer sophisticate.

How to get it: Arrive home from the salon with your locks piled up in a loose chignon. Choose between the cream Roland Mouret dress you picked up on sale at Harvey Nicks last year or the lace Collette Dinnigan sheath you bought in Sydney. Opt for the black strappy Choos and the over-the-top Philip Treacy headpiece. Less is not more when you need to illustrate money's not tight, despite your husband's property developments being put on hold. Flag the gloves that ooze Dior glamour. It's steaming hot today and you're afraid you'll get weird stares like Kate Lynch got on Saturday with her lace gloves, an evident tribute to Madonna. Besides, hubby recently bought that new diamond tennis bracelet for Christmas and you want to wear it and make the girls jealous. Your personal grooming is immaculate thanks to Tatiana's regular manicures, pedicures and fannicures.

The date: Your twice-married husband who fancies himself as the next Mark Hotchin (without the grief).

The transport: The Porsche Cayenne.

The seating: Join your group at the table on the Cuvee lawn. Name drop Louis Vuitton as much as you can, thereby hinting heavily that's why you're not in the Gucci box. Eye up the other trophy wives and feign delight with generous amounts of air kissing and gushing compliments. Table-hopping is appropriate for short periods to show off the aforementioned diamond bracelet.

The plan: Play the doting wife and the gloating best friend, while perusing the tables and neighbouring marquees for other corporate types who ooze money and prestige. No harm in looking. You may become ex-wife number three in the future.

2. The fashion foul

The look: Garish glamour.

How to get it: Glaze yourself with fake tan while being wary of it trickling off your body in the beating sun like a leg of ham during basting. To your ironed tresses attach unruly hair pieces that you've carefully selected in the same shade of bleached blonde. Clip on the flimsy feather fascinator you picked out in varying shades of turquoise (to match your coloured contact lenses). Heave your bosom into the blue halter-neck dress with its handkerchief hemline. Blissfully ignore the black strapless bra sitting six inches higher than the scooping back of your dress. Slip on the strappy stilettos. Hope the crossover strap won't rub off your spray-on throughout the day. Check your make-up and apply another layer of gloss to your nude lips. It matches your acrylic French manicure. Chug back a RTD and hope to meet Prince Charming later at the track.

The date: Your pack of girlfriends in husband-hunting mode.

The transport: Pitch in with the girls for a stretch limo.

The seating: Park yourselves on the lawn on picnic rugs and pop open bottles of sparkling and packets of Pringles. You and the gals will disgrace yourselves later on the dance floor at the Cuvee Lounge when the sun sets, so get your rest in now.

The plan: Find Mr Right Now and entice him home to the flat for a night he will remember. Pity you won't, after sculling too many glasses of Lindauer.