Fashion contestant right out of her field

Herald reporter Angela Gregory (sunglasses) lines up with contestants for yesterday's Fashions in the Field event. Pictures / Greg Bowker

Imitation, we are told, is the sincerest form of flattery. However, I've now discovered that being a copy-cat is the shortest route to public humiliation.

After three years of covering Auckland's Fashions in the Field competition at the Boxing Day races, I decided there was only one way to nail a truly authentic take on the event - enter it.

Buoyed by last year's winner, a non-model who purchased her outfit off the rack, I decided to see if it could be done again.

In keeping with that theme I decided to prepare an outfit starting with the same dress and shoe shops as she did.

A quick visit to Sabine on Ponsonby Rd set me up with several options.

A week-long starvation diet before Christmas did not appeal, so I opted for the least revealing and most forgiving outfit. The pretty, flowery and flouncy chiffon number I borrowed then became the palette I had to work with.

The shop assistants thought pink would bring it alive, and while it is my least favourite colour I headed off to Andrea Biani, just as last year's winner had. There I found the perfect pink shoes, even if they were a size too small.

From that moment my outfit became an obsession, a nightly pageant of assembling, dis-assembling and re-assembling.

The piece-de-resistance was my $2 plastic hat festooned with lacy ribbon and $2 flowers.

Craftily, with super glue, I repeated the ribbon motif on my otherwise garish pink bag, spotted on a Queen St stall.

But the first thing I thought when I tried on my outfit with all its keenly hunted accessories was "Mrs Bucket", or "Mrs Bouquet" as the television character preferred.

"Less is more" I repeatedly reminded myself as I stripped away rings and earrings, but still I reminded myself of a Christmas tree - in a bucket.

Finally, and not feeling particularly pretty in pink, I was resigned to what was clearly never going to be a winning option.

But it was too late to bolt - I had already trumpeted my brilliant idea to the newsroom.

At Ellerslie yesterday I was so nervous I felt like a dose of horse tranquiliser, which would have officially made me a medicated follower of fashion.

But you're not allowed to do that sort of thing at the races so I sculled a couple of glasses of champagne instead and hid behind the large sunglasses which I thought rather nattily balanced my well-proportioned hips.

In one of life's little ironies I turned to a friend of a friend who used to be a model for advice on how to walk.

"The most important thing is to enjoy it, look relaxed and confident ... don't worry too much," was what she told me.

Her name was Ruth.

And she won it.