The call came through from Paris towards the end of last summer. For some reason, the organisers of the Crillon Ball (or Le Bal de la Haute Couture) were summoning me to be a ‘chevalier’ or escort or date. Whatever it was, I said ‘Oui.’ ‘Finally; I thought to myself, ‘my grandfather’s white tie ‘n’ tails will come in useful. Finally, my childhood obsession is going to be fulfilled – I’m going to be Prince Charming.’
But I didn’t get the…

