One pervasive trend shook (and not in a good way) the Metropolitan Museum gala to its core last week: ruffles. We feared that Eva Longoria was about to be eaten by a dress made of GM beetroot shavings, while Claudia Schiffer's concertinas of fluff came in a shade of blue that you would expect to see in an asylum. Even Mischa Barton, who intuitively relegated ruffles to the erogenous zone du jour (the shoulders), failed to induce a similar level of subtle romanticism to the drab ensemble that was the rest of her Missoni gown. If fashion's A* students failed to pull it off in front of the headmaster and headmistress (Giorgio Armani and Anna Wintour respectively), the rest of us stand no chance. Or do we?

The advantage that we mortals have over the red carpeteers is our ability to resist hyperbole. In the real world (far away from the museums, flashbulbs and worldwide publicity) the ruffle is much less voracious. If flounces swallow more than 50 per cent of an ensemble, we know that we risk being handed some maracas and asked to dance a rumba. As with any “statement” trend, limiting it to one item per outfit is crucial; this also allows for said item to stand out. The Burberry coat pictured far right - a steely combination of themilitary and the back-archingly architectural - illustrates why ruffles demand silent partners.

Whether it's vague memories of hippy women sucking suggestively on Cadbury Flakes or the long blonde locks and tiered frilly skirts of the Timotei girl, ruffles are embedded in British nostalgia - especially if strewn with chintz (just ask Laura Ashley). Topshop is doing tiered floral skirts that skim the knee (the kind of thing that you will doubtless spot at forthcoming music festivals), having taken its cue from that quintessential London designer, Luella Bartley. She made a welcome return to the capital's stage to reveal her summer collection - replete with ruffles - at Claridges. Had Gordon Ramsay been on hand with a tray of sausage rolls, it couldn't have been a more British affair: floral-print dresses tiered from the neck sat alongside velvet layered ruffle prom dresses in bold, solid colours - it was Bartley's kooky Brit geek chic done to perfection, complete with chunky spectacles and plenty of attitude.

Fear of flounce has led to a tough new regimen: there are fewer wedding-cake tiers in pastels, and more stiff, sharp layers. This is not a resurrection of boho: it is more dramatic, and even has a touch of Tom Jones's frilly-necked dandyism. Think new romantic, rather than an attempt by Sienna Miller to recycle her gypsy skirt of yore.

Tough accessories, such as gladiator sandals, harden the look. But beware the curse of the buckle: these Topshop knee-high sandals took two hours to fasten during the photoshoot (pity the poor stylist - and her fingers).

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