What on earth does one wear to a Playboy Bunny party?

Ah… the questions that plague modern women of today. Surely all I should be thinking about after a hard day’s work is what I’m going to have for dinner.

Ha! It seems that the questions that played on the minds of our late grandmothers and great-nannas are no longer given much thought. Not because we don’t care – hell no, we just don’t have the time.

To be honest, we don’t need to think about what to make for dinner, Marks and Spencers do a better job of it anyway. Lord knows we wouldn’t get the right balance of Omega 5, good fats, bad fats and almost-but-not-quite fats in there anyway. And don’t even try to understand the complex combo of seeds, algae and raw, endangered roots that need to feature in your daily diet. That is, if you want pert boobs, smooth thighs, shiny hair, a beating heart and a sex drive to match it. Don’t get me wrong, I follow the Gillian McKeith’s skinny pale words like they’re gospel. Who needs religion when the result on your scales dictates your mood for the day?!

Do I sound bitter? Not at all… wouldn’t dream of it. In fact, I love the way that London life for a hard-working woman of the world ticks over. As an Australian country girl at heart, the fact that I can now buy my milk in rice form is astounding. Nevertheless I do it because… well, Gillian tells me to.

My poor father still wakes up at the crack of dawn to milk our 2,000 dairy cows and yet I choose soy, rice and a no meat diet. You know what – I wouldn’t change it for the world.

I grew up running out to the veggie garden when mum wanted to make dinner. I know how to tell when an avocado is ripe (flick the stem at the top). I can cut a mushroom so that it grows back overnight (yes, magic) and I know how to ‘sex the pumpkin flowers’ so that the massive orange beasts produce offspring.

I am a country girl who has, in a matter of 2 years abroad, become a fully-fledged fashion conscious, cocktail sipping, nightlife loving, theatre-going woman in ‘the big smoke’. I paint my nails, break my nails, and curse my nails; then move on to my hair. I’ve gone from having one hand-knitted carry bag (thanks Nanny!) to having more bags and boots than one warm-blooded fashion junkie will ever need.

I host a radio show that tells the people of London what to do with their social life and how to avoid the many notorious tourist traps. Quite a challenge for someone who’s still discovering that herself – but someone’s got to save you from the couch and a never-ending combo of pot noodles and reality TV. There’s an exciting world of culture going on out there and if it’s new, I’ll be joining in. If it’s quirky I’m in line… and if it’s essential (or equally avoidable) I’m going to tell you about it.

Over the next few months I’ll be exploring the breaking musicals, theatre performances, bars, clubs, launches, fad diet restaurants, extreme sports, clubbing, lovin’ and painting (yes, at the same time!), meeting Mr Right, avoiding Mr Wrong, living it up, and bringing it on… Plus, interviews with the characters that grace our pigeon invaded streets.

And… why the hell are so many of you out having colonics? I said I’d deliver the answers… so watch this space.

But first of all, I’ve got a Playboy bunny party to prepare for. To dress up or down? Now THAT is the question. Something tells me this will be one downright ball-busting week.

I’ll tell you all about it next week…