By Katy Smail

On Saturday night there were sequins spinning in my eyes, and on my dress, too. After all, black sequins are the colour of Saturday nights; dark and wicked, sticky tar and light of foot, they are the dirty glamour of night-time debauchery. Sequins are everything dressing up should be - glittering, playful fun, like rolling around in a haberdashery box filled with glitter bugs and black treacle.

Sequins cast a million reflections in the glint of every eye. They are flapper dresses, childhood birthday parties, medieval armour and mermaid tails. They are uptown girls in downtown bars, little French dancing girls in shanty towns, the Russian princess slumming it with a poor poet and having a far better time because of it. They are spinning in circles, kisses that make you dizzy and dancing like you can't stop. Hedonistic night-time joy that glitters in the moonlight.

They also scream glamour. As someone who adores dressing up but reels at the word "glamour" and all of its polished, WAG-esque associations, I subscribe to the ''dressed up but mussed up'' school of sequins; the magic of a tarnished jewel in a dusty box. There is something about the precious glimmer of sequins upon a canvas of undone hair, scuffed boots and old cotton that has all the allure of a mermaid queen adrift on a faded shore. Think Erin Wasson skateboarding down a sun-bleached street, la Moss adrift in the Glastonbury mud, Dorothy Parker in a dimly lit speakeasy. They know that sequins don't need hair extensions and a matching clutch to put a glint in your eye; magpies know that real treasure is hidden in the dirt.

This trail of dusty glitter can creep into daytime, too. Run screaming from a strict cocktail hour but take the magic with you. Against masculine tailoring, grey marl and grungy simplicity, this is contradiction dressing at its most enchanting. Like the frost which glistens upon the muted purple hills, sequins worn with knitwear and layers (see Christopher Kane A/W 08) scatters precious poetry into winter wardrobes. Not to mention the increased visibility as the nights grow dark! And as the recession rings like a dull ache in empty wallets, any piece of frivolous beauty that can be justified with a cry of false practicality has me bewitched....like a moth to a discoball.