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VICTORIA GALLAGHER-O'HOULIHANon the empress's new clothes

SWEETHEART Neckline! Lace Sleeves! Ski Plunge V! Oh dear. Poor Duchess Middleton. This is what happens when you hire a dead designer to make your frock.

Who didn’t shed a tear last Friday when, due to some apparently dreadful delivery error, Kate Middleton turned up at her own Royal Wedding in Paris Hilton’s spare Vegas Bridal ensemble? The gasp that went around Westminster Abbey said it all. They hadn’t been expecting that sort of queen.

Shocked and appalled, the gathering hardly had time to notice that the train and the concrete mascara were totally Big Fat Gypsy. They did, however, note smug Pippa Middleton, looking like a stone fox in A Much Better Dress. What kind of sister is she? Couldn't she have offered to swap on the way to the ceremony? Couldn't she have mussed up her hair just a little? A girl of good breeding and older stock would have thought these details through. One never asks a hot relative to play bridesmaid.

That’s what plain friends are for. And even allowing for Kate’s “standing”, lesser bloodlines are a poor excuse for allowing your maid of honour to wear white. Did her bridal bootcamp regime cut off the oxygen to her brain? There’s a good reason why bridesmaids are traditionally dressed in the most vile fabrics and palettes of the day. No bride, however fugly, is in any danger of being upstaged by a flock of friends in peach plaid.

Bizarrely, the escort neckline was not enough to spoil the occasion.The British pride themselves on being a resilient bunch – they're forever banging on about how the Royal Family remained at Buckingham Palace for the duration of the Vietnam War. So, by the time we exited the chapel, the crowds had decided to act out their own version of The Empress's New Clothes.

“The dress is fabulous,” cried the lying fashionistas. “It’s not at all what Rihanna would wear if she was marrying into the monarchy,” swore others. By Friday afternoon, the lies were accepted as fact. Kate’s dress was stunning and Pippa hadn’t outshone the bride in the least bit. Huh? The same fearless critics who had taken issue with Kate’s weakness for blazers and fascinators fell silent.

Ultimately, the worst thing about the wedding was not the dress. It was the coercion. Trendsetters and style watchers were neither put out nor surprised by the extent of this Middleton conspiracy. In fact, they were happy collaborators.

Okay, so it was a joyous occasion and maybe little white lies were required to spare feelings. But this isn’t current affairs or sport – this is fashion. If people can’t rely on fashion reports from Royal Weddings, then what? Where do we go from here?

Who knows? Until last week I was betting on soft pleats and varsity jackets for the summer. I was sure the whole pink trouser thing was a horrible joke by the pranksters behind last year’s maxi-dress revival. But now, who can tell? It’s anarchy out there.

No wonder Kate Middleton didn’t make Princess.