Lighting ceremony at Villa Corinthia

Unfortunately I haven’t had a man in my bathroom for over twenty-two years, but this does not mean that I don’t know what goes on in their world of beauty and looks. There are many men in my family and I am a keen observer of life so I take in what goes on around me.

Upon crossing the threshold of a restaurant or a reception venue women ­ regardless of age,  instinctively look around, as men do, and survey the scene and superficially give points from one to ten, to both men and women on looks, clothes and grooming in general. Of course, this is the superficial side of life and many of us assess people on a much deeper level and often discover that our first assessment was completely wrong. Most of us prefer a scruffy man with a brain and a sense of humour to another with a well-cut suit and nothing to say. You may award an eight-on-ten for looks and grooming to someone but then discover that that person is an empty vessel – and the other way round of course. However, it is fun – and it is life.

I notice, for example that nails have become big in the world of beauty, when it comes to men too,  and even David Cameron sports a sparkling set of buffed nails.

In my father’s day  a grooming regime for most men involved a razor, a round container with soap or a can of shaving foam, a splash of aftershave and a monthly haircut. My father’s nails were always cut very short as were my mother’s. We were not allowed to wear red nail varnish at all, even in our twenties  – only trollopes wore red –  and we never dared cross that particular rubicon.

 When it comes to men we have come a long way since Gillette in 1901, launched the first safety razor with disposable blades.

Now even the house of Chanel has a men’s aftershave. One nephew tells me however, that only chavs use aftershave. But I think this is a load of nonsense and aftershave has evolved from the days of a dash of Old Spice.

Men now take not only their nails but their skincare seriously too and why shouldn’t they. We’re talking about the ‘macho male’ now. The majority of gay men have always taken a great pride in their looks.

Friends who have males around their bathroom tell me that their husbands and sons spend over an hour in there, looking after every hair, plucking, smoothing and showering and scenting, ready for their hot date, or simply an office meeting. I also know of men who wax backs, shoulders and hairy hands. Now, since the days of Sampson, hair on men has been a sign of strength and virility, so why would the macho male want to get rid of it? It’s unsightly, one male told me. I suppose if David Beckham prefers a hairless body then who am I to question it? So aren’t girls attracted to hairy chests anymore as we used to be, and indeed still are! Well, it takes all sorts, even in the world of men’s beauty.

All this was crossing my mind as I set off to the Corintha in Attard but not before I had ransacked my wardrobe and left half of it on my bed – discarded. My daughters complain that I have even taken over their wardrobes and yet, when it comes to the crunch, I don’t seem to have all that much to wear, especially at this time of the year when greediness has already taken over and a few extra kilos means I now need safety pins to hold up trousers and skirts – the kilt variety of safety pin – the longest and most solid I possess.

Nothing suitable to wear…I have been here before – many, many times and have vowed each time, never to be here again. But…“Well, ma, if you lost some weight instead of gorging yourself on chocolate, you would have plenty to wear,” says the eldest. This is when I wish I was a man. How easy it is for them: one suit, one shirt, one self and a tie to suit your mood. A friend told me that her father, always well groomed, left one-hundred-and-eighty designer ties behind him and only because he couldn’t take them to heaven with him. Men had it right all along. They don’t have to put in so much effort.

At least, at a certain age, you no longer have to compete with beautiful girls in ethereal chiffon or flirty, feisty or full-on screen sirens. Or look-at-me-slit-up-to there girls whose dresses seem to have been sewn on them. I have learnt that too much flesh, too much makeup and too  much effort spell disaster, especially at a certain age. I no longer have to make statements, if I ever did. So, finally, I settled for a black pair of trousers and a beige lace jacket.

The Lighting Ceremony has taken place on 8 December for several years now. I believe I have only missed it once and that is only because I was abroad. I am always delighted to be invited to the elegant Villa Refalo, the older part of the Corinthia Palace where the restaurant is situated.

I was told by his wife Livia, that her popular husband Italico Rota, will be retiring and was not there that evening. However, the new managing director, David Woodward greeted guests at the entrance while we drank to keep ourselves warm and ate roasted chestnuts.

I was to learn later on that in fact, Signor Rota will remain at the CHI’s main office in Floriana where he will be able to make use of his knowledge and vast experience for the benefit of the Corinthia group. This is excellent news for everyone.

The Ankore Choir entertained us for some time in the dining room and they were followed by a quartet and a girl singer whose name I did not catch.

It was an animated evening with Lorraine Dunnett and Jean Mifsud (who is now at Corinthia San Gorg) acting as excellent hosts. Antoinette Soler’s son Dr Jean Karl Soler and his wife Joyce were there too as well as Charmaine Xuereb. I was sitting near Joan Busuttil and her husband Edwin and we got on well, which of course contributed greatly to the most enjoyable evening.

We ate extremely well starting with Duck Roulade and going on to Scallops and crayfish pasta parcels and so to the main course: Veal fillet Orloff style with all the trimmings.

Although at this stage we really should have stopped eating who could resist the Trio of Dessert and finally coffee and petit fours?

And Christmas is not here yet! I am not going to make any resolutions at this stage as I know I shall not keep them. Nor am I going to go out and buy new clothes. The safety pins will have to do for the time being. But let me tell you, they are so uncomfortable. I always feel penitent after these lovely meals but faced with another I shall go through it again. How difficult to resist!

A very Happy Christmas to our readers. At least the end of the world has been postponed it seems.