Purple, in case you hadn’t noticed, is officially the "colour of the season". Promoted from the velour tracksuited dinner ladies of my East End youth it is currently making its way to world domination via pop concerts, the eBay homepage and Chelsea Flower Show. Until two weeks ago, however, it was a colour I associated with Laurence Llewellyn-Bowen and other madmen, not to be forced upon people of sane mind at any time of year. So as high street giants and boutiques alike swelled with this most odious of colours, many an hour was spent prowling through clothes rails scoffing to anyone who’d listen that "the only thing purple is good for is a Prince track", and vowing not to be seen in a single item between pink and crimson all winter.

A little bit about me: every season the Powers that Be dictate a trend so wrong as to tempt me to turn my back on fashion forever; every season you’ll hear me swearing, probably on my mum’s life, that 'x' will never be welcome in my carefully selected wardrobe, and every season I am forced to eat the fashion equivalent of humble pie while apologising profusely to my mum. Shorts? Ate it. Leggings? Delicious. Ankle boots? Double helpings. (Although my nut allergies ruled out boho and my palette proved too refined for nu-rave.) More often than I care to reveal my end of season wardrobe (read: licked plate, full belly and crumby chin) betrays my fall from grace.

And so back to purple. It wasn’t intentional. It came at me by stealth while shopping in American Apparel: a two-tone, skin tight, Whitney Houston- 'I wanna dance with somebody'-video-esque purple and black dress. Standing in the changing room minutes later fist balled into a mic and fulfilling a childhood dream, the penny suddenly dropped, and one half of my heart sank while the other indulged in a little ‘I told you so’. Antonya (who is colour-blind and swore they were pink) emerged from the changing room opposite sporting a pair of lame leggings in a distinctly purple hue and the deal was sealed.

Not a moment too soon: when a chance to see the Sugababes perform at 3 Mobile and Sony Ericsson’s purple Cyberphone party turned up at our door last week I knew it must have been fate. As we gyrated to the purple-clad sounds of Keisha, Heidi and the new one, eating chopped beetroot off silver spoons, I tried to meet eyes with Duncan from Blue from the other side of the room and congratulated ourselves on our excellent outfits and timing. Whether this will turn out to be a season-long love affair or just another one-night-stand remains to be seen, but if it’s good enough for Prince, the Sugababes and Whitney, it’s good enough for me.

LEATHER, on the other hand – I’m not so sure.

Amy.

A photo of my 2nd, 3rd and 4th favourite girls – from where we were standing they looked exactly like this!