But I can’t! All my ballgowns are in Sussex! Seated at the end of a long dark office spotlit by an Anglepoise lamp, my worried words spoken into the telephone were overheard by TV Eye Reporter Denis Tuohy. It was 1984 and this was Thames Television.

I bumped into Denis some years ago on a train and he regaled me with the story, still chuckling after the long intervening years. Presumably in my move to London from Hove, all my ballgowns got left behind?

Having recently returned to Sussex, I can report that my very first ballgown is here; a black slub silk frock with tailored bodice from which flows a full skirt that when walking or dancing, reveals underlayers of shocking-pink edged black tulle.  This beauty was made by Laurie, a talented tailor based in Hove. Yes indeed, Hove Laurie made all my ballgowns.

Brighton really hasn’t changed much since I left. Having grown up in Hove actually I had no desire to relive my youth but to explore the area that in my childhood I considered to be bohemian and where even then, I found the architecture impressive. The very air of Kemptown hinted at mischief, a far cry from our quiet, safe Hove Park haven.

Laurence Olivier and Joan Plowright lived in conjoined centre houses of The Royal Crescent; in my young imagination, this confirmed that Kemptown was the domain of actors, creatives … and undoubtedly many goings-on. Unlike the Regency and Georgian facades that surround our new home, my fond memories of the area have never faded. Indeed I am grateful for the place, for in my teenage years Kemptown’s Brighton College gave me Big Bad John with whom I discovered first love.

Now I am here, in the very place I yearned to know as a child and with ample time to explore my old town the only disappointment has been the sheer quantity of chain cafes, restaurants and stores that have displaced the independent shops of my youth. These are now concentrated in the North Laines, less populated in the late 70s but even then colonised by vintage boutiques where I bought snakeskin stilettoes, 50s and 60s suits and frocks – maybe even a ballgown or two?

The people of Brighton however, have not changed; conversations strike up in the street and smiles are exchanged in passing, people working in shops are helpful and friendly. Walking home last night we passed a pub-related incident; police were chatting to a small group of older folk, one of whom was lamenting; but Beano wouldn’t do that. Not Beano …. There’s a mistake, not Beano … he sobbed gently, the arm of a sympathetic policewoman around his shoulders.

The handful of people we know here have gone out of their way to welcome us; a convivial dinner at the home of Schoolfriend Sarah, a hilarious Comedy Night with BA and new friends introduced by musical Cousin V who also gave us the heads up for Sunday night jazz in a local pub. It transpired that this was no ordinary pub jazz but a live session by the 18-piece Sussex Jazz Orchestra, with which Cousin V was playing that night. For two hours the most incredible sound of these talented musicians brought joy to a happy audience and quite literally swelled the walls of The Round Georges pub.

When The Tornado and The Little Hurricane came to stay at half term we visited Booth’s Natural History Museum, barely changed from my childhood and bursting with taxidermy from the 18thC. More recent exhibits are displayed with a notice reassuring visitors that nothing was killed to make this diorama with confirmation of how each animal died.

The Hove Museum of Creativity was a revelation; here, beautifully designed and themed exhibitions span the creative arts past and present, a glorious testament to design and curatorial excellence.

When weather permits, HH and I take a stroll to watch the sunset illuminate the beach, the sea, the Pier and the starling murmurations that embellish the sky; we still have some settling in to do in our Georgian Stable, but there’s no rush.

Life is sweet; we look forward to more capers over coming weeks, people to meet, Cousins to track down and old friends to hook up with. Each day dawns bright, putting a welcome distance between me and the regular, dark and deep depressions that bedevilled me in London, seemingly implicit to life.

The return to Sussex is wonderful and to my delight, after 40 years The Last Ballgown has come full circle with me; whether I will need it any time soon remains to be seen.

© Giovanna Forte 2025.