Wear where?

I have really great news!

Kate Hudson (Almost Famous) has invited us to a party to celebrate her donation the foundation my husband works for, mingle with some stars and brush shoulders with the likes of Ralph Lauren, who's brand-new store we'll be cocktailing in.

I have some really scary news!

I'm going to a party in Aspen hosted by Kate Hudson, who has like a zillion dollars, is four years younger than me and I think is married to a rock star.

Do you know this kind of news? You're so excited you want to pee your pants and you're so scared you want to pee your pants?

Must quell the fear. Must quell the fear.

First, I studied the invitation.

Never, ever go to a party without seeing the invitation. The first thing a woman wonders when she hears "invited to a party" is "what will I wear?" (just before "how soon is too soon to get a manicure?" and "Where's the closest Neiman and Marcus").

The invitation has the answers, it sets the mood. You can always tell when people have been invited somewhere by word of mouth -- they're usually in blue jeans.

More importantly, never ever believe your husband when he says, "we're going to a cocktail party" because to men, every party is a cocktail party.

I realized this only yesterday when for a few hours I thought I was going to a cocktail party in Aspen. Then I saw the invitation, which read in fancy silver letters:

Kate Hudson cordially invites you to après ski cocktails
to celebrate the opening of
R A L P H L A U R E N

Apres-ski. Apres. That's French and it means after. After skiing cocktails, which is different entirely from apres-dinner cocktails.

Understandably, none of this really matters to my husband who will wear pretty much the same thing to a wedding that he will to a funeral or a Lakers game or a squash match. Had I not seen this invitation, I would have probably purchased, packed and worn a cocktail dress with his encouragement.

When I then had to put on my best "yes, I ski in a cocktail dress" attitude and then blamed him for my resulting discomfort, he would have replied, "Who cares. They're serving top shelf bourbon."

Next, I'd normally go shopping.

I love fashion and I love to shop, but I'm tormented with questions and can't focus. Trust me, I've tried.

Fur, fleece or wool? Dolce and Gabbana or Patagonia? Uggs or Stetsons?

Chiefly, what the hell is an apres-ski party? All I can picture is a wood-laden chalet and big, wool snowflake sweaters. That can't be right.

Plus, I haven't skiied in, like, 8 years, but I know it never left me feeling like doing anything apres. And oh, the hat head.

Do I actually have to ski in order to attend an apres-ski party? Am I supposed to wear my apres ski party outfit under my ski clothes or are my ski clothes supposed to be so fabulous they can dub as party clothes?

Cause, let's get real. Ski slopes, even in Apsen, are overflowing with fashion disasters. How am I to stay on the hip highway when the byways are clogged?

I'm stuck. And the clock is ticking...