Lauren Bravo writes:
Velvet.
Ah, velvet. I feel unfair even including this one, because velvet is, really, the official fabric of Christmas. It has maximum cosy factor, it looks too sumptuous to wear most of the rest of the year, and it always makes one feel vaguely like royalty. If we could just spend the entire festive season swishing about in long velvet cloaks, I would be beyond happy.

But as it is, velvet-wearing is one of the hardest yuletide activities. Because made into actual clothes, rather than nativity costumes, it tends to fall into two camps – worn loose, you’re an ageing drama teacher, worn fitted you’re an overstuffed armchair. The choice is yours (but I know which allows for more mince pie consumption).

Novelty earrings.
It’s always the people you least suspect that turn out to be closeted novelty earring wearers. This phenomenon also stems to those who tie tinsel round their pony tail, or round their neck, or round their cat’s neck, or perhaps round their steering wheel, lest any left-turn slip-by uninjected with seasonal joy.

Novelty-earring wearers (and for unpierced gentlemen, the sporter of the light-up snowman tie) are generally those who the rest of the year round wouldn’t say boo to an accessories goose, the kind who consider beige a bit flamboyant and think BBC newsreaders are getting too racy. Let all this suppressed desire for glitter build-up steadily over an 11-month period, and kablam! They’ll be the ones in flashing fairy wings singing “I Am What I Am” at the karaoke buffet.

“Sexy” Santas.
I’d like to blame Mean Girls, but in truth I’m sure the tradition of the sexy santa (see also: sexy elf, raunchy reindeer, flirty fairy and all variations thereupon) has existed for as long as there have been office parties to get drunk at and photocopiers to sit on. It needs to be outlawed, partly because of feminism but mainly because Christmas is a time for thermals, third helpings of trifle, and making peace with your own thighs. Nobody should have to be sexy at Christmas; it’s effort enough to look fetching in a cracker hat. And we all know that Mrs Clause would never have looked like Rachel McAdams anyway – she would have sensible shoes and a bottom the size of Belguim.

(Too much) Red
Yes, yes, it’s the colour of the season. It’s the colour of a robin’s breast, Rudolph’s nose, a Louboutin sole. We get it. And we all know the power of a sweep of scarlet lipstick or a ruby slipper to lift a dreary outfit. But as with marzipan and Cliff Richard, in December it should be applied sparingly. Too much red at Christmas can just look so literal, like turning up dressed as a turkey or the baby Jesus. If you’re worried you might be overdoing it, try this simple test: look into a mirror and sing, “I’ve never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight…never seen you shine so bright…” If the face of Chris de Burgh flashes up before you, you need to get changed.

Woollens.
By now there is no point contesting the status of the Christmas jumper. It is as tightly woven into the fabric of the festive season as massive tins of Quality Street and the bumper issues of the Radio Times. It has flitted from genuine to ironic, via Colin Firth and back again, and now it is an institution. Moreover, knitwear is back on the fashion map in a big way – this season, not only are we required to wear woollens, we’re meant to be loading them on in layers. So far, so snuggly.

But the snag is, while jumpers cut a dash in snowy parks and on long, rustic walks up mountaintops, most of our Christmases aren’t spent there, are they? They’re spent on the sofa in central-heated living rooms, and in crowded bars, and standing in people’s armpits on the tube. Which, combined with a few glasses of sherry, makes for some frankly unfestive red-faced perspiration. Call it ‘santa sweat’, if you must. Or just save the jumpers for the snow.

So there you have it, festive fashionistas – go forth, eat, drink and be merry. But if at any point you unwrap a sexy, red, velvet jumper with matching tinsel earrings, hope that they kept the receipt.