CINDERELLA has a lot to answer for... Ever since that Fairy Godmother scattered stardust from her wand and said "Yes, you shall go to the ball"- the rest of us have wanted to go too.

There is something about the chance to dress up that takes us out of our everyday world for a while. We all know, deep in our hearts, that actually we were meant for a grander life than the one we have. After all, a girl can dream, can't she?

And it's the Cinderella season. Students who spend the rest of the year dressing from Oxfam and living on beans and toast will forget the rent for the chance to wear a posh frock to a May ball, dance till dawn and pretend - for one night at least - that they are living the life of another more leisured and moneyed generation.

Huge stretch limos are manoeuvring down narrow roads and streets collecting gaggles of giggling girls and blushing boys, all dressed up to the nines for sixth form proms. OK it's an American custom, but why not? They look great, feel fabulous and it's a lot more glamorous than the sweaty discos we had to mark the end of school.

And worth it for the shock to any mother of seeing her scruffy lad all rigged out in a DJ with a passable resemblance to James Bond. Who'd have thought it, eh?

There is no logic to dressing up really. I mean, who decided that spiky heels, silk suits and elaborate hats are the proper dress for a muddy racecourse? Mad, but fun.

Even the rich and famous, who presumably have more chances to dress up than the rest of us, are not immune. Just look at the pictures of guests at the Beckhams' party.

Their dressing up box might be more expensive than those the rest of us have access to, but their glee was pretty much the same - and many of them were equally unrecognisable.

Dressing up is possibly pointless, but so what? Sometimes we all need to get in touch with our inner princess. After all, the clock will strike midnight soon enough - and then we'll all be changed back to pumpkins again.