Skirting the Issue

Some moons ago I went out for an evening with a wonderful friend of mine. I hadn't seen her in ages so I was looking forward to having a good old natter about what we'd both been up to in the past three years or so.
Anyway, the only downsides to the evening were that A) being the only one who could drive I was the designated driver, and B) my friend was (and still is) one of those girls who is incredibly gorgeous and no matter how hard I tried to scrub up, all the chaps would flock around her leaving me sitting on my own feeling like a wallflower smelling of manure.
And so we set off to find a decent pub. Easier said than done, as the first place we tried was totally empty with as much atmosphere as a thermos flask, the second was packed to capacity with drunken aussies, the third had music playing so loud we couldn't hear ourselves think and the fourth didn't sell wine.
Now, while testing each pub, my friend had had a glass of wine (except the last one where she'd had a vodka) while I'd had a soft drink and by the time we found a pub where we could sit down and hear each other without being vomited on by Australians, my dear friend was nearing the 'one over the eight' as they say.
So, the pub we'd chosen was somewhere near Goldhawk road and as well as having a bar downstairs, had a large area upstairs with plenty of seating, so after we'd bought our drinkies (I decided I was going to have just the one glass of wine) we headed off up the stairs to find a seat.
Now, this is the part of the story where you have to pay attention, else the whole thing won't make any sense, akay?
As I knew I'd be driving, I'd chosen to wear by best 'skinny jeans' but my friend had decided to wear a a slip of a silk top and really beautiful long velvet skirt; dark red and reached almost to the floor. Along with her natural very good looks and stunning outfit, as usual all eyes were upon her where ever she went, while I trailed behind feeling I should be ringing a bell in case anyone bumped into me.
So, we're at the bar, just bought our drinks, my friend is now rather pissed tipsy, and we're heading up the stairs; her in front and me behind with both of us carrying a drink in one hand and a handbag in the other.
I realized I'd left my change on the bar and quickly dashed back to get it and then went to catch up with my friend.
Alas, she was rather more drunk than I'd realized.
As she walked up the stairs she managed to catch the hem of her shirt with her shoes and with each step her skirt (which btw had an elasticated waistband) had got closer to the ground until by the time she got to the top of the stairs, her skirt was about three paces behind her.
I tried to call out to her as I realized what was happening but she didn't hear me and made her entrance into the upstairs bar semi-naked and still clutching her drink.
I dashed after her as quick as I could, grabbed the skirt and tried to wrap it around her but too late; everyone in the upstairs bar had seen her and if they weren't staring with eyes and mouths agape were laughing their ducks off.
My dear friend still hadn't twigged what was happening until I finally got through and told her that she was sans the lower part of her outfit.
Mind you, having the skirt wrapped around her made for a really quick exit, I'd never seen her move so fast, but sadly I didn't have time to drink my glass of wine that I'd been so looking forward to.
We've never been back to the pub again either.