So this week Joan Collins returned to our TV screens declaring her mission to inject some old-school glamour into the wardrobes of dowdy British ladies, wrestling from them their beloved fleeces and jogging bottoms with the same snooty savagery she displayed during her infamous lily pond catfight with Krystal Carrington in Dynasty.

Well, as Gok Wan might say, she's "bang on trend" ... er ... "girlfriend".

It's all about Eighties glamour this season. There seems to be an "Eighties revival" in fashion every couple of years, but never with the intensity of this one. I haven't seen so many sequins, glitter, shoulder pads, batwings and gold lamé on the High Street since the Eighties. And satin – who on earth looks good in satin? It must be the least forgiving fabric ever invented, apart from leather, which is also everywhere this season. Great ...

Step into Topshop today and it's like I'm walking into Chelsea Girl in 1983. Forget Kate Moss. This season's fashion icon seems to be the original Queen Vic landlady Angie Watts dolled up for a night out "up West", having raided the Albert Square market like a glitz-magnet magpie.

Forget "less is more" – these days more is more, in that gaudy, tacky, look-at-me Eighties way. Some of the garments I encountered during a shopping trip to Cabot Circus made me wonder if I was being secretly filmed for a prank TV show involving Lady Gaga restocking shop shelves with items from her wardrobe.

They say if you participated in a fashion trend first time round, you're too old to take part in the revival. Tell that to Madonna, who can be seen in her latest video gyrating in a shoulder-padded blingy black Balmain dress with an oversized bow that's pure Alexis Carrington.

As for me? Well, High Street, you can keep your bejewelled high-waisted hotpants and gold lamé leotards. Leave 'em to Pixie Lott and the hair-tossing, fragrant half of Bristol's student population (at least it'd get them out of their ubiquitous slouchy Juicy Couture tracksuit bottoms, stuffed into Uggs).

I walked past a gaggle of girls near the students' union in Clifton who I thought must be going to a bad-taste Eighties fancy dress party – until I realised I'd seen virtually everything they were wearing earlier that day at American Apparel.

Truth be told, I didn't exactly "participate" in true Eighties fashion in the Eighties. It happened around me while I was growing up and I eyed it with as much suspicion and disdain as I do now. It was too attention-seeking for a shy girl with unfortunate hair.

There may have been some discreet legwarmer action in my Eighties wardrobe, plus the occasional batwing jumper and the odd scrunchie, but nothing anywhere near as Cyndi Lauper as this year's abominable throwback creations.

To me, anything too shiny, any embellishments involving a net and absolutely anything wet-look screams "cheap" – ironic considering the price of some of this season's Eighties-inspired garments.

My first boss was a ferocious woman who had clearly loved Eighties power-dressing and wasn't willing to give it up just because it was the Nineties. A slight, petite woman, she thought padded-shoulder jackets with fiercely nipped-in waists gave her a certain gravitas and as she stomped through the office, sternum-up, like a quarterback from the Miami Dolphins, she cut a fearsome dash.

Her love affair with Eighties fashion came to an abrupt end, though, while she was showing a suit from head office around the building. She attempted to walk through a doorway at the same time as him, but her shoulder pad caught on the door frame, knocking her off balance and causing her to yelp and grab said startled VIP – while attracting the attention of the whole office.

That was Friday. Come Monday, she had a smooth-shouldered wardrobe.