updated 12/11/1989 AT 01:00 AM EST

originally published 12/11/1989 AT 01:00 AM EST

Oh, those designer gowns! Can't wear 'em, can't hit high society without 'em. Leaving a Manhattan benefit, Diandra Douglas, usually elegant wife of actor Michael, paused to reroute her train. Was it a case of taffeta torment? Slipshod satin? Or merely some dangling velvet caught in the door? Whatever, Diandra gamely adjusted.

Never mind that kiss-and-tell autobiographer Shelley Winters turned up at a theater party in Beverly Hills wearing a fur coat over a muumuu over slacks. But did she have to pick just this moment to adjust her bra?

Quick, now: Which big star is this? Judging from the indisputable breeding, you probably answered Cary Grant. No, wake up, we're in 989, and this fly-by-night is Mickey Rourke.

Even Diana, the perfect princess, isn't immune to troublesome hemlines. She had an awkward moment getting out of a battleship's gun turret. Di stayed cool—and dropped ankle in full view of one impressed royal watcher.

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