Parties: You've been framed!

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The Independent Culture

Rolling around nude in vats of paint and applying the residue to canvas is one sure-fire way to catch the attention of London's socialites. As they flocked to the actress-turned-artist Meredith Ostrom's paint-spattered exhibition Naked Soul on 12 March, the thankfully turps-scrubbed artist, dazzling in a cream top, admitted she had been up until 2am, finishing up.

Turning up to a soaring art space just opened in a converted sorting office in Victoria, the wealthy, well-connected crowd mingled over vodka cocktails. Although the photographer Amanda Eliasch came and went early, the gallerist Alex Dellal and man about town Dan Macmillan hung around – fascinated, no doubt, by the, er, high-concept subject matter. An appearance by Duran Duran keyboardist Nick Rhodes set tongues wagging – he recently separated from Ostrom – but the biggest surprise of the night was the arrival of banking heir Nat Rothschild. It was his first public outing since last summer's yacht-gate affair, but none of the Russian women clustered around thought it necessary to bring it up.

Midway through the evening, a troupe of dancers – trained by Youth for Youth, a charity to which Meredith donated half the proceeds of all sales – swarmed in to perform a pulsating Brazilian dance to bongos. The crowd responded rapturously – but what did they make of the paintings themselves?

The works – featuring vibrant splodges of orange, blues and greens – received a rather mixed reception, but Ostrom's enthusiasm toward her new-found vocation was undiminished: "Life is great right now," she beamed. "I think I'm in love." Poor old Nick Rhodes – forgotten already.

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