What a woman. You have to hand it to Madonna – she's as fabulously fashionable at 50 as she ever was. In fact, this particular look – she's wearing a sleeveless green organza feather top, leather obi belt and black feather skirt, all from next season's Louis Vuitton collection – establishes her back at the top of the international best dressed list. And then some.

Yes, I know, "I want to be a lawn" and all that, but this is fashion with a capital F. Not for this particular icon any dumb, body-conscious offering courtesy of, well, just about any designer name one might care to mention. Instead, this is about as extreme as high-end clothing is ever likely to be – fashion that makes its wearer stand out in a crowd rather than blend in with all the wannabes. For that she and indeed the superpower behind her appearance – that'll be Marc Jacobs – should be applauded.

If anyone can take this kind of risk, it is of course her. Newly liberated from her marriage to Guy Ritchie (what did she ever see in him?), Madonna is footloose and fancy-free once more.

Remember her in 'Desperately Seeking Susan' when she first established herself as a fashion force to be reckoned with? This harks back to that particular moment – the fishnet tights, significantly, are her own not-entirely-witty twist; on the catwalk legs were bare – but with shedloads of ultra-luxe status thrown in, as befits her position as Probably the Most Famous Woman in the World.

Her appearance makes anyone even remotely in her league appear like a colourless frump by comparison. And the reason for any such homogeny? As our boundless fascination with celebrity shows no signs of abating, the rampant intrusion it entails has led to the famously beautiful being more careful than they once were as far as their choice of dress is concerned. Making any kind of wardrobe statement may prove rather too revealing. But surely expressing one's personality through clothing is just what inspirational fashion should be all about? There's more to life than looking thin and expensive, methinks.

Let's deconstruct the outfit. Green and black: the colours of poison and vampish-ness respectively. Miaow. Cute and fluffy but exotic to the point of sauvage and with a hint of Wilma Flintstone even. Grrrr. Feathers: peacock dressing – quite literally. Er, caw caw. 'Douze points', then, no holds barred. If only more people would take a leaf out of Ms Ciccone's book, the world would be a far more entertaining, not to mention pretty, place.