Something rather strange is happening in Hollywood. On Sunday night, Renee Zellweger arrived at the 76th Academy Awards in a full-length, formal white gown. At the back was a vast white satin bow descending into a four-foot train, which trailed along the red carpet as if it were a cathedral aisle and its wearer a blushing bride instead of a movie siren. The only thing missing was the bridal bouquet - but then, who needs orchids when there's an Oscar statuette to have and to hold.
Zellweger was not the only one channelling Shirley Temple rather than Sharon Stone. Sandra Bullock wore white Oscar de la Renta with a wedding-cake skirt complete with stiff trims. Julianne Moore chose a silver sequined V-neck that was as demure as Versace gets; Julia Roberts, who famously triumphed at the Oscars in a dramatic black-and-white vintage Valentino dress, opted for blonde-meets-gold Armani. Holly Hunter wore a white halter-neck Vera Wang; Diane Lane wore white with silver-edged cut-outs. Even Charlize Theron chose a Gucci dress in pale silver with a fishtail train, and played down her sexpot platinum hair with old-fashioned set waves. And Angelina Jolie, who is more often seen in black latex and is almost as synonymous with va va voom as Thierry Henry, wore white, and looked, as Kate Beckinsale put it on the red carpet, "edible with a spoon".
The mood was sweetness and light, good taste, old-school Hollywood glamour and a kind of preserved-in-aspic girlishness that is oddly ageing - see Scarlett Johansson in a hairstyle a good half a century too old for her tender 19 years. It is worth noting that alongside the seasoned red-carpet designer names of Armani, Versace and Gucci, two new names have carved places for themselves. Vera Wang, who dressed Hunter, made her name as a bridal designer, and the influence shows in the formal, romantic style of her dresses. Carolina Herrera, who dressed Zellweger for the third year running, dresses New York society ladies, and brings a certain stateliness to the red carpet.
Frankly, it is enough to make you long for Cher. And that is not a sentence I ever thought I would write. But somehow, the personality seems to have seeped out of Oscar fashion. It's not just the silly outfits that we miss - Björk's swan dress, Celine Dion's back-to-front trouser suit - but the personality dresses. Think of Cate Blanchett's stunning 1999 John Galliano dress, with flowers and a hummingbird embroidered on to nude mesh to look like a tattoo; Julianne Moore in stunningly sophisticated emerald green Yves Saint Laurent perfectly setting off her colouring; Juliette Binoche in a claret velvet coat dress with vast, regal collar.
And I miss red. Fire-engine red, more than any other colour, has long been an Oscar staple for actresses who wanted to sizzle rather than simper. In 1998, Minnie Driver had recently been publicly dumped by Matt Damon, who was then a hot movie star (remember?) and who was expected to show up at the awards with new love Winona Ryder. Driver wore a scarlet Randolph Duke gown with a fake-fur stole dyed to match, and came out on top. In 2000, Lucy Liu did pure Donatella with a seriously vampish one-shouldered scarlet Versace gown with glittering sunrays; in 2002, a recently divorced Kate Winslet used a Ben de Lisi red dress to announce her return to the cut and thrust of Hollywood. This year, the only lady in red was Catherine Zeta Jones, such a die-hard vamp that her choice hardly counts.
All the leading ladies now seem to be aspiring to the same ideal of retro Hollywood glamour. The icon they are echoing is not, in fact, any of the old-school actresses, but Kim Basinger's Veronica Lake-alike character in LA Confidential. When Basinger was nominated for a best supporting actress Oscar for the role, in 1998, she effectively stayed in character, telling her stylist, "I want to be very elegant, very classic, very Princess Grace." In mint-green Escada satin and platinum waves, she did echo the pale blue satin dress that Grace wore when she picked up her Oscar in 1955. And Basinger won, too.
But it wasn't Basinger who started the shift towards demure on the red carpet. That was Uma Thurman, with the simple lavender Prada gown that she wore in 1995. The dress (which again had more than a touch of Kelly) inspired a flurry of imitators who envied the understated elegance.
Four years later, Gwyneth Paltrow played the role of America's sweetheart to perfection in a sugar-pink confection by homegrown designer Ralph Lauren. In recent years, Nicole Kidman, who seldom puts a foot wrong on the red carpet, has been working the ice-princess look faithfully. In 2002 it was millefeuille layers of palest pink Chanel chiffon. (This time it was Chanel again - she is the face of No 5, after all - pale blue, backless and strapless.)
There is one hopeful sign, however, amid all these butter-wouldn't-melt, goody-goody pretty dresses. This year, Thurman chose a bizarre lace flamenco-milkmaid hybrid - white, but anything but demure - and added a big blue sash for good measure. If that's a taste of looks to come, then perhaps things are looking up.