_{Top row from left: Alison Lee; Aya Tange; Princess Akshita Bhanjdeo; Monica Urquijo Zobel; Leonora Gilmour; Zoe Springer; Rebecca Eu
Bottom row from left: Cheryl Cheong; Romy David; Kyra Kennedy; Lauren Marbe; Ashna Mehta}

Tucked away in a gilded suite in Paris’s Hotel Raphael, three young women are seated on plump velvet cushions waiting to get their faces artfully painted. The features of two trigger a faint sense of déjà vu, which is hardly surprising; one is Kyra Kennedy, granddaughter of former US senator Robert F Kennedy Sr, and the other is Romy David, daughter of world-famous US comedian Larry David. The pair, best friends since childhood, are chatting away just across from Lauren Marbe, a young Englishwoman also invited to make her debut at Le Bal des Débutantes. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for my IQ,” says Marbe candidly. From Essex, she has a more modest background than her two companions, who are both young members of American “royalty”. Marbe’s invitation to the ball came after a blizzard of publicity drew attention to the spectacular result of her IQ tests, 161, a score beyond those of British physicist Stephen Hawking and Microsoft founder Bill Gates.

The trio provide a vivid contemporary portrait of Le Bal des Débutantes, a rite of social initiation with a long and hallowed tradition. The ball fell by the wayside in the rush of 20th-century life, but was revived in 1992 by the doyenne of Paris high society, Ophélie Renouard, who wanted to return the occasion to its place at the heart of fashion. Originally, the ball was the social vehicle through which young ladies of the nobility were introduced into high society, with the aim of meeting an appropriate partner for marriage. Today’s ball is less a matchmaking exercise than a glamorous meeting point for the new international aristocracy.

The new crop of debutantes – 20 young women aged 16 to 21, picked from around the world by Madame Renouard – are following in the footsteps of the likes of Sophia-Rose Stallone (daughter of Sylvester), Dree Hemingway (great-granddaughter of Ernest), Princess Lorenza of Liechtenstein, Tallulah Willis (daughter of Bruce) and Barbara Berlusconi (daughter of the former Italian Prime Minister). They get to choose their outfits courtesy of such designers as Jean-Paul Gaultier, Vivienne Westwood and Elie Saab, with jewellery from Bucherer and shoes courtesy of Christian Louboutin.

_{The dining room at the Club Automobile de France}

“It’s like a modern-day Cinderella story: for one night, you are pampered to the utmost, you waltz away and discover a ‘you’ miles away from your daily self,” says Rebecca Eu of Singapore, clad in a red Alexis Mabille dress. Monica Urquijo Zobel of the Philippines, wearing a gown by Monique Lhuillier, agrees and says, “It’s all so very surreal. And it’s nice to get away from our hectic lives to celebrate a night of elegance and tradition.” The chosen few share the excitement and pleasure of living out the childhood dream of every girl – being the princess of the ball.

“It’s a surreal opportunity. This is the kind of tradition that never happens in the US, a history you didn’t know was still alive,” says Kennedy. Along with the other trans-Atlantic debutantes, she missed Thanksgiving for the first time in her life to attend the ball. The ball is certainly worth the sacrifice, she believes. Described by Forbes as “one of the top 10 social events in the world”, it introduces the debutantes not only to high society, but to the media and the world of couture and haute joaillerie.

“It takes a bit of practice,” notes Alison Lee, from Hong Kong, in a mauve Giambattista Valli dress. Indeed, for three days the debs have been doing hair and make-up tests, learning to walk and dance gracefully in stilettos, posing for various photo shoots and giving the first public interviews of their lives – as if preparing for a life of jetset glamour. “This has been like a summer camp; everyone is different but equally fascinating,” says one of the girls. And while the concept of the debutante ball is “girly and surreal”, it’s “not ditzy”, says Princess Akshita Bhandjeo from India, who is studying politics and human rights at the Bard Institute in New York. “I was hesitant to do it, but realised it’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience. You should enjoy it gracefully and with humility.”

Because the usual venue, the Crillon Hotel, is undergoing renovations, the event takes place at the grand premises of Club Automobile de France, to which the young ladies proceed after their preparations at the Raphael.

_{The Louboutins come off in the wee hours of the night}

Backstage, the girls fumble with their footwear. “The shoes are the tricky part,” says Cheryl Cheong from Singapore, with a giggle. The boys look on, waiting to escort the princesses Madame Renouard has chosen for them. It’s only been a few days since some of the girls met their partners, while others are old friends.

Although the spotlight is focused on the debutantes, being handpicked as a cavalier by Renouard is considered as much of an honour – and requires considerable practice. Several days before the big night, the young men meet with their partners to practise walking and waltzing together. They are required to wear white tie and are lent a Bucherer watch for the evening.

 As French actor Stéphane Bern introduces the arriving debs, they show a few signs of nervousness and stage fright. But soon their confidence builds and they are gliding royally in front of the tables, their simple, pared-down hair and make-up emphasising the intricacy of their exquisite dresses. “In many ways, the whole event is totally un-French: it’s a very international, modern notion of class and luxury, and it’s equally dépaysant [exotic] to be here,” says couturier Alexis Mabille, who dressed Singapore debutante Rebecca Eu.

After the official presentation and a three-course meal, the debutantes are able to relax as the evening enters the dancing phase. All eyes are on Larry David, who has been learning to waltz for three days, according to his daughter. The proud father, accustomed to being centre stage himself, ignores the cameras and cedes the limelight to Romy, and the rest of the father-daughter pairs follow. With the end of the official dances, the parents withdraw and, as the opening chords of Robin Thicke’s Blurred Lines strike up, the real party begins, leaving the bright young things to mingle into the Parisian night.

Photography by Tim Griffiths, Art Direction by Anton San Diego