Thursday, 31 May 2007


1.One or two lucky men can go shirtless in the summer and look like a 70s rock icon holidaying in Marrakech. The rest of you will doubtless look like builders from Peckham.

2.Natural fibres for a bag are fantastic when you’re not really into chavvy Fendi knockoffs and you’re not exactly working on a Marc Jacobs budget. You can get a Hessian tote with leather handles for about five quid, and no-one is really sure whether you’re a wealthy minimalist or your sole income is five hours a week at Sainsburys and whatever your Nan sends in your birthday card.

3.I sincerely hope no-one is still shopping in the “Young Trend” section of H&M anymore, as the only “trend” I can discern is “things I bought in Tesco when I was eight”.

4.Do not be sucked in by a ridiculous, unwearable catwalk trend unless you are actually a model. The other day I caught myself looking thoughtfully at those pristine-white nursing clogs so favoured by the over-65s. Thankyou, Viktor and Rolf.

5.A sharp indigo is the only acceptable colour for blue jeans, unless they have a particularly 70s cut which lends itself to a faded wash. The bootcut is so unfashionable that someone needs to bring it back, as while with heels it looks a little “mum’s night out” it looks great forming a puddle of denim around a flat ballet pump. Personally, I’m not a blue jeans girl.

6.Glossy PVC – especially in a crinkled finish – is set to be everywhere when the weather gets colder, but wear it as a jacket or trench only for fear of looking like Trent sodding Reznor from Nine Inch Nails and suggesting to everyone who survived the 90s that you want to “fuck them like an animal”.

7.Large designer logos – preferably fake as a wedding cake – are the Lindsay Lohan of the accessory world, both stylish and fun in incredibly small doses because they’re so unashamedly trashy.

8.I wore white linen trousers last night in an attempt to get over my fear of the devil’s summer fabric, and my friend Gabriel chirruped “My mum has some of those”. Try not to be put off by such cutting remarks – if someone’s mother has something and you still think it’s relevant you can always bullshit your way into calling it a “classic”.

9.If you are bored with women’s high-street clothing, move onto menswear. Although normally I would be scathing about Topman, I have just discovered the delights of their button-up baseball t-shirt. Undone to reveal the collarbones and sheer enough to show the ghost of a bra or nipple, it looks terrific hanging off a manorexic frame or a slender female one alike.

10.Oh I don’t know. Handbags and that.

Images:Catwalk fashion that might look a wee bit silly in the supermarket; Lindsay Lohan –she actually does want to fuck you like an animal; Pharrell and some label-heavy Vuitton bags (I ran out of things to search on google image)

Tuesday, 29 May 2007


Having realised that the last entry was uncharacteristically serious I have deleted it in favour of some more of the kind of unstructured fluff that people might actually read. You might have noticed that I sometimes publish entries and then later remove them on a whim; get used to it, shitcorpse. To the best of my knowledge Molly has never deleted one of her entries, so you can count on her not to be a prima donna – I will continue to churn out my worthless and unfounded opinions and delete them with a well-placed curse when I please. Today the ubiquitous list is about four people who influence the way I dress. Enjoy it while it’s there.

1.Karl Lagerfeld.I have spent the last few months slowly eliminating colour from my wardrobe, and it was the best decision I ever made. Nothing says “I used to be slightly rotund and now I’m thin and severe and maybe just that little bit too resentful about my flabby past” like an entirely black and white ensemble. This statement may be just as true of myself as it is of Lagerfeld – frankly, you’ll never know – but his predictably smart silhouette has made a definate impact on my taste. Most notably he has taken Coco Chanel’s foolproof formula of a black dress and a mountain of costume jewellery to another slightly bonkers level by adding skulls, crosses and – Lord love him – enough plastic surgery to make him look stuffed. I might refrain from channelling his chin.

2.Jean Shrimpton. Less boyish and plain than Twiggy and less petulant than Edie Sedgwick, Jean Shrimpton lent a shabby air to her waifish frame with too-large sweatshirts and trenchcoats held tightly closed with tiny wrists. Her heavy, eye-skimming fringe and long hair often look as though they have been artfully tousled by a fairly tame and uneventful roll in the hay. At this point I am so desperate for my hair to grow out of its passé Mary Quant bob that I have googled “make hair grow faster” more than once in the past week. Shame on me.

3.Andy Warhol. The little albino homo that could, Warhol’s signature style of striped t-shirts, dark glasses and leather jacket looks good on almost anyone, and being deathly pale myself I have no choice but to follow his lead. Warhol was something of a foot-fetishist and kept many worn-out pairs of his own shoes, s
ome of which were drizzled with paint from his iconic portraits. I would love to have some Jackson-Pollack style shoes, but despite being at art school I am a terrible painter, and would rather not spatter them on purpose for fear of looking like an affected twat.

4.Brigitte Bardot. A woman with all of the sex appeal Jean Shrimpton lacks, I find her signature makeup – the bubblegum lips and heavy, feline eyeliner – the easiest way to turn from scabby to glamorous, or at the very least halfway between the two. Her style of dress was typically French – stripe
s, capris, loafers and the ubiquitous fag – but she knew how to make it appear feminine and give it va-va-voom in the way that only a true sex icon can. One of the reasons I chose to put her here is that she taught me that having slightly goofy front teeth can be extremely sexy. Of course, it helps that not many of us can fill out a boat-neck sweater like Bardot (without the help of a very good bra, some very good knickers, or both at the same time and a great deal of vision).

I could go on and on, but I’m sure you’d rather look at the pictures. To recap, you have learnt that I may or may not have been a chubby child, that I have goofy front teeth, that I am incredibly pale and that I can’t paint. Brilliant.
Images:The many faces of Karl Lagerfeld; The Shrimp; Andy Warhol's "Style"; The "Bardot neck" 's namesake.