Tagged: fashion

Dec 01

Interesting Finds

If you’re stuck for things to look up, here are some things I’ve found I think are worth taking a look at.

Vintage Adverts.  I think the sanitized tapeworms are my favourite.  No doubt someone will be looking at our adverts someday and marvelling at how backward we must have been.

Because a flat tyre is as much an inconvenience as rape.

If My Name Was.  Beautiful, bespoke dresses by Edinburgh-based designer, Laura Davidson.  Be someone else for the night.

I wonder what sort of life they’ll find on Mars.

Slut Walk.  I wouldn’t have thought that “no means no” was so difficult to remember, but apparently, every generation needs to be reminded.  I don’t know that using the word “slut” aids its credibility, though.  It’s not a word that’s ever had connotations of empowerment.  Quite the opposite – it’s only ever been used against women and the attitude behind its use is an integral part of the ‘blame the victim’ treatment of those who have been raped.  I don’t think it’s a word there’s any point trying to reinvent when there are so many positive ones we could use to describe ourselves.

Yarnbombing.  Knit one purl one: an innovation in peaceful protest and urban art.

Vivienne Westwood’s Get A Life and her thoughts on the environment, politics, and culture.

Stirrups and Stories Powerful, candid, funny, splendid, and much needed.

Narrative Nipple. Looking for poems, stories, pictures, rants about people’s experience of breast cancer.

The Zimmers. Fabulous old folks with a collective age of almost 3700 and still singing and dancing their troubles away.


Aug 04

Vogue Italia’s Belle Vere. Celebrating women’s bodies or using plus-size models as a gimmick?

The June cover story in Vogue Italia, Belle Vere, was all about the curves.  Languid, bare-breasted models gaze from the pages, pouting and purring in their lingerie.  They’re beautiful – gorgeous in their preened, fleshly glory.  There’s a luxurious air about them that no amount of pouting on a stick-thin model could convey.  These are women of appetite – they look like they’d be fabulous company at dinner, not like they ought to be on some nutrient drip.  Surely, this is a celebration of women’s bodies at their finest.  A beauty ideal to which we can all aspire should we so desire.

Or is it just marketing?  Sales may be flagging so perhaps a little notoriety – in the shape of someone with breasts all of her own flesh – was needed to pick them up. The poses are no different from those adopted in any other lingerie photoshoot: on her knees, legs apart, breasts tumbling from her corset.  She’s enjoying herself – or doing a fine job of faking it – but for whom?  And why the porn star poses?  Sexualised isn’t the only way to present a woman, even if Vogue is trying to make the point that just because your body fat ratio isn’t 1%, doesn’t mean no one will want to look at you. So long as pouting for the boys remains the default manner in which to convey sexiness, it doesn’t matter what dress size the models, it remains a no-win situation.  She’s still just a figurine no matter how normal her figure.  We don’t have to take off our clothes to know we look good naked so neither should she.


Jul 13

In praise of the lady gadabout

Unkempt, unruly, bad-mannered, and lascivious, the blowsy woman has long been dismissed for her sluttish ways and refusal to behave nicely.  Originating from the 18th century blowze, the word blowsy has been used to malign a woman as a beggar, wench, and – of lower social ranking to the beggar himself – a beggar’s female companion.  I think it’s time her virtues were re-evaluated.

What a blowsy woman really is, is a woman of appetites – for food, drink, sex, and all that life can offer.  She’s not perpetually mid-diet, turning down dessert and pounding her joints on a treadmill to burn off the few calories that may have slipped in somewhere between the no-fat-gluten-free muffin and the salad, sans dressing. Her drinking is not a glass of wine with lunch and her love affairs are not discrete.  Nor are they with her husband.  But the real problem in all of this – the thing that has brought her so much suspicion and derision – is that she doesn’t care.  She doesn’t have time to be forever presentable and polite.  Her waywardness is too time-consuming and, frankly, too much fun.  Who can be bothered with etiquette and preserving your looks when your lustiness might take you somewhere far more exciting? read on