Every so often, someone asks me, ‘Where did you get your outfit?’ and before I can reply, ‘Oxfam’, ‘The dump’ or ‘I’m being bribed by a homeless person to wear the contents of the wardrobe for no valid reason’, they snort out a punchline like ‘Cos you should ask for a refund!’ or ‘Can you please get off my property?’
In short, I’m a friggin’ fashion icon.
Which is why I choose to blog every so often on the subject of fashion, passing the gauntlet of my expertise on fashion sub-topics, like ‘how to maximise your spare tyre’ and ‘how to pick unflattering cuts of jeans’, to you, the reluctant reader.
Here are my Spring 2013 tips.
I know what you’re thinking; beige Macs, khaki parkas etc. However, I’m referring to something a little more durable, and here’s why: the shit is about to hit the fan. If you thought our economy was slowly prising itself out of the shitter by its tired, skinned fingers- think again. The gap between rich and poor is widening, the housing market has not ‘’bottomed out’’, the cuts haven’t even begun to resonate. I wonder will one day, the Chinese version of Bob Geldof pen a Christmas song for us so we can all enjoy the sweet relief of a Findus Turkey Slice (you wish it had fucking horse in it) each on Christmas Day 2036. That sky is full of shit, people- get yourself a waterproof coat.
Pair of Sunglasses
Brilliantly, Spring is that time of year when every type of ‘extreme’ weather is accompanied by a dusty one-liner. For example, a snow shower in March= ‘Where’s this global warming everyone keeps going on about?’, a few hours of sunshine in April followed by a period of rain= ‘There’s Summer over for another year’. Investing in a pair of sunglasses ensures that you can roll your eyes endlessly at all these bullshit without jokesters being made aware of your disdain. But then again, considering these people are the sort of people to forward you on chain e-mails containing death threats you can’t even begin to muster up a fuck to give about, just punch them in the face and be done with it.
Recently, whilst standing in a crowded place eating a Cuban pulled-pork sub, it hit me, ‘How the fuck are us wimmin supposed to snag ourselves a husband when we don’t even trying to be fucking dainty?’ Of course, I immediately threw my sub in the bin and hung around hoping for someone to pat me on the arse and tell me I did a great job of cleaning the kitchen. But what if I had a cute accessory that held my sandwich whilst also pulling together an outfit? I wouldn’t have had to fuck that sub in the bin…
Enter: the Sandwich Necklace (TM). Functional and fashionable, it provides a sandwich perch for your sub whilst the necklace bit comes in an array of ribbon-y colours based on whatever ribbons you can find knocking about your cupboards. Leaves your otherwise sandwich-engaged hands free for unpaid manual labour, drying your eyes after crying yourself to sleep and ‘liking’ Marilyn Monroe quotes on Facebook.
With our fluctuating Spring weather, you can’t even begin to predict if those few hours of sunshine followed by a period of rain signals that Summer is over for another year, or whether that March snow-shower shows that global warming isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, so why not invest in a pair of not-cunty-at-all earmuffs to keep your ears toasty? As an added bonus, since Cheryl (née Cole, née Tweedy) is making a comeback after a few months off from ‘’making music’’, said earmuffs could make all the difference between her strained vocals muffling their way to your unsuspecting brain, and snapping under the rage and going straight to Pineapple Dance Studios or wherever she spends her Nike Air Max-wearing days and clubbing her to death with a Bargain Bin spilling over with cracked copies of ‘Sound of the Underground’ (surely Cheryl, the human equivalent of a spat-out Juicy Fruit raving at a Big Fat Gypsy Wedding would know that the lyrics of ‘Sound of the Underground’ do not, in fact, depict the sound of the underground).
Poor Queen Elizabeth has kicked off Spring 2013 by falling ill with Gastroenteritis so investing in a good pair of kneepads so you can fall to your knees and pray for her speedy recovery is something you should do pronto. Isn’t it great that Queen Elizabeth, or Cuntface as I shall henceforth refer to her as, can check herself into a private healthcare facility for something that most of us wouldn’t even ring in sick over, while the rest of us watch as the NHS deteriorates from ‘paltry’ to ‘abysmal’ right before our very eyes? I, for one, am glad that Cuntface can go home and sleep off her minor illness in her taxpayer-funded palace nursed by the ‘little people’ that serve her, because humouring the Monarchy isn’t antiquated fuckery at all. Furthermore, it is my utmost hope that she doesn’t, y’know, die a slow and painful death or anything.
Well, that’s my picks for Spring 2013. Have a fashionable day, girlfriends! Etc.