Sensible Shoes and Sensibility

I seem to have a reputation for buying shoes.  I cannot lie, I do love shoes and seem to have a fair few pairs, but I generally always buy stuff that’s reasonably priced or on sale, honest!  I think the psychological reason for this so-called addiction must be because I have been cursed with size 41 feet (a man-sized 42 in some shops, weep), and to combat this, I need to buy shoes that make my feet feel beautiful.  (Did that sound convincing?)

However, this seemingly frivolous story has now taken on a tragic chapter. My friends, I have developed bunions, particularly on my left foot.  Clearly, it wasn’t enough that I look like I’ve got extra joints in my prehensile monkey toes, now the big toe joints want to move out sideways as well.  Not fair! Yes, I love high heels, but I don’t wear them all the time; I don’t like and have never worn pointy shoes; I often wear comfortable shoes for distance and change when at my destination...but even flat shoes hurt me now.  Am I going to have to choose between orthopaedic shoes or a wheelchair?

And there’s no such thing as a pair of shoes which are comfortable AND beautiful, trust me.  A recent trip to Clarks had me practically retching at the sensible granny sandals.

Vs.

A few months ago I bought the heels above for my best friend’s wedding – I’m one of the ‘Wing Women’ and part of our dress code is red shoes.  Although they concerned me with their height (I’m over 5 foot 8 and these babies were pushing me up to drag queen proportions), they felt fine in their nice soft suede and elegant 50s pin-up shape.  But it now appears that my feet have literally mutated, and at an alarming rate.  With 2 weeks until the big day, last night I began the breaking-in process by wearing them around the flat with thick socks on. After a couple of hours my foot joints were actually throbbing.  How am I going to last a whole day in them, let alone lead a wedding disco conga?  I think I may have to replace them. Typical that this is way out of the 28 day returns policy and they’ve now gone down in the sale!

I think I’ve found an alternative- the red version of the LK Bennett shoes Kate Middleton wore a few weeks ago.  They’re still elegant and soft suede, but closer to the ground therefore in theory helping realign my balance onto my foot. But then again Kate wouldn’t baulk at the still pricey sale price of £125, especially as I’ve already spent £70 on the other pair. SIGH.  Otherwise I think I’ve tried nearly every red shoe available in the UK on and they’re either too casual, too uncomfortable or too ugly and cankle-y.  There’s nothing else for it.  After I’ve forked out for those, the others (and many of their neighbours unfortunately) are going on eBay. Then I’m saving up for a foot operation...

Cut it out

In these sleazy tabloid times, I have a confession to make: I read the Daily Mail website. DON'T JUDGE ME. I may not have adopted their self righteous right-wing attitudes (yet...!) but I do enjoy their vapid celeb articles.  [This is as old as the hills but still makes me laugh: The Daily Mail-o-matic headline generator - sample: 'Have Benefit Claimants Made British Swans Obese?]  Anyway, I noticed there seems to be endless 'news' articles about celebs wearing bikinis, either 'showing off her stunning figure' (or 'flaunting her curves' if she's considered a bit fat).

I usually skim over these, as my retinas had only just about recovered from the assault of Toni Terry's slutsuit, when another WAG type unleashed ('leash' being an apt word) this stupid thing:

I have no idea who this woman is but she is dating a footballer with a name I can't spell

Now you might think it's not that bad.  But look closer.  What are those stupid tape measure-like straps and rivet holes?  What's the point?  I think that the trend for cut-out swimsuits or monokinis or whatever seems to be getting more extreme.  Designers must be wondering where else they can add superfluous straps to and cut holes from (eek!).  Obviously they’re not particularly good for swimming in or comfortable (Toni’s wedgie still makes me wince) but the thing that bugs me the most is how ridiculous the tan marks must be.  The main purpose of these cozzies is obviously for posing and sunbathing in, but the wearer must have to slap on a very high factor sun cream and spend most of their time in the shade or covered up, which would defeat the object surely? I have a bad enough time trying to avoid strapmarks. Can you imagine what you’d look like underneath if you spent too long in the sun in these?

The Christmas tree torso effect

Your belly would be as patchy as my picture layout skills

Plus only a very small proportion of the population would actually be able to wear these things.  If you had any hint of love handles they'd ooze out of all the holes.  But I guess that's the idea, isn't it?  It's for these celebs to show that they are not built like ordinary people and are rich enough to afford less fabric.  Fine, okay, I'm not bitter but just remember, there's a fine line between sultry and porny. Or this...

"I like!"

Handbags and Glad Blags

Hello again and profuse apologies for going quiet on you.  I’ve had a bit of distracting stuff going on over the last couple of weeks, but am back to being shallow and talking about buying material things once more, don’t worry! 


So then, the sales have been on for a while but have generally failed to impress me with their ‘up to 50% off’ claims. Pah - 70% is where the real magic happens: such as this leather lovely I got yesterday from Episode at House of Fraser, £40.50 down from £135!

Ooo, ladylike boxy shape! Chain handle! Laser cutting! I did briefly consider one of those amaaaazing Christopher Kane neon laser cut clutches, but I had a feeling that as soon as I parted with my much needed £295, Primark would bring out their own bargainous version (still waiting; those kids in the sweatshops just aren’t cutting fast enough!). Plus I wanted one in each of the 4 colours.  So I figured that this tasteful taupe bag would bean alternative which would transcend seasonal trends and help me on my quest to look more grown up and polished.

(Speaking of polished, I discovered a company who claim to be able to restore leather handbags, and after a bit of negotiation, am hoping they’ll return my magenta Mulberry Mabel to at least a useable condition and give it a clean and a new coat of polish for £35.  It would certainly be brilliant if I could get it back out of the wardrobe and back onto my shoulder, because that was also a dearly beloved sale bargain and I could fit my entire WORLD into that bag.  I shall keep you updated if Mabel looks young and beautiful once more!)

Okaaay, I have to admit tasteful taupe wasn't quite enough to appease me...the retail therapy continued with a £25 impulse buy from ASOS (above).  This disco hottie could possibly pass for an Anya Hindmarch (ish) (below). Except I haven’t even used it yet and I’ve got glitter all over my desk, my bedroom, my face...I wonder if the glue is ten times better on the £250 version?

Glamping

It’s that time of year where it seems every women’s magazine has the same articles in every one: “Pre-Holiday Boot Camp”, “Bikinis to Suit Your Shape!” and “Festival Fashion”.  Whilst I usually skip over the first two with an Almond Magnum and a strategically-tied sarong, the third one makes me laugh a little bit.  When I see strappy gladiator sandals and jumpsuits suggested as a suitable ensemble for a UK festival, it makes me wonder whether the writers have ever actually been to a festival without staying in a luxury lockable caravan with its own wardrobe, toilet, shower, cleaner and electrical socket for the hair straighteners.  We’re not all Alexa Chung in the VIP area.

Are those SUEDE HEELS? Should've gone for those Wedge Wellies that were on Dragons' Den

I confess I’ve not actually been to that many festivals; despite the fact that I adore live music, I DETEST camping and hassle.  When I was a teen, my parents were adamant that I was too young for festivals and there would be bad people and bad drugs.  By the time I was deemed old enough, it was the year of trench foot at Glastonbury, and looking at the weather forecast I opted to go to my 6^th Form ball.  Some of my friends went though and had their tent broken into and their stuff nicked, and had to wear bin bags with elastic bands over their wellies in an attempt to traverse the rivers of mud and sewage.  But regardless of the unpredictable British weather, now it’s all about looking good – and like the look is 'effortless' (oh the irony) insouciance ('What this? Oh just a little vintage thing I threw on...') as opposed to the practical.

That's more like it

Okay, so the weather was good at Hard Rock Calling in Hyde Park last year (10 mins from home with my own shower and bed, yay!) but the queue for the ladies’ portaloos went on for EVER, probably due to the number of dolly birds wearing playsuits.  When you’re in a stinky box hovering gingerly over a mound of other people’s waste, the last thing you want to do is be unbuttoning and climbing out of your ENTIRE OUTFIT, surely?  Hold breath, dash in, wee, jump out, gag and try to forget about the horrors you’ve just witnessed.  And is that beer that's seeping through your flip flop, or something more sinister...? 

This week’s Grazia even had a page of “Festival Fragrances”, which included a bottle of perfume which cost £120.  As if you’d weigh your rucksack down with that rather than a jumbo bottle of vodka and a can of Impulse!  Maybe I should go along and rob some tents whilst everyone’s bopping to The Saturdays; I’d love a Marc Jacobs bag and a pair of Jimmy Choo Hunter boots...

I thought THIS was what festival fashion was really all about (just say 'No' to drugs, kids!):

Wish You Were Here!

Apologies for the delay in this post (the subject now being several days old), I was in shock after hearing Hugh Hefner and his fiancée had split.  But it was true love!  (Maybe she actually read the terms of the Pre-Nup?) And on the subject of perfect couples...

Just as yet another Premier League footballer hits the headlines for his seedy infidelity, John Terry and his wife Toni are on holiday showing us just how in love they are.  Aww, look at them, how sweet that there just happened to be a photographer nearby to catch them unawares as they discreetly show their affection for one another.  Why, just a year ago, he was the one in the headlines and now here they are, more in love than ever.  All Toni had to do was stop wearing her ring for a couple of weeks and John had given up his numerous [alleged] infidelities and whisk her away on a few romantic holidays.  Of course, they’re a private, modest couple so they wanted to play this down, especially at this sensitive time for the family of the philanderer currently in the news.  Therefore Toni’s wearing a conservative one-piece bathing costume so nobody recognises them – also to observe the strict decency laws in the United Arab Emirates.  Well, regular tan lines are just so poor people.  Bless them and their heartwarming marriage.  What an inspiration.

Nigella's Burq-kini this ain't

Oh and look, Peter Crouch and Abbey Clancey are on holiday and just happen to have been caught smooching by a photographer too!  And Wayne and Colleen!  Looks like those hookers have been forgotten about!  Damn those paparazzi, ruining their intimate private time.  I wonder if Mr and Mrs Giggs are planning a romantic holiday anytime soon?  Wouldn’t we all be shocked if we saw how much in love they are when they’re alone together?  That would show the cynics!
[Font:  Sarcastic Sans].

I wish when HB and I were on holiday we had a photographer following us around.  We have mostly wonky drunk ones taken with a bad flash.  They could’ve just given us the cue and we could’ve sucked our stomachs in and smooched photogenically in the sea, rather than set the timer and desperately scrambled into position or tried to take a headshot at arm’s length and ended up with double chins and red eyes...

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

This Stinks

I thought Chanel No.5's Nicole Kidman "I'm a dancer! I love to dance!" advert was the most cringey perfume ad ever, but I've been reading one of my favourite beauty blogs Kiss and Make Up today and have seen not one but two dreadful perfume commercials, and unsurprisingly, they're celebrity ones.

Up first is Justin Bieber's Someday:

*Sniiiiiffff*...However I suspect it's not aimed at women like me who are actually old enought to be his mother (weep!) and the 11 year olds are already "ZMOG I wish that was me HE IZ SO FIT LOL!!!!!!!".  Urgh.  And how much of a rip off of Marc Jacobs' Lola is that bottle?

But if that wasn't enough to put you off your lunch, check out Unbreakable, a unisex fragrance By Khloe Kardashian and her husband Lamar. Hurl!  It's so cheesy, I now imagine the perfume smells like a mature roquefort.  Nice touch with the twinkly wedding rings.  I give them 6 months.

And lastly, I found a couple of gems in print form: the terrible cheap photoshop of Mariah Carey's Lollipop Bling collection:

 

And I Love Myself and You Are All Gullible Scum (oh, my mistake, it's Siren) by the ever-modest Paris Hilton.  If anything makes me want to dash my brains out against the rocks like a sailor driven mad by the mythological siren, it's her facial expression and the fact that she now has 10 (TEN!) fragrances on the market. 

And I thought Outrageous by Kerry Katona was bad.  At least she couldn't afford to advertise it! 

Rabbiting On

Now I sang the praises of the 1950s style Gil Elfgren pin-ups the other day, and I'm all for retro but I just cannot make my mind up about how I feel about the opening of the Playboy Club in London.  Is it cheeky kitsch charm?  After all, it's far more innocent than boobs(and worse)-in-your-face lap dancing clubs.  Or is it a bit more sinister than that?  Is it saying that things haven't changed for women since the 60s and we're all going backwards?  And what about Hef? Until recently, the Viagra-addled miniature octogenarian had 3 twenty-something identikit girlfriends who were happy to share him; now he's marrying a 25 year old.  Is he an old fashioned gentleman?  Is it true love? Or are basically, men driven by young girls with big tits and women driven by money and lifestyle?  That seems to be what the Playboy brand is saying.

I read an interview today with Hugh Hefner and he said:

We live in a post-feminist society where a lot of women have grown  up watching things like the popular reality show that was set in the Playboy mansion. The majority of viewers of that show were young women. I’m on Twitter and get fan messages, a lot from young women, who love Playboy and love the bunny.
Why do they say they like it?
It means different things to different people but for me it means personal, economic and political freedom. Maybe young women love the lifestyle represented in the TV show.
Other than the money, why do some women want to become Playboy models?
It’s a form of sexual emancipation. The very thing some feminists consider exploitation represents, for a great many other women, a form of sexual celebration.

Read more: http://www.metro.co.uk/lifestyle/865460-hugh-hefner-i-get-female-fans-on-twitter-saying-they-love-playboy#ixzz1OaYcaU42

I don't claim to be a very good feminist but when Hefner, and his Playboy girls claim it's 'sexual emancipation' and  'empowering', I have to laugh.  The women are dressed to serve, and please the men.  They're not there for their waitressing or croupier skills.  They're making money from their face and bodies.  And yes, perhaps for a great many women, being looked at and told you're sexy or gorgeous is the ultimate achievement.  And the money helps.  But if my [hypothetical] daughter said it was her life's ambition to be a Bunny Girl, I'd wonder where I went wrong - where women's rights have gone wrong over the last few decades.

I've been in the consumer's position; I went to a hen party where we had a Butler in the Buff.  He looked good, and he was there to serve us.  We checked out his buns.  We giggled and leered.  His mojito making skills left a lot to be desired; however, if a chubby plain guy had turned up, we'd have kicked up a fuss, right?  But he wasn't doing the job to be 'empowered' by bending over in front of a gang of leering cougars, he was paying his way through university.  So when the Bunnies or their creator dress it up as post-feminist, I just don't get it.  We all like to look at good-looking things.  We'll pay for that pleasure.  Some people like money more than being respected.  Is that it?  Or have I misunderstood everything?

Mmm, now I fancy a mojito...