What IS it about Fashion these days..?

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Idle blogs of an idle fellow

Ooh fashion
We are the goon squad and we’re coming to town
Beep-beep, beep-beep

David Bowie. Fashion.

What do our clothes say about us? I don’t mean when they’re crushed together in the laundry basket wondering who’s next to be washed, and cursing the current favourite top that barely lands before being whisked off to be cleaned – although I can see that as the next Pixar movie. No, I mean what do they announce about ourselves to the world that might otherwise stay silent. I don’t just mean band tee-shirts that marked some final tour in 1978, the one that’s not had the good times rinsed out since.

You can complete character profiles based upon little more than the type of sandwich someone habitually eats, so clothes are a dead giveaway. That there’s more hashtags for yoga pants than there is for yoga itself tells you all you need…

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Small slices of life

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Building castles, pies in the sky, leaving pebbles underneath the neon lights. Did you see the marble statue looking down on us, with an enigmatic and slightly benign smile, injecting magic in an otherwise pink and subdued night. On the merry-go-round, eyes shut tight, the unicorns turn and dance with the swines.

A little star dust is the only make up worthy of the dreams in my eyes, and the whisky coloured words no less than our misfit minds deserve.

Give us a few light years and we will have figured out nothing, but by then we might have written a couple of epic stories & modern myths.

Somewhere, a giant will weep in the darkness and indifference while secrets — never meant to be kept — will burst, tired of waiting for deliverance.

The poets are dead, I don’t want nor need their decayed crowns on my head, I’m happy with graffiti on my walls, stylish and sexy, never mind the bald eagles — utterly appalled — screaming at me in fury.

What else matters but our collection of moments, small slices of life, gathered in my hands whilst I strike a pose—hold it for the pages of Vogue—before releasing them all…and people slow to a crawl…awed and warmed by the radiant colours flying up into the ether. 

Anniversaire – toujours

So, since apparently the selfies are not p*****g people off too much…and I am still celebrating my birthday…and I am hesitating between outfits (though narrowed it down to two) for today’s shenanigans…I am shamelessly leaving these here…and anybody who might feel compelled to help me decide…thanks for your help! 😉

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A whole lot of nothing

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sometimes I want to be a Jean Paul Gaultier doll
a stylishly vulgar androgynous bottle
with platinum hair
and sexy stare
couture tattoos
& no taboos
dancing on a creaky barge on the Seine

then, there are times when I feel very much
like the Coco Chanel bird
tweeting in her golden cage
too exclusive to be touched
feathers
dripping with Frenchness
and a cool intellectual sexiness

what about the rock chick
and her worn leather
vertiginous heels, chunky rings
messy eyeliner
she gets her kicks
from breathing smoke in dirty bars
getting drunk on anaemic guitars

last night, I was none of those things
but a mix of Nicole Kidman and Grace Kelly
I was the icy blonde Hitchcock was so fond of
a Stepford wife lookalike
only—one who would bite
if anyone should be taken in
and not realise I was just play-acting

remember: don’t judge a book by its cover
appearances can be very deceiving
there are many facets to my personality
today I am covered in flour and cocoa powder
channeling my beloved grandmother
making a cake while writing
a whole lot of nothing

Happy Bastille Day!

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Away from home I may be, but I remain distinctly and unashamedly French. Today is Bastille Day in France which is celebrated on July 14th each year. It is a national holiday and commemorates the storming of the Bastille on July 14th 1789.
Bastille Day is the anniversary of “our Revolution”, when we rejected monarchy and the principle of inherited privileges.
Today, I am wearing the only thing in my wardrobe that carries the 3 colours of the French flag – I was told I looked like a 1950’s housewife but hey, who cares?  – the wind did its best to whip my dress all over the place but we managed a few pics. Now I have an evening of (French) food and wine ahead to celebrate a day that’s incredibly important to the French people.

“No dictator, no invader, can hold an imprisoned population by force of arms forever. There is no greater power in the universe than the need for freedom. Against that power, governments and tyrants and armies cannot stand.”
– J. Michael Straczynski

The Queen just doesn’t care folks!

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This morning, the Madonna-Drake kiss was still trending. The internet was awash with people taking the piss because Drake wiped his mouth afterwards and looked “disgusted”.

Well, I watched that controversial kiss and Drake didn’t look too upset by it while it was going on. So he wiped his lips afterwards – it being Madonna she probably was wearing 25 coats of lipstick and lipgloss – and that would taste pretty vile.
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Whatever, none of this is the issue. The issue is the fact that so many people can’t accept that Madonna, at her age, still behaves like a hot-blooded woman. How dare she? How sad, and pathetic and when will she take up knitting ffs?

Yeah, that kiss was probably staged (by her) but this is what she does – this is Madonna’s selling point: sex. It has been since days of yore and it’s not about to change now. Personally I’ve always had a sneaky suspicion that she’s not that much into it and that it is mainly a marketing ploy. Which is fine.

I’m not a Madonna fan but I’m getting really pissed with this pathetic ageism and sexism. Whether it was staged or she really fancied getting her tongue down some guy’s throat is neither here nor there – the gleeful comments about the cougar and “her poor disgusted prey” were just ridiculous.
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Get over it people. Madonna really, really doesn’t care what you think. She couldn’t give a rat’s ass if the whole internet melted down in shock and horror at her antics. Hello? She loves people talking about her and the more insulting the comments are, the better! It just confirms her in her role as the edgy misfit who still has the power to shock and outrage – it makes her relevant, still – and all the people rushing to have a go are just playing into her hand.

Like her or not, Madonna is a Queen. She has cemented that status over the last fuck knows how many years – and nothing anybody says is going to change that.

You have a problem with a 56 year-old woman kissing a much younger guy? Fair enough, express your feelings, tell the world. Just be aware that the Queen doesn’t give a flying fuck what you think.

And just for information, there are plenty of 56-year old women out there who kiss people, fuck people (some of them younger than themselves), who enjoy it, and might (gasp, shock, horror) even be good at it. Get over it. And hope that you might be lucky enough when you get to that age to have as much fun as they’re having.
imageImage credit: http://www.dailymail.co.uk, http://www.cnn.com, http://www.someecards.com, whisper.sh