I have a little saying that has served me well throughout my life: "If I can’t do it in my stilettos, it’s probably not worth doing". Luckily, there’s not much I can’t do in my stilettos, hence my other little saying: "If you can do it in your trainers, I can do it in my heels." I can do most things in my heels: I even climbed up a volcano in them once, but we don’t talk about that so much because that was STUPID (and in my defence, I was young, and it was unplanned).
As I grow older, though (and this worries me), I find myself turning to flats more often for certain things. Yesterday, for instance, when I went on my mammoth honeymoon shopping trip? I wore my flats. When I’m actually on holiday? Flip-flops and khussas all the way, baby. (And heels for the evening, natch). And I think that if I were to run 350 metres through the streets of Amsterdam, like the women in the picture above, who are taking part in Glamour Magazine’s Stiletto race, I’d probably prefer to wear something comfortable and – dare I say it – sensible, thanks very much. Of course, that would get me disqualified (heels have to be 7cm to take part) and I wouldn’t win the 10,000 euro prize, but at least I wouldn’t break my ankles, either.
I’m absolutely loving Delia’s right now. We’re stuck here at the dog end of a long, cold winter, and Delia’s is just filled to the prim with colourful, cheap things that make it all better. And I know the sheer Barbie-ness of these shoes should automatically make me turn my nose up at them, but I’m not going to: I love the curvy shape of them, I love the polka dots – and yes, I even love the bubble-gum pink colour. They also come in black and yellow, and you know what? I’d totally buy those, too.
OK fashion designers and retailers, the game’s up. I want you to come out now with the tunics above your heads (no, not like that!) and no one will get hurt here. That’s it, all the way out…
You see, I’ve had enough. I have tried to love the tunic top, I really have. Hell, I even bought one. I tried to love them, in all their billowing, empire lined glory. I told myself they didn’t make me look like a pregnant lady. I told myself that why, loud, psychedelic prints could totally work. And you know what? They totally could. Just not on me. Because let’s face it: that sole tunic I bought even makes the coathanger look pregnant. And while I’m sure those prints do look great on someone, I’m now so sick of them that I’m calling a tunic amnesty. Let’s have no more of these unflattering sacks. Let’s get back to dresses that flatter our figures rather than making random people in the street smile at us and ask us when the baby’s due. Whaddya say?
Now, this isn’t going to be yet another, "GOD, I hate dungarees" post (although I totally do. Hate them, that is), and OK, even I can see that the shirt is cute, but… does it strike anyone else that this woman is dressed like a little boy? Why is that, do you suppose? Why would a grown woman want to look like a toddler? (Other than the fact that Nordstrom told her to, that is? )
It’s a strange one, although as I say, I can totally did the shirt. It’s just pairing it with the kiddie pants that really doesn’t appeal to me somehow…
OK, fashion enforcers, help me out here. Do I love these shoes or do I hate them? I know I hate loud prints… on anything else. But on these? I’m not so sure. I’m trying to imagine them with a fairly neutral outfit – maybe a classic black dress for instance – and I have to admit, I’m quite liking the idea. What about you? Love them or hate them? Tell me about it…
I’ve been pretty unimpressed with River Island lately… It’s been all cheap looking tops and weird, spangly teenage-fashion, and I? Hate that. This week, though, they’ve taken delivery of a few pieces that I’ve been drooling over. I totally want the cropped ankle-skimmer pants, and the little jacket? Audrey would have been proud… I can’t link to the individual items unfortunately, but you’ll find everything in the picture at www.riverisland.com
If you gave a five year old some crayons and a sheet of paper and asked him to draw you a dress, I’m pretty sure this is the kind of thing he’d come up with. (Hey, Tibi – looks like I just saved you some money on design salaries, no?) The simple, triangular shape, the bright, primary colours of the flowers. Yup, it’s childlike all right. I absolutely love it, though. It makes me smile. It’s £230 from Net-a-Porter.
I still have no idea what the fascination is with Sarah Harding and her haircuts, but I know a large number of people still wind up here having googled for pictures of her hair, so for the benefit of those people, here’s her latest ‘do’:
Now, this isn’t going to be yet another, "
