Why the Stylist makes me want to write a hit list (or, Dawn Porter what were you thinking?)

This week Dawn was rallying to the call of her inner feminist. Her inner feminist used to be her outer feminist but then she got a boyfriend and her external skin sort of shrivelled off like a snake. (I suppose for the purpose of this metaphor, her inner feminist is now lying somewhere in the corner of her cage gathering dust.)
Dawn’s inner feminist (her inf) was upset when one of her gal pals confessed that she was considering breaking up with the man of her dreams because he didn’t earn enough. Her pal was understandably upset because she loved this hapless bum and in every other respect, “he was perfect”.

Right now I’m imagining Jack from Titanic. Handsome, charming, a little rough around the edges but he scrubs up well in a borrowed tux so who cares?
Everyone, apparently cares, especially your mother. (I think if my mother had lined up Billy Zane for me and I was making spit balls and steamy windows with Leonardo Di Caprio she would be annoyed too, but I digress.)

Dawn’s pal definitely cares. The option here then is between The Perfect Man who earns less than you, or The Imperfect Man who earns more. WOMEN! If you value a man on the strength of what he earns then he is more than entitled to value you on the strength of what you earn, or what you look like. You want him for money? Really? Then you deserve to end up in the life boat with a coat over your back watching people drown from a distance.

Dawn was shocked and appalled, she immediately wrote to her boardroom babe friend who, she thought, had it all worked out. This pal however was just as depressed as the last one. She hated being the main breadwinner for her family and was sorry she’d ever thought otherwise. This woman had loved her position as she “never felt beholden” but now she just wanted a bunch of flowers that she hadn’t “essentially paid for herself”.
What pains me is that Dawn, once again, seems to mumble incoherently as she says absolutely nothing. Surely what needs to be said is that a) love conquers all! If you love him, you love him. And that b) you are equal entities, you should be treated equally and treat him equally. Embrace the fact that you live in a society where women at least have the chance of bridging the wage gap!

I’m not saying money is bad, just that it has very little to do with character.
If Titanic has taught us anything it’s that the rich man will leave you chained to the sink on a sinking ship. If you marry him for money, it’s only what you deserve.

TOPSHOP AT LONDON FASHION WEEK

In which I remember not to derelict anyone’s balls. (Apart from yours Davy Crocket)

This Saturday the devils paid a visit to the Topshop Unique A/W 2010 show. The catwalk was decked out like an unfriendly forest and guests were given handy survival cards to take away with them. I’m not sure how useful a ball point pen, pair of tweezers and magnifying glass would be in a fix, seems more like a school trip survival guide. Quick, somebody pass me a light emitting diode now!

I have always thought the children’s nursery rhyme entitled (innocuously enough) ‘The Teddy Bear’s Picnic’ was pretty dark. ‘If you go down to the woods today, you’d better go in disguise’ is nothing short of menacing, because you know what will happen if you don’t, you’ll get eaten. And it won’t be tidy. Because ‘every bear that ever there was is gathered there together because, today’s the day the teddy bears have their picnic.” You are that picnic.

The Unique collection made me feel a little like somebody’s lunch. The characters on the catwalk were hunters, and they would fist fight you for your gloves. Beaver and badger head hats sat atop vast bushes of crimped hair that just screamed fire hazard (perhaps that was what we were meant to do with our magnifying glasses…?) Faces were terracotta and muddy and the models all walked from the pit of their stomachs. The clothes were hardy, rugged, and there were one too many leather straps for my liking.

It looked like









It sounded like the theme from Peter and the Wolf and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

It tasted like apple and rhubarb, champagne and mushroom mush. Very forest floor darling.

Celebs we spotted: Nicola Roberts looking very beautiful and Peaches Geldof, looking very bedraggled.