Is it a girls world?: Fashion Melt Downs......

Is it a girls world?: Fashion Melt Downs......: "It’s the weekend, the sun is shining, what else can a girl do but indulge herself in her favourite pastime? Yep ladies I’m talking about sho..."

Fashion Melt Downs......

It’s the weekend, the sun is shining, what else can a girl do but indulge herself in her favourite pastime? Yep ladies I’m talking about shopping (again!). Chanel sunglasses perched on my nose and gladiator sandals on my feet I waltzed off into town ready to treat myself. A few hours in, empty handed and suffering from a serious bout of changing room rage I found myself sat the city square, icy Starbuck’s in hand indulging in one of my favourite past times. People watching. As I sat in the sunshine with my blood pressure slowly dropping from the dizzy heights the changing rooms had pushed it to, I started to look around me and was slightly concerned by what I saw. Why is it when the sun comes out some peoples style goes in to hiding? Most city centres are now style savvy, what with the rise of shops like Primarni and cheaper fashion magazines, style and high fashion is something that is now within every ones reach. Now I know your thinking how can a maxi dress go wrong? Surely that’s the easiest item to wear? You would think so but for some reason in the heat women stop thinking about the shape of their body and wear clothes that are so ill fitting. I have to be clear here that this is NOT a size debut but a style debate. As a heavy chested girl I know that strapless/ spaghetti strapped tops or dress don’t work for me, they don’t in winter and they still don’t in the balmy summer time either. That’s why I don’t wear them. I need a thick strap so all scaffolding that is required can remain in place. Same goes for all you gorgeous pear shaped women with your lovely J-Lo bums, you look stunning in a maxi dress that gently skims and flatters your assets. Hot pants that flash next week’s laundry do not. For those of us who have more jelly than belly round the front, why wear a crop top? I do not want to scare small children or inflict my fat rolls on innocent bystanders. A longer vest top looks so much stylish and flattering. Another serious style no no is Ugg boots with hot pants. If it’s warm enough to strut round in teeny tiny shorts and a vest you really don’t need them on. How hot and sweaty must your feet be?! But it’s not just disregarding your body shape completely that happens, for some reason some women really aren’t bothered by how what they wear fits. Skirts that are so tight round the waist they don’t just create a muffin top as much as an entire bakery. Cotton dresses that probably looked great 15 yrs ago but now hang at the most unflattering point on the leg and create a VPL that doesn’t exist. What’s that? Did Nike start making tents? No? Ah I see, the sun is shining, it’s boiling hot and wearing your fella’s XL t-shirt seemed a good idea. No, it really isn’t, not even if you’re a super model. But ladies the biggest fashion faux par is the flashing of the bra. We all have our favourite one, it’s a bit battered, the colour has faded, it’s gone grey and the world does not need to see it shining through your summer cottons or trying to escape the confines of your vest top. If you are wearing white, you need white underwear, nude as the worst case scenario. No fashion guru from any couture house has ever thought a pink bra looks good under a white t-shirt. The final style rule for summer is the pedicure. It doesn’t matter if your sporting Collection 2000’s Hot Head or Chanel Le Vernis in Mimosa, make sure it’s not chipped and applied all over the nail. The only cracks should be with OPI Black Shatter.

As I reflected on the sights I have witnessed today one thing is very clear. Fashion, elegance and style have little to do with credit cards and couture. Rather than letting fashion wear and dictate to us, it’s about understanding our own unique body shapes. Getting the balance between what suits us and what doesn’t is a difficult process and one we often all get wrong from time to time. I would love to just for once be able to wear a strapless dress but I can’t, for me a top has to be something that can accommodate the over the shoulder boulder holder. It’s about the finishing touches, ensuring our underwear is hidden and knowing ourselves.

(E)x Box loving....

Ladies picture the scene - it's an ordinary week day evening. Dinner has been made, washing up has been done, you’re settled on the sofa with a glass of something chilled in hand. Suddenly your other half jumps up and stumbles out of the room, mumbling something you can't quite make out. Your mind may start to wonder what on earth he is up too, is he ill? Maybe needing to be sick? Or maybe he is having an affair and his other love interest is about to ring? Or maybe if you’re like me you will just settle a little deeper into the sofa feeling a flip of excitement that your queen of the remote! Now ladies, please don't think I'm cold or that I'm selfish or that I don't care, I really do. I just know his secret. It's the same as most men, his love for this is all consuming for him. Yep ladies I'm on about the games console. Whether it is the XBox or PlayStation all men are madly addicted to their beloved plastic boxes. In my house it's completely my own fault. The boys got the red ring of death (XBox lingo for very broken!) and he was beside himself, as it was his birthday coming up I actually volunteered to buy him a new one. Even now as I reflect on this act of kindness I do wonder why! The thing that confuses us women is the power the console has. The power to turn an intelligent, kind, loving boyfriend into a crazy, angry mini beast! Normally well spoken and polite the boy comes out with words and phrases I have never heard let alone thought he would use. Luckily Lady Gaga turned up drowns most of it out! The other thing that boggles the mind is the amount of time and planning goes into organising the console sessions. Facebook invites, sleep overs and code words are all part and parcel off the console loving community. It completely baffles me how a group of successful, clever, funny men can be so consumed by imaginary games and a few garish graphics. Naively in an attempt to take and interest and to understand this bizarre trend I asked the boy if he fancied a game. After he recovered from the shock and I had dragged myself away from perusing AllSaints new collection we sat in front of said lump of plastic, whilst he logged me in. The boy offered a choice of games, but being honest they all seemed to be the same thing to me. A variety of different characters in different settings, with one objective. To kill each other. Great stuff. With a slightly heavy heart I selected a character (there were clearly no girly ones!) and gave it a name. This caused us to hit the first bump in the road. Apparently Princess Sunshine isn’t a suitable name for Call of Duty. Or gaming in general. Now I’m not one to stomp my Louboutin’s over something so little but I wasn’t about to change the name. With a heavy sigh the boy showed me the controller and I tried to get to grips with the multi tasking, something as women we are normally good at. After a few minutes I was very confused and a little bit bored. Ladies I have to admit, I just didn’t get it!! It didn’t help that I realised I was looking at the wrong screen. After a shameful defeat I retired to do some yoga and took the opportunity to reflect on this console situation. I’m truly clueless as to what the attraction is this time. How can one plastic box make the boy not only multi task but also organize things? As I wandered back into the room I asked him what was so good about gaming. My response from the boy was for him to shrug his shoulders and mutter ‘it’s good’. Great, well that clears things up. From a female point of view I know we would all happily bin the damn things and many times I have been tempted. It was as I found myself alone, snuggled on the sofa later that night, fully stretched out, watching whatever I wanted that I realised that it doesn’t matter that I don’t get it. What I do get and enjoy is the peace and quiet it brings me. After all whilst the boy is X Boxing would he really notice if the credit card and I slipped for a little retail therapy? xX

Is it a girls world?: Mirror mirror on the wall........

Is it a girls world?: Mirror mirror on the wall........: "As the weekend approached I was hit with the inevitable crisis all women dread. The unexplained phenomenon that befalls us all at some point..."

Mirror mirror on the wall........

As the weekend approached I was hit with the inevitable crisis all women dread. The unexplained phenomenon that befalls us all at some point, usually at a pivotal moment in our lives. Despite 1 large wardrobe (with 2 shelves) 5 very roomy drawers and 2 suitcases over flowing under the bed I find I have nothing to wear. Nothing. Nada. Not a stitch. It's a modern mystery that baffles us all. I'm not even sure how I have gotten in to this situation. Shopping is my secret addiction, how could this have happened? So with my credit cards sobbing in the Vivienne Westwood, I resigned myself to the fact I would have to go shopping. So off I went, now we all know that tingle of anticipation as we drive off to our favourite shops, day dreaming of the perfect bargain, hoping to find that one ideal item that will instantly make you thinner and more stylish. For me it's the moment you see the display windows, an array of outfits displayed to inspire and delight, an ideal opportunity to see sample colours and styles you wouldn’t normally consider. So it’s with great enthusiasm that I waltzed into the first shop, expectations sky high and money burning a hole in the pockets of my 7 for AllManKinds. I quickly set about piling my arms high with gorgeous dresses, fabulous skirts and glam tops. Next stop the changing rooms, which is where I encountered the first obstacle. Ladies we have all been there, arms piled high with beautiful finds, only to be told by the bored looking assistant- 'you can only take 6 items in at once'. What?! Seriously?! How am I going to see what tops and bottoms look like together? With sizes being so variable from shop to shop I need to have a least one of every size to see which fits best! It was scarily obvious from her bored expression and perfectly shaped arched eyebrow, she really didn’t care about my protest. So instead it was a hot shoe shuffle (for me) trying pieces on and passing them back forth to her to ensure that I never had more than 6 items in the cubicle with me. This brings up the next issue. Changing rooms. Clearly designed by a man or possibly a narcissistic woman. Who knows? Whoever it was obviously hates women and shopping. Firstly there is a space issue, who can get changed in that tiny (usually filthy) little cubicle? A Borrower maybe? If you’re lucky there may be a chair or stool to rest on but mostly it’s just you in a 1meter square box, the 6 items you were allowed and the mirror. Yep, the mother of all evils is the changing room mirror. Another item obviously designed as an item of torture. It is only in a changing room mirror that your thighs can wobble more than a turkey’s neck, your skin looks like your thirteen again and cellulite appears on the tops of your arms (I kid you not, this really happened to me!). By now it’s starting to get hot, the lights are too harsh, a queue is growing outside the changing room and stress levels are rising. Meanwhile Little Miss ‘6 Items Only’ is chatting away to her mate about last night’s antics, leaving you stranded in your underwear awaiting the next 6 items. Through gritted teeth I managed to politely ask if she could pass me the clothes, reluctant to be dragged away from her conversation, she rolled her eyes and passed me the clothes. With that ladies, I have to admit I was ready to abandon ship and admit defeat. Only the pressure of having nothing to wear kept me going.  Eventually I broke free from the bad lights, evil mirrors and overheating, having selected a few items from the pile and made my way to pay. As I escaped into the fresh air, a crisp new carrier bag swinging on my arm, the familiar buzz of excitement starts to creep over. The euphoria of having found an outfit and survived the changing rooms trauma all becomes too much and a Starbucks appear to be the only way forward before  round two, shoe shopping, can commence.

Interestingly in April this year Marie Claire magazine and the New York Times both published articles that stated that according to a recent study 75% of all female shoppers suffer from Changing Room Rage (CRR) during shopping trips. But is this really that surprising? Between the bad lighting, cruel mirrors, poor customer service and being crammed into an overheated tiny space can retailers really blame us? For most women shopping is treat, a few hours of escapism and an opportunity to feel good about ourselves. All this is ruined when we are faced with the disappointment of the changing room experience. So for the most part I will be joining the 21^st century and internet shopping from now on, safe in the knowledge I can try things on in my own bedroom, where the mirrors and lighting are just a little bit more forgiving! xX