Homogeneous Androgynous

I went to watch DJ AM play a fantastic set at Club 77 last night. I gave my new Alice McCall a thoroughly good ass shaking with, arguably, some of my best moves yet.

About halfway through the set, my girlfriend and I were right up the front getting down when a boy/girl cut in on our personal dancing space (it is generally agreed that each dancer must get around 1m squared of disco space in order to perform at their best ability). My friend busted out a few elbow moves to counteract this gross breach of disco rules, and what happened next was not so much a bitch fight, more a bitch brawl of epic proportions. I can't remember much, it all happened so quickly, one minute I was getting down, the next I was getting scared. Not one, but two drinks were poured on me, and my girlfriend and I ended up clinging to each other, squashed up against the DJ booth, whimpering with terror.

See, the boy/girl had lots of boy/girl friends. I call them boy/girls because I had a very hard time identifying the sexes. I'll admit, I am very short sighted and was not wearing my glasses (didn't go with my Russian doll inspired outfit of the aforementioned Alice McCall dress, thigh high chocolate brown Chloe boots, an adorable white mohair beanie and plenty of Nars orgasm). Generally, even with my vision impairment, it is pretty easy to tell the difference between the males and the females, but not this time. Let me break down the general look.

Males

• Skinny jeans
• Hoodie with the hood kept on the head at ALL times or incredibly long t-shirt (I believe the term is "ghetto gown")
  
• 1990's Nike Air Max or customised Converse (read: pen graffiti and novelty laces, or no laces at all) with the tongues coming up over the skinny jeans
• Statement hair (usually parted to one side so half the face is no longer recognisable and fairly long for male steroetype)
• Pale skin
• Ray Bans with clear lenses
  
• "High fiving a midget" dance moves
• Major teen angst
  

Females

• Skinny jeans or American Apparel tights
  
• Hoodie with the hood kept on the head at ALL times or flannelette shirt worn as a dress
  
• Vintage platform mary janes or leather, pointed lace up brogues
  
• Statement hair (usually parted to one side so half the face is no longer recognisable and fairly short for female stereotype)
• Pale skin
• Ray Bans with clear lenses
  
• "High fiving a midget" dance moves
• Major teen angst

So you can see why I was confused. Once I finally figured out what was what, I realised that the girls were behaving like boys (ie, not very ladylike, pulling hair, using EXTREMELY colourful language) and the boys were behaving like girls (ie letting the girl do the fighting for them, giggling in a coy fashion whilst cowering in the background).

Don't get me wrong, I'm all for feminism and equality of the sexes, but when did the line become so blurred? Where's the excitement if everybody looks the same? Are we all going to morph into one supersex, devoid of any gender? Will the genders completely reverse, with men donning a Dinnigan frock and some Dolce & Gabbana pumps for going out?

Whatever happens, I'm sticking to my defined gender. I'll wear the pants in my relationships, but I'll do it wearing a skirt.

*Image courtesy of http://thesartorialist.blogspot.com/

Yves Saint Laurent Dies

Sadly, Yves Saint Laurent has died at age 71. A genius who pushed the boundaries of women's fashion with Le Smoking, an outfit I would wear today, over 40 years from it's original design.


*Image by Helmut Newton.

Can't Touch This

I recently invested in my first pair of "control" knickers. A high waisted, beige monstrosity that promised to suck it all in to reveal a Gwyneth Paltrow-esque waistline. I tried them on in the David Jones lingerie department and they did indeed flatten my stomach, although my organs were severely compromised to the point where my kidneys were making out.

However, for the sake of my brand new (and incredibly unforgiving) organic cotton t-shirt dress from The Corner Shop, I swiped my credit card and the beige horrors came home with me.

I'll admit, when I went out I looked pretty fabulous. I couldn't sit down and there was no way a drink would fit inside my newly arranged organs, but I was willing to suffer for fashion. Now, I have read Bridget Jones' Diary, I saw the movie, I knew I was to avoid any activity of a sexual nature for fear of revealing my passion killers. Now this was ok, Mr Dress was away and I wasn't planning on any nude action. But noone told me that I WOULD NOT BE ABLE TO KISS ANYONE HELLO.

At a party, the obligatory kiss, or even air kiss is usually paired with a brief touch of the waist or a delightful little 3 second cuddle. I proceeded to do so upon arrival, congratulating myself on my sassy little outfit and supermodel figure (ok, more like catalogue model at 5 feet 4, but hey, the camera would love me). By the fifth meet and greet, I realised I was getting a couple of odd little smirks from the ladies, and scared confusion from the boys. I excused myself to the bathroom, perhaps my fushcia MAC girl about town lipstick was on my teeth? Did I go overboard with the Coco Mademoiselle? Alas, everything seemed in order. I brushed it off as party arrival paranoia and moved back into the midst. I grabbed a glass of champagne, albeit for posing purposes only, and mingled like a pro.

A close girlfriend arrived soon after and as we hadn't seen each other for, oh, at least 2 days, we had a bit of a squeal and a cuddle. Halfway through the cuddle, she withdrew in horror. "What the hell have you got on?".

"Oh, isn't it cute? It's my new t-shirt dress. It's organic, you know."

"Erm, no, what the hell do you have on underneath?"

"Oh I got some of those control knickers, to avoid any love handle action."

"Well it feels like you're made of concrete. It's kind of disgusting." - yeah she's not the most tactful of girls.

And then I realised. The womanly smirks were explanations of "Ha! I knew your stomach wasn't that flat." And the confused boys were thinking "What's wrong with her body? Make it stop! Make it stop!". I spent the rest of the night avoiding everyone. I thought I would try and offer my hand in manner of Jane Austen characters, but this didn't go down too well either. After an hour or so of not speaking to anyone, not drinking and not sitting, I admitted defeat, went home, took off the dress, laughed at my reflection in the mirror, put on my pajamas and watched The Hills.

So yes, control underwear may make you look spectacular visually, a perfect hourglass of womanly perfection. But to the touch, your body feels like you are encased in steel. It's scary and freakish and really not the impression you want to make.

Unless you are J.Lo and have a "Don't touch, don't look me in the eye" policy, buy the next size up, hit the gym or make mumu's your signature.

*Image courtesy of www.zodee.com.au

New Threads

I recently picked up an adorable Sass and Bide skirt and an Alice McCall coat dress to add to my winter wardrobe.



*Images courtesy of www.mycatwalk.com.au and www.sassandbide.com.au.

The Basics

I must applaud American Apparel for getting the basics absolutely spot on. They're classic with a fast fashion edge, good quality, washing machine and dryer safe and cheap as chips. Who doesn't have several 22 buck Deep V Neck T's in their wardrobe?

Here's my pick of the must haves for Winter 2008. For around $220 you can get 7 basic pieces that can be layered up and all you need is a signature bag, some patent ankle boots, some platform Louboutins and a couple of vintage scarves.

American Apparel has a store in Oxford St, Darlinghurst, or jump online at www.americanapparel.com.au or www.fullystoked.com.au.







*Images courtesy of American Apparel.

Ksubi + Google = Ksoogle?

Those innovative, derelicte bondi chic cats at Ksubi have relaunched their website, complete with ppc ads.

Check it out. www.ksubi.com.

High and Wasted - Creating the "Deri-pear"

I have been watching this trend for a couple of years now - it first started with the high waisted skirt back in 2006. A delightful compliment to any figure - cinching the waist, hugging the derriere and a killer moneypenny look when teamed with an almond toe, patent high heel. In fact, this look will feature strongly in my winter wardrobe, with little numbers by Sass and Bide, Alice McCall and Zimmerman worn with black turtlenecks, opaque tights and patent heels.

Then came the high waisted denim short in late 2006. Teamed with a lycra one piece, vintage belt and gladiator thongs, I could appreciate this look (even though I would never attempt it myself). Those amongst us with a perky bum and toned legs looked fab in a 70's endless summer moment.

However, it's the high waisted jean that really concerns me. The recent article "High Society" in April Vogue states, "Pockets of resistance to the trend remain, so we enlisted four fashionable Australian women to wear high-waisted pants with pride."

Now I don't have just a pocket, more so an entire garment of resistance to the high waisted jean, however, these women were professional fashionistas so I was willing to give them a chance. I was pleasantly surprised with the photos, especially the white denim worn by Racquel Thomas. She looked incredibly stylish and tailored. I was almost ready go and buy myself a pair.

But then I remembered. I wouldn't be buying myself a pair, I would be buying myself a "pear".

I forced myself out of the Vogue bubble ("but it's in Vogue, it must be in vogue!") and saw the reality of the situation. I have no problem with the front of this look (although Mischa Barton should really steer clear of this look altogether). It's modern and clean and oh so cute with a simple singlet or silk blouse. It's the back view that is incredibly disturbing. Even a girl with the ripest, juiciest peach of a bum develops a droopy pear ass in these bad boys. Instead of lifting and firming the bum, the high waisted number elongates it, creating a tiny waist and acres of bum. I like to call it the "deri-pear". And surprise, surprise, none of the girls in the Vogue article were photographed from behind.

Perhaps some visual aids* will help my argument.

18th Amendment jeans - the pioneers of the high waisted jean. Cute from the front. Sleek, dark denim, flattering trouser pockets, nice wide leg.

Train wreck.

Same bum. Same brand. Different styles.

Now I'm not saying don't go and buy yourself a pair, but to pull this look off, your going to need some coverage to cut your bum in half. A kitten soft, mid length, cashmere cardigan, left open to show off a tucked in singlet or blouse will still allow you to show off your teeny waist and endless legs from the front and cover the top of the pear shape at the back to give you back your peach.

Ladies, beware the deri-pear.

* Images courtesy of www.mycatwalk.com.au. Except the badly photoshopped fruit. That one is all mine.