My contempt for that large percentage of the female population who would go out wearing a sack of dogshit tied round their waist if some skull-faced bitch in Cosmopolitan told them to - and would then ponce round looking down their snotty noses at anyone ‘uncool’ enough not to be similarly attired - knows almost no bounds. Every year there’s some new ‘must have’ look which legions of vacuum-headed girls dutifully adopt because they’ve been told they have to. Such fundamental questions as ‘Does this actually look nice?’ or ‘Does this look actually suit me?’ are swept aside in the headlong rush towards trendy conformity.
Remember that ten minutes when bobs were de rigeur and up and down the land ten million fat round-faced girls hacked off their hair to comply and ended up with their heads looking like a beachball with half a coconut balanced on top? Then there was the tiny glasses mandate; ‘You know that pair of specs you paid £300 for last year? - well they’re too big, you unfashionable cunt! Get yourself some tiny wee rimless ones at once!’ and once more the earth trembled as the willing victims stampeded towards Specsavers, waving wads of cash.
Of course, those spectacles barely had time to settle upon the wearers’ noses, before a new directive was issued; ‘What the fuck are you wearing those small rimless glasses for, you arseholes?’ thundered the fashion mags ‘Get yourselves some square lensed ones with really thick rims this minute!’ - and bank accounts were once more dutifully emptied into the wallets of laughing fashion designers and arbiters of style.
I’m completely convinced that the whole pantomime is a private joke, concocted between the designers and the magazine editors. ‘I bet we could make the dumb bitches paint their legs orange and wear wellingtons!’ one wag will snigger and, before you know it, the air is filled with the acrid stench of steaming feet, rotting in pink spotted rubber boots on a hot summer’s day.
But the world of style moves ever onward. that was then and this is now. Any dozy cow foolish enough to be seen out in a pair of wellingtons this season will rightly be mocked to Hell and back by those ‘Kewl Chicks’ with their finger on the pulse who know that - at least for the next ten minutes - you ain’t nothing unless you’ve wrapped your tootsies in a pair of Uggs; suede fur-lined boots so repulsively frumpy and shapeless that they make you look like you’ve had your legs amputated at the knee and replaced with the ankles and feet of a particularly obese elephant. Seriously, they make those ones with the zip up the front that oul’ biddies wear seem positively sexy in comparison.
I shouldnae fret tho’ - this time next week ten million pairs of Uggs will be lying forgotten in the back of ten million wardrobes while the nation’s females frantically strap themselves into luminous platform-soled Clown Shoes - or whatever the next fashion industry piss-take is!