I am becoming increasingly aware of a fundamental misunderstanding on the behalf of lots of loud-mouthed idiots and bullies. A deliberate misunderstanding designed to make other people feel inadequate, deceived and weak.   This misunderstanding is of one simple, four letter word: nice.   The meaning of nice has been taken over, twisted and manipulated into a negative. Nice is now a weakness. I find it hard to associate the word with anything other than a snide mocking tone and an attempted insult.   This isn’t the first time I’ve observed this worrying trend. I wrote about it a couple of years back, when fashion was going through a distinctly fugly and edgy phase. I got sick of seeing the phrase “subverted sweetness” in fashion magazines. I wanted to scream “LET THE SWEETNESS BE!!!!”.   A self-help book* called Nice Girls Just Don’t Get It by Lois Frankel and Carol Frohlinger has prompted this current rage. The advice given in the book isn’t bad. In fact a lot of it is practical and helpful, especially around assertiveness and confidence building. My issue stems from the author’s assumption that nice is bad.   Lacking confidence is bad, being a walkover is bad, making yourself miserable to please others is bad. Last time I checked, these traits have very little to do with being nice.   Nice is charm, nice is politeness, nice is making a room a better place by simply being in it. Nice doesn’t mean avoiding conflict, but it does mean not actively seeking it for kicks. Oh, and nice isn’t just for girls. Women, men and boys can be nice too.   Nice people don’t have to finish last. It is all another line of mythological bullshit from the bullies to hold us back and weaken us. Being[.....]

  Have you ever done that thing when you make a cup of tea and leave the tea bag in for too long? The result is a bitter and disappointing beverage that leaves a nasty taste in your mouth.   That is how I’m feeling about film and TV execs. refusal to leave Sex and the City alone. The original show was good, much like tea. The first film was a tad too much – a bit like when you over-enthusiastically squish the tea bag with a spoon. The second film was over steeped and over squished, with a hefty teaspoon of cringe inducing racial stereotyping and the unforgiveable “Lawrence of my labia” line.   News that US TV network, The CW has green lit a pilot of a Sex and the City prequel series, based on Candace Bushnell’s The Carrie Diaries, is making it tricky for me to extend this simile without introducing excrement to this already overwrought cup of tea.   Rumour has it that Josh Schwartz and Stephanie Savage will produce the show. Now, I love these guys; they gave the world Seth Cohen. The OC is my ultimate DVD box set indulgence. They produced Gossip Girl too, which is essentially The OC relocated to New York. They excel at telling far-fetched stories of beautiful, spoilt and one-dimensional young people. They also excel at recycling ridiculous story lines. With The CW as the network and this powerhouse producing pair at the helm, there is no doubt that The Carrie Diaries will be glossy, groomed and full of supposed teenagers talking like grown-ups. There will be stories of mistaken identity, masquerade balls and a sensitive “outsider” love interest for young Carrie.   I’m just not sure what a Schwartz/Savage back story will add to the Sex and the[.....]

  Something has occurred to me lately, prompting me to write this post. I recently saw the trailer for the documentary Miss Representation and it has had a BIG impact on me. Directed by Jennifer Siebel Newsom, the film highlights the shocking lack of realistic representation of women in media and the equally troubling lack of visible powerful women.     The film has made me look at adverts and TV shows more closely, read magazines with a sharper eye, pick apart the weird dynamic between male and female presenters, look at films and their characters in a new light; and you know what? Women are getting a shit deal. We are either “totty”, “eye candy”, “a loveable kook”, “bitch”, “cute”, “fashionista”, “shopaholic” or “an angry feminist”…   …we are one dimensional . Here’s the thing – I’m all of the above at one point or another, plus a hell of a lot more.   Women and girls need to be represented in all of their unpredictable complexity. I don’t want 1000s of smart talking Junos, I don’t want every female character to be “feisty” and “strong”, I don’t want female newsreaders that never giggle at their cohost’s terrible joke. Diversity is what is needed, women that let girls know that, sometimes, being unsure or shy or sweet or confused is all OK. As is being smart, feisty, strong and sexy. We don’t have to conform to one single ideal!   What has this got to do with me writing? As a writer I’ve struggled to find my place. I don’t fit into any boxes, mainly because I don’t want to be put in one. I struggle with “labels”, especially with the big one beginning with “f” that regularly gets placed on female writers and academics. I often wander by[.....]

    I am well aware that in writing this post I am contributing to the very thing that I am criticising. I’m talking about opinions, more specifically why I dislike how the internet has made having one all important.   I have my opinions. Some I have grown up with, others I have developed as an adult and others shift and shape with experience and events. I’m not hugely strident with my opinions. I hate other people ramming their opinions down my throat so why should I do the same? Each to their own. I don’t know that my opinions are right, they are simply my best attempt to make sense of the world around me.   To borrow a phrase from some smooth Channel Four mee-dee-ahh type, my opinions aren’t “crunchy”.  A less flattering way to put it would be “on the fence”.   Let me explain why: in 2001, a college lecturer gave me some words that may be the best (or worst) gift I have ever received:   “Nothing is so black and white that there aren’t shades of grey.”   Ever since, I have decided to try and see everything from all sides. It isn’t easy, in fact it is bloody hard work. It requires thinking; sometimes out loud to my bemused husband or sometimes to myself as I gaze out of a window.   Whilst on holiday, I read a quote that made me think back to my old teacher’s phrase:   “Nothing is so firmly believed as that which least is known”   The quote came from the Renaissance philosopher Michel de Montaigne and I found it in the Cadogan Guide to Dordogne and the Lot, in between a thrilling chapter on foie gras production and a list of fine Bordeaux vintages.  [.....]

  Top: Topshop Pleated miniskirt: Pimkie Yellow tights: Topshop Cardigan: H&M Bag: My Nan   This look was pulled together out of laziness and convenience (that’s how fashion I am). One of those, “I’m too busy to pick an outfit, so I’ll buy a new one instead’ looks. Actually, only the top and tights were new. The skirt was bought in France from shop called Pimkie, it is like a cross between Miss Selfridge and Peacocks, so not exactly haute couture.   The French high street is interesting, there doesn’t seem to be a middle ground. You either get cheap and cheerful “fun fashion” (that can also be a bit tacky) or very conservative and bland stuff. There was some gorgeous stuff in the department stores, especially by labels like Carven and Sandro but it was priced accordingly. There are probably some astute cultural observations that could be drawn from this, but I’ll save that for another day.   I wore this for a night at Atta Girl celebrating my friend Jimmy’s birthday. We did the usual dancing, drinking and eating chinese food at a ridiculous hour. Atta Girl was incredibly good – I particularly enjoyed dancing to TLC’s “No Scrubs” and  Hole’s “Violet”. The place was packed and the atmosphere was friendly, fun and feminist. I loathe how “fun feminism” has become a derogatory term used in certain quarters. Why the bloody hell can’t it be fun? You don’t suddenly wake up one day and decide “Oooohhh, I fancy some fun today, shall I go to Alton Towers or become a feminist?”.     The rubbish “summer” weather has made me reassess my views on opaque tights. If it is freezing and cloudy and a cardigan is required, then 80 denier is perfectly acceptable. I love the combination of[.....]

As today is the London Slutwalk*, I thought that I’d take the opportunity to go put some of my thoughts out there about women, dress and feminism. This is inspired, in part, by some interesting remarks made by former Le Tigre vocalist, writer and women’s activist Kathleen Hanna regarding Lady Gaga, Katy Perry and Ke$ha. Hanna isn’t impressed with the trouser shunning activities of the current crop of female popstars. Stating how it somewhat undermines their rhetoric of gay empowerment, Hanna said: “I mean, is it really that different when it’s a skinny white woman in a bathing suit singing these things? None of these women ever wear pants, first of all.” For so long it has been the norm to unquestioningly regard these performers as icons of empowered sexuality and subversion. Mainly because they wear risqué outfits. Just as wearing leather hotpants and thigh-high boots is not an invitation to rape, wearing such a combination is not a feminist statement. These popstars are hyper-sexualised. There are just as many guys and girls who get off on Gaga’s PVC leotards as there are folks who are shocked and terrified by them. Their careers are not based merely on their musical talent; they’ve sold their bodies as much as their songs. That’s fine, I’m sure they are all pretty smart and know exactly what they are doing. We just need to stop kidding ourselves into thinking Gaga is all about empowering her army of “little monsters”. By the same token, Katy Perry squirting whipped cream from her boobs is nothing more than Katy Perry squirting whipped cream from her boobs. I agree with Hanna: take away the try-hard image machine and we are left with little more than dodgy Euro-disco. Let’s not confuse flamboyant and risqué stage costumes with transgression or[.....]

I’ve not published an essay for a while – mainly because I haven’t written one for a while. I got my marks back this week for last semester. I did alright, but not as well as I’d hoped. I can try to justify it with excuses such as “well, it isn’t easy starting a business, holding down a 9-5 and studying for an MA”, but I know that I’m fooling myself. I got sloppy and decided to write about stuff that I found fun as opposed to stuff that had any real academic merit. Note to self: blog = self-indulgent stuff, MA = controlled, considered and well researched stuff that isn’t quite as much fun. Anyway, this essay was a blast to write and I hope you enjoy reading it. It isn’t big, it isn’t that clever (I’ve got the “C ” to prove it) but it is mildly diverting and kind of amusing. BBxx Jack Wills the “heritage” brand: refashioning the past? Heritage brands are those that attempt to make the consumer “feel as passionate about the heritage as about the future” (Tungate, 2004, p157). In fashion, “heritage” has typically been the preserve of “traditional English companies”, including “Burberry, Mulberry, DAKS, Aquascutum, Austin Reed, and Jaeger.” (McDermott, 2002, p85). These are brands that were once synonymous with a certain middle-English stuffiness, they reinvented themselves with a “combination of heritage and hipness…intended to appeal to a more youthful market” (ibid). These brands often have 100 year plus histories, many starting from humble beginnings. Heritage is powerful, it is the “single characteristic and attribute of a brand that provides sustainable competitive advantage” (Benson, 2007). It establishes trust – encouraging a customer to feel as if they are buying a quality product. Yet it goes deeper, customers are buying little piece of[.....]