writes about clothes, shoes, hair, make-up, accessories, fashion - anything that's appearance-related, and a good deal else, because appearances are just the beginning.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Making over down under
On Friday evening, E and I settled ourselves in front of the fire with sighs of contentment to watch Trinny and Susannah's Downunder Makeover Mission.
I've never had a high opinion of Australians' sense of style. Sure, there's your usual run of celebs and fashionistas, some of whom get it right some of the times, but on the whole it's a style-free zone over there. And, like S and T, I've noticed two main groups of women (oh, let's not even speak the men): the younger ones, who are got up like streetwalkers, and the older, who dress like the living dead.
S and T strode about the street of Brisbane, pouncing on women from both groups and dragging them away for makeovers. Most seemed pleased, some even shed tears of gratitude. Gazing thoughtfully at one 50 year-old, Trinny suggested with rare tact that there was probably going to come a time when the way this woman was turned out would be inappropriate to her age. I could hear a million viewers shouting, you think?
Where I parted company with S and T was in the end result. Most of the women did look better, but that was largely due to their snappy new hair dos and some decently applied makeup. S and T had put even the short plump women into leggings, which cut their victims off at the ankles and made them look shorter and plumper still. And too many had far too much going on, in the form of big necklaces, scarves and belts and god knows what else.
Still, the women all loved it, more tears were shed, including, I imagine, those of the producers'. When will T and S get onto Aussie men, that's what I want to know?
I'm a writer. Sometimes I write fiction and sometimes I'd rather do something else, like earn money, travel or dance tango. Whatever I do, I never stop looking. So this blog is about looking to write, writing to see, and seeing to think. I was once the kind of feminist who believed it was wrong to delight in such things. Now I'm the kind of feminist who doesn't believe that at all. I will never, as Linda Grant puts it, go beige into that good night.