wtffashionshark

 Hallo Readers,

WTF is off for a week next week but don’t despair, your inbox will not be empty next Friday. Instead you will be receiving a WTF Christmas Turkey Special in which you will have your say in choosing the worst of the year by voting in the WTF Christmas Turkey poll, the winner to be announced on 21 December. And believe me, there will be as nasty a collection of clothing as can be imagined. Have a bucket handy.

Talking of being sick, this week her Holiness the Duchess of Cambridge has been throwing her guts up. Alas, she was not the only one. Please do not misunderstand me. WTF is fond of  the young couple and is happy that they are happy. She wishes them and HRH Foetus well. But the announcement of the impending arrival of HRH Foetus has triggered an outpouring of Royal bollocks that has turned the stomach of all who have had the misfortune to watch/read/ listen to it and there is just no escape.   Last week, WTF compared the experience of watching Loose Women to that of dipping your head into a bucket of shit. This week, the gushing, fawning obsequiousness of Royal Watchers various was just like dipping your head into a bucket of shit-flavoured molasses. The moment that there is any Royal news, self-appointed “experts” emerge from the shadows, slithering their way from TV studio to radio studio to newspaper interview and opining on everything from the state of the Royal Womb to the workings of the Royal Mind. This ghastly shower purports to know exactly what Wills thinks about this and what Kate thinks about that and they are not shy about telling you so, pocketing their fat fee as they depart for their next little earner. Like Ko-Ko in The Mikado, I’ve Got a Little List and, as the Chorus goes,

He’s got ’em on the list, he’s got ’em on the list;
And they’ll none of ’em be missed, they’ll none of ’em be missed

There is the former BBC Royal Correspondent, ageing harpy Jennie Bond and the present BBC Royal Correspondent, red-haired but balding  arse-licker Nicholas Witchell, both of whom have not been home since the news broke on Monday afternoon. WTF is not a great fan of Prince Charles, who for the most part appears to be taking up space which could be used for more valuable purposes, but she found herself entirely in sympathy with his loud stage whisper some years ago during a photocall when he said of the aforesaid Witchell, ” I can’t bear that man. I mean, he’s so awful, he really is… I hate these people”. Right on the nail, Sir. Then there is the ghastly coven of authors Jilly Cooper and Penny Junor and some woman from The Mail on Sunday who appears to know so much about the conception that she must have been under the bed at the time. There are the obstetricians who talked us through the ins and outs (as it were) of hyperemesis gravidarum and other aspects of pregnancy. Don’t they have their own patients to treat?  There are the constitutional experts, usually lecturers from some university you’ve never heard of, wittering on about primogeniture and the law of succession.  There is the appalling Liz Jones from the Daily Mail, who took it upon herself to advise Kate what to wear during each stage of the pregnancy, featuring foul clothes modelled by a look-a-likey with a series of ever-larger cushions stuffed up her skirt. And then there are the reporters who blocked the pavement outside the King Edward V11 for Officers and tried to convey the pulsating excitement that was Prince William arriving at the hospital, Prince William leaving the hospital, Prince William coming back to the hospital, Prince William leaving the hospital again… “In more breaking news, Pippa Middleton, the most pointless woman on the planet, has been to visit her sister and brought her a magazine!!!”  By this stage, WTF got so fed up with the whole thing that she rejoiced that London temperatures had dropped to zero and was praying that the whole lot of them would freeze into one big oily icicle, trapped in there forever and boring each other to death like a story from the Brothers Grimm on acid.  And there are 7 more months of this to go….. 

Actually, a few of the following celebrities could go on Ko-Ko’s list, starting with Kim Kardashian, who is in this week for the sheer stupidity of going to Kuwait to launch a milk bar and dressing like a tart. It’s a Muslim country, love.

WTF has no doubt that geopolitics are not Kim’s thing and she probably thinks international relations means some second cousins from Yerevan but you would think that someone would have advised her that emphasising her embonpoint and baring her arms like an extra from Gladiator is a little incendiary, not to mention downright tacky.

And now to a new feature, Stellawatch, in which we track the fortunes of our little designer friend as she travels the globe flogging her wares whilst wearing the worst outfits possible. In recent weeks, we have seen Stella dressed like Andy Pandy and Stella dressed like a scuba diver who has farted in her wetsuit. This week we have Stella dressed like a leopardskin Quasimodo.

It is of course quite possible that Stella has developed severe curvature of the spine from carrying her wallet (this outfit would set you back the best part of £2,200) or maybe there has been another emission of gas, only this time blown upwards and swelling her top. That will teach her to eat all that Linda McCartney veggie stuff. But whatever the reason for it, it is shockingly, shockingly shocking.  WTF is not averse to a touch of animal print, but this is taking matters too far. Stella would be well advised not to venture out into the jungle dressed like this or she will be rogered senseless by wild beasties various. Which would be a sad end for such a committed vegetarian…..

Next we have Kiwi songstress Kimbra wearing Anna Langdon at the Aria Awards in Sydney.

Both Kimbra and Annie appear to have been taking hallucinogenic substances because it is difficult to find any other explanation for this outfit being (a) designed (b) bought and (c) worn. Basically this dress looks like a bird has caught fire whilst Kimbra’s head looks as if it has been photoshopped onto a large overstuffed chair.

We are zipping across the Globe today and now we have landed back in London at the premiere of Les Miserables. This is a film version of the musical which has been on in every country with a theatre for the last 200 years and starring, amongst others, the lovely Amanda Seyfried.

Have you ever seen Les Miserables?  Never was a show so aptly named. By the time you’ve heard a load of starving citoyens and citoyennes warbling about freedom, lost love and having a dream, you’re ready to cut your wrists. WTF Had a Dream too –  she dreamt the show was over and she could go home. Then she woke up and found there was still an hour to go.  And just think about this. No “I Dreamed a Dream”, no Susan Boyle. I mean, it’s a no brainer. Apparently the film is 3 hours long and is sung throughout by actors who, for the most part, cannot sing. Thank you, no. Here we have Amanda wearing a ridiculous frock by Balenciaga and looking like a Flamenco dancer whose frills have been caught in her knickers. It is a pity that she did not go the whole hog and add a fan. She could have used it to smack the stylist.

P Diddy. Now there is a name you probably never thought you would be reading in this post. But I mean, look at him…….

I don’t care if you are the meanest motherfucker in Manhattan, but you cannot look cool in head to toe maroon velour even if accessorised with a medallion the size of a sideplate. You just can’t. This man owns not one but TWO clothing lines and is worth $550m at the last count and this is how he goes about in public? Here are some WTF Golden Rules. Rule 1. No one looks good in maroon. No one. Rule 2. No one looks good in head to toe velour. Rule 3. No man should ever wear velour. Ever. In fact, it should be a criminal offence. As should changing your name to P Diddy when your name is Sean. Or even if it isn’t.

Finally, you just have to see this. Here are the older generations from The Only Way is Essex in the colourful forms of Nanny Pat (centre) and her daughter Carol Wright (left) and Debbie Douglas (right).

As it happens, Nanny Pat, who is 72, looks fine and gets extra marks for her beaming smile. Her daughter looks like Lulu would look if someone had waved a magic wand and turned her into a tangerine. Debbie, on the other hand, looks like Michael Barrymore in drag and a bad wig. Even Alex Reid as Roxanne scrubs up better than this. Debbie seems to have applied her eyeshadow with a trowel, and the black bra under the white toga seems somewhat misjudged, not to mention the orthopaedic shoes. And there is some very shiny hosiery on display…But it does help to explain the way their sons and daughters are attired. After all, the apple does not fall far from the tree.

OK Readers, that’s me done for the week. Get busy with the comments…..