On Monday, thousands of pre-pubescent girls and their parents were left hanging about the O2 Centre for 2 hours because Justin Bieber was late for his own concert. Who knows why? Was he playing a video game? Was he locked in the loo? Was he trying to find his arse with a map and two hands? As the clock ticked away and 10 pm came and went, many mothers decided that given this was a schoolnight they would have to take their daughters home to bed, which, as you can well imagine, gave rise to the greatest outbreak of mass wailing since the orchestrated mourning for the late Kim Jong Il.
Many other parent and child combos had to rush off before the end in order to catch the last tube and those who stayed on until nearly midnight had to take overpriced black cabs back into town. The demographic of Justin’s audience are pre teenaged and teenaged girls. They are still at school. They won’t be going out clubbing afterwards, so turning up 2 hours late is just piss poor. This little wiener has broken the hearts of thousands of small girls and dented the wallets of their long suffering parents who forked out £70-£133 a ticket (plus light refreshments, soft drinks, Justin paraphernalia, programmes etc.) and the stocks are too good for him. Worse still, he dresses like a twat. Here is the proof. Please note that he is wearing TWO gold watches. Oh the irony.
Justin has always been a fan of a dropped crotch trouser, but this crotch is so low that it resembles a cross between a dhoti and a giant nappy and, as various @WTF_EEK tweeters have remarked, the nappy seems to be very well filled. The rear view is worse…
Were Justin to head butt anyone in that preposterous spiked fireman’s helmet, the victim would be left with more perforations than a colander. Way more dangerous than Justin, however, are the armies of “Beliebers”, his 35 million devoted Twitter followers whose ardour for this little squirt knows no bounds. One word of criticism on Twitter and they will hunt you down like a gymslip Spanish inquisition. That is 35 million idiots who have been brainwashed and bewitched into thinking that this homoculoid, whose every move is choreographed, who is groomed to within an inch of his life and who looks like a prize tool, is some sort of walking god. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, this is the power of the internet and global marketing made flesh. Someone who dresses as a schoolboy despite being 19 years old, a sort of Canadian version of little Jimmy Krankie, is a world-wide superstar. Read and weep.
And now to Paris Fashion Week and WTF’s new obsession, Russian Fashionista Supreme Miroslava Duma.
Miloslava has some fantastic clothes but everything about this outfit is barking, in particular the little silver and turquoise sputniks on the collar of the orange and black short-sleeved coat with its matching pillow and the unwearably high heels. But what makes the thing so special is the ridiculous military hat. WTF’s late dad, reminiscing about his army days, would refer to this is a c**t hat, and he wasn’t wrong.
Ah, we just have to have Marc Jacobs. Here he is in his jim jams at Miu Miu A/W 2013.
It is widely known that Marc does not always dress conventionally – his black lace dress over white boxers at the 2012 Met Ball lives long in the memory. But it is not widely known that Marc suffers from somnambulism and attended his own Louis Vuitton A/W 2013 show and then, slipping on a coat, Miu Miu A/W 2013, both whilst fast asleep. And sandals? In March? Pajamas are not outdoor wear. End of.
Another Russian, model and billionaire’s wife Elena Perminova wearing Tommy Hilfiger with Versace boots.
This hideous get-up is what Sherlock Holmes might have worn had he been solving a case out in Siberia and fancied flashing his knees. As for the boots, showing Elena’s chicken legs to disadvantage, there are no words, or none printable.
Here’s a rave from the grave in the redoubtable shape of Cher, 66, wearing Balmain A/W 2013 trewsies at Balmain A/W 2013.
Cher is a great fan of plastic surgery, and has seen the inside of more operating theatres than the entire cast of Holby City. As she famously remarked in 2002, “If I want to put tits on my back, it’s nobody’s business but my own”. Fair enough. But there is no excuse for going about dressed as a chef in a daft hat.
And now to our old friend Anna dello Russo strutting her stuff in Fendi A/W 2013 at Dior A/W 2013 (which actually is quite rude).
Northern Europe has certainly been nippy of late but Anna’s technicolour yeti-chic is a trifle over the top. Mind you, this is a very threadbare yeti, a yeti quite on its uppers, the sort of yeti that earnest-sounding voices might come on the TV for in an advert break during some 999th afternoon repeat of Quincy MD and urge you to donate your hard earned cash to save. Anna’s coat looks much more bedraggled than the Catwalk version, prompting the thought that some outraged Parisienne had emptied a bucket of water over her en route. At least, one hopes that it was water.
At first sight, these trousers just seemed odd and horrible, like one of those dainty little aprons your mum used to wear when serving tea to guests. On closer inspection, however, it becomes apparent that the trousers are in fact sheer from waist to thigh. It is what is going on underneath the sheer that is so weird. No visible minge. Instead, black panties. A white shirt. And then there is the gold embroidery underneath the panel.
WTF has only one question.
Actually, here is another one. What the fuck is going on?
Over our time together, we have examined many minge-baring ensembles, usually designed by the vile Anthony Vaccarello or worn by slappers off TV reality shows. WTF is dead against minge-baring outfits but at least she can see the point of wearing them, namely to bare your minge. What she has trouble understanding is why you would wear see-through trousers and then conceal your minge in black shorties and the hem of a white shirt. I mean, either go the whole hog or just don’t bother. Preferably the latter.
Kate Moss, what the hell are you almost wearing?
Technically the answer is a sheer sparkling bodysuit by YSL. On the Catwalk, the bodysuit condom thingy was actually worn under a leather skirt so that it covered the unmentionables. Here Kate is wearing it to Carine Roitfeld‘s cocktail party (dress code – black only) under a YSL black “smoking” from the men’s collection, but it is not long enough to cover her bum.
She may be a super-model but no one looks good with their arse hanging out. Fact. The boots are rubbish as well and going out without makeup was not a good idea as she looks ghostly as well as ghastly. The whole thing is just very, very bad. WTF can only assume that all the drugs and booze from Kate’s naughty past have addled her brain to such an extent that she forgot to put on her skirt.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Don’t forget to keep those comments coming, and we shall meet again next Friday.