wtffashionshark

Hallo Readers,

After last week’s post featuring a variety of minge-baring ghastliness, WTF’s good friend Rebecca Jay (blame her for all this, she was the one who pushed me into writing this blog) posted a comment pointing out that as someone who had been in the feminist movement in the 70’s and 80’s, she found it appalling that “…the number of minge moments, arse and high thigh alarms…is on an inexorable increase. What did we fight for only to return to this sort of image that these women feel they need to portray?” Another good friend of WTF’s, Jan Lewis, said ” I feel very sad when I see young women in what passes for shoes nowadays : it looks to me like a return to foot binding as they hobble along”. As Carrie Bradshaw would say, WTF started thinking about women’s ridiculous enslavement to fashion and their mind-set that vulgarity equals style. Foot binding is a good analogy. For centuries, Chinese women had their feet bound to stop them growing more than 7 cm long. Toes would be bent over and broken with women left unable to walk properly. Chinese men liked women’s feet to be all teeny and weeny and dainty and this mutilation, for that is what it was, persisted until the 1940’s. Watch The Inn of the Sixth Happiness  where Ingrid Bergman was somewhat improbably cast as British missionary Gladys Aylward, out in rural China in the 1930’s and attempting to stop footbinding at the instigation of an even more improbably cast Robert Donat.  Footbinding was the ancient equivalent of attaching plastic tits to your body and filling your face full of fuck knows what to iron out your wrinkles. Not to mention starving yourself for a tiny little body so that  your clothes hang properly and your plastic tits look bigger.

Today women are free to vote, to pursue a career, to do what they want and to wear what they want, thanks to the efforts of Emily Davison, who died  100 years ago this week, the Pankhursts and the others who fought for emancipation, equality and the right to be more than an adornment and a possession, yet idiots like the ones featured in wtffashionshark choose to parade their breasts, thighs and lady areas in public whilst wobbling on vertiginous heels like a pissed dervish. They do it because it is fashion, because they think it will get them in the news and keep them in the news or sell their latest film or their latest record or even because, poor deluded souls, they actually think that it makes them look good. Women have been brainwashed into thinking they want to wear this tawdry shit, bombarded by a conspiracy of designers, magazines, the fashion editors of the newspapers, the stylists and the people who turn your skin orange with lotions and potions. Please stop. WTF would have to find another hobby but women would regain their dignity and their independence of mind – the very thing our predecessors fought for, and in Emily Davison’s case, died for. There is something very dubious about selling yourself  as a Celebritee by flashing the flesh and even more dubious invoking the images of child porn to do so.  Let women succeed because of what they can do not because of what they are nearly wearing….

Some of the women this week have talent in abundance and others have only their orange bits to rely upon. Either way, they look awful. Let us kick off with Jessica Wright off TOWIE with beau Ricky Rayment en route to a cast party in Marbs (that is Marbella to the uninitiated). Ricky is the owner of Bar Blanco, described on its website as “one of Essex’s most premier wine bars” whilst Jessica owns what is probably one of Essex’s “most premier” lingerie shops.

As this was not a fancy dress party there must have been some other reason for Jessica resembling a cross between Princess Sita and a lap-dancer.

Sita, wife of Lord Rama, would not have been flashing her thighs or tottering around with a couple of baskets on her feet and WTF strongly suspects that she had her own hair, tits and teeth. Ricky is no Lord Rama and is a complete knob but you don’t see him hobbling around in silly shoes with his bits on display. Next!

Here is a Kardashian, not Kim but her sister Kourtney Kardashian wearing ASOS at her boyfriend’s birthday at the Bellagio.

In this case, ASOS seems to be an acronym for Absent Sense Or Style with Kourtney dressed in a wholly unflattering bustier with lace overlay and a sort of skirt composed of feathers and showing lots of permatanned limb. She is like some mythical beast from Greek legend, half bimbo, half bird and a total waste of space. Next!

This is what singer Eliza Doolittle wore to the Esquire Summer Party.

Sigh. Next!

Now we are off to Cannes where we come across the lovely and talented Marion Cotillard wearing Alexander McQueen.

Now I hasten to add that Marion doesn’t look slaggy and is positively swathed in fabric. The problem here is that she looks silly. The pattern is reminiscent of a Chinoiserie vase and she looks for all the world like Aladdin. Most disturbing however is that ugly gaping line running from top to crotch  like some couture surgical scar. WTF does not remember the bit where Aladdin is eviscerated. Maybe this is the Quentin Tarantino version. Next!

Now this is just deeply mad. Meet actress Laetitia Casta wearing Christian Dior.

The dress itself is as hideous as can be imagined with its sheer peekaboo panels adorned with little daisies and the compulsory imminent minge moment but Laetitia obviously thought that she needed some further embellishment, leading her to walk the Red Carpet in feathered wings like a golden Icarus. Remember what happened to Icarus, sweetie. He came crashing down to earth, rather like you could have done in those garish gold Louboutins.  The words fashion disaster have insufficient nuance to sum  this one up. Next!

What follows is the worst thing I have ever seen in my life. If you are of a nervous disposition, please log off now and come back next week because you are about to see something which only a practising obstetrician should ever have to see. Also if you are eating, put down your cutlery. This is actress Emmanuelle Seigner not quite wearing Alexandre Vauthier. The homunculus next to her is her husband Roman Polanski who, at 79, is 33 years her senior and looks like Dustin Hoffman’s granddad.

All together now…….AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This post has brought you imminent minge moments and pussy pelmets and groin garlands but this is revolting. WTF is not quite sure what is protruding from the red knickers but whatever it is, it should not be on view. How can this be? What was she thinking?  What was Alexandre Vauthier thinking? This dress is an outrage. WTF has featured Alexandre’s creations before, once on Rita Ora and once on serial offender and bits-flasher Heidi Klum and both outfits were foul but this is just unspeakable. And in case you are thinking that WTF is picking on her unfairly, it is only right to point out that if you choose to wear a dress with your chest on show and red knickers matching your split-crotch skirt, then you have only yourself to blame. Just saying…

In the light of all that, the major tit tape catastrophe is small beer….

After seeing Emmanuelle, WTF needs a beer, and not a small one. That’s your lot for this week, Readers, and you are probably glad of it. Let us meet again next Friday. In the meanwhile, keep those comments coming…