So here we go. Come Monday and the key will turn a little more in the lock which has purportedly kept us all indoors since November 2020. We can freeze our bits off in the garden with five friends, as opposed to freezing our bits off on park benches, our hands tightly wrapped around a Costa Coffee. We can go shopping, that is if any shops are still open and have not gone bankrupt. We can eat in restaurants al fresco, that is if any restaurants are still open and have not gone bankrupt. We can go to the gym, get our hair cut (and, more importantly, coloured), and take driving lessons. The English and Welsh can cross each other’s borders. And thirty people can gather at a funeral. Let joy be unconfined.
If we are all well behaved, come no earlier than 17 May, we can gather in groups of thirty people outdoors and up to six people indoors, go to the pub, eat indoors, take Zumba classes, and have thirty people at a wedding. Oh, and we can go on holiday abroad! That is, if you don’t mind standing in a four- hour queue at the departure airport, sitting for hours on a plane and then standing for another four hours at the arrival airport, masked the whole time, while drunken yobbos run amok and treat appalled onlookers to helicoptering and fist fights and children throw up everywhere and scream the place down.
Why? Why the hell would you want to go abroad such circumstances? You would be a nervous wreck before you got to your hotel and a nervous wreck throughout the trip at the prospect of having to go through it all over again on the way back. The whole thing will cost you a fortune and you will probably bring back some exotic and hitherto-undiscovered mutation of the virus thereby infecting your family, your friends, your colleagues, and any other bugger unlucky to come within two metres of you. Just so you can get a suntan and some duty-free vodka.
But then throughout this pandemic people have been selfish and thoughtless. They have gathered in groups indoors, had or attended parties, and not worn masks – usually the same people who have complained about the ongoing ignominy of being deprived of their liberty. Many of these are doubtless also the same people who will refuse to be vaccinated because (i) Bill Gates wants to inject you with a microchip (ii) any combination of Bill Gates, Dr Fauci, and George Soros want to get rich at your expense (iii) they don’t need a jab because they are healthy and/or take vitamins and/or it’s all a hoax and/or more people have suffered from depression than died of Covid and (iv) it’s not safe, innit, as if Covid is so good for you. When these people get ill, they will be the first ones demanding treatment from an over-pressed, under-resourced NHS, but before that they will continue to do whatever they want, whenever they want it, and to hell with the consequences. So expect another spike. And perhaps a fourth lockdown. And enjoy your freedom while it lasts.
We start our review of the week’s sartorial shockers at the Makeup Artists and Hair Stylists Guild Awards 2021 and its co-presenter, actress Sibley Scoles wearing Yves St Laurent.
Sibley has fabulous legs, but that does not entitle her to turn up in public like the lovechild of the late and legendary bandleader Edmundo Ros and a French maid’s pubic pinafore. And where is her right hand?
Next up, we have rapper Doja Cat, wearing Dolce & Gabbana.
The coat is good, albeit the arms seems to have cut for an orangutang, but as Readers will know, WTF deplores a transparent trouser almost above all things, and almost as much as she loathes a Tabi boot. If a white camel went to a fancy dress party as Mother of the Bride, this is what what it would look like.
Our next stop is at the virtual Screen Actors’ Guild Awards, where we come across Daniel Kaluuya, (winner of Best Sporting Actor for Jesus and the Black Messiah) wearing Louis Vuitton.
Yes, he is handsome and yes, he was excellent in the movie, but WTF must speak frankly. These look like pyjamas and a dressing gown because they ARE pyjamas and a dressing gown. Think Cary Grant in hobnail boots. And then weep……
Next we have actress Merle Dandridge (nominated for Flight Attendant) wearing Georges Chakra.
Sadly, the lovely Merle is putting the sag into SAG as her sparkling bodice resembles a pair of low-slung rabbit ears.
Here is someone we have not seen for a while – Jared Leto, wearing Gucci.
The suit is rather charming in that ridiculous 1970s sort of way, but the voile shirt, necktie and shiny shell clutch prove what everyone always suspected, that Jared just wants to be Prince Stefan in the Rapunzel fairy tale.
We now welcome a newcomer to these pages, Florence Hunt (Bridgerton), wearing Chanel. CHANEL!!!!! Ye Gods…..
No, sorry, WTF is not having it. This is not Chanel, but more of a cheap knock-off version of the Italian National football kit.
This is Emma Corrin (nominated for The Crown), wearing Prada.
For reasons best known to herself, Emma turned up for the event dressed as Emmeline Pankhurst in half-petticoat and builders’ boots.
And finally, another newcomer to this blog, Sam McCarthy, (nominated for Dead To Me) wearing Kenzo.
In this attire, Sam is definitely Dead to WTF. This is not a suit. This is an oversized beanbag worn with white clogs. You could get the whole cast of Dead to Me down one trouser leg.
This week’s It’s Got to Go comes from WTF aficionado WTF of Islington, who has had enough of footballer Gareth Bale’s turd topknot.
I mean, look at him. He looks utterly ridiculous, and not just because he plays for Spurs. He looked ridiculous when he played for Real Madrid as well. WTF deplores a turd topknot on men and women alike, but Gareth manages to look particularly bedraggled…
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Let us meet again next Friday. And keep those splendid suggestions coming in for It’s Got To Go, not to mention your comments. Be good x.