So how excited are you about the coronation on Saturday? Are you busily baking your coronation quiche? (Query – if it is vegetarian, why has it got bloody lard in it? What is the point of being King of all the faiths and putting the Chief Rabbi up for the night because he would not otherwise be able to attend the ceremony, and then antagonise Jews, Muslims and vegetarians? Baffled). Or do you not give a stuff and regard it as a shocking waste of money at a time when people are more worried about their bills? The answer is probably a bit of both. You have to be well over 70 to remember the last Coronation, so clearly this one is a piece of living history. And although virtually nothing works in this country, we are really, really good at pageantry. Our armed forces are so depleted and cash starved that they probably could not knock the skin off a rice pudding, but when it comes to marching up and down in highly polished boots with a dead bear on their heads, they can beat the shit out of anyone. Westminster Abbey is stunning, and there will be music to die for, not to mention the prospect of having a good laugh at some very bad hats and – Heaven forfend – fascinators. Plus the joy of knowing that all those Diana fanatics will be seething as Queen Camilla dons the Crown.
But deep down WTF suspects that the majority of people will watch because it is an event, rather like the Eurovision Song Contest or the World Cup final, rather than as an expression of genuine love and respect for the Royal Family and the monarchy. Charles has been knocking around for so long waiting for the call that the fact he has now ascended the Throne seems almost an anti-climax. He is in his mid 70s, as is his wife. Unlike the Coronation in 1953, when a beautiful young woman succeeded her father in a grey post-war country, this is all a bit senior citizens play dress up. The nation may be fond of Charles and respect his commitment to good causes, but does it really love him? Or does it feel in 2023 that to address anyone, let alone these two, as Your Majesties, is an absurdity. The age of deference has long faded away succeeded by disillusion and disappointment. You get the job because you are born to it and the rest of the family either supports you or makes a spectacle of itself, whether it be hobnobbing with paedophiles or living out some ghastly soap opera, boring everyone to death with their psychobabble and long held, much vented, resentments.
So tomorrow WTF will crack open the champagne and feast upon her home- baked, non-lardy quiche, keep up a running critique on the fashion and enjoy the show whilst thinking, deep down, that accidents of birth should not confer majesty on anyone.
Our review of the week’s sartorial silliness comes from the Met Gala which happened last Monday and provided the usual abundance of nonsense. The theme this year was to honour the late Nosferatu lookalikey Karl Lagerfield, king of Chanel. We start with actor Pedro Pascal wearing Valentino.
Pedro is a good looking man but even he has a problem carrying off a fabulous red coat and matching shirt in under-crackers and army boots, like a martinet called to the battlefield at very short notice.
Next up is actor Rachel Brosnahan, in for a third week running. She must be grateful that this is the last series of The Marvelous Mrs Maisel or she would be in every week. She is wearing Sergio Hudson.
WTF hates a nipple pasty almost above all things, and these look like black dahlias as seen in a Rohrbach test. Just plain nasty. Let us hope Rachel did not have to reach for anything during the evening or those pasties would have gone walkies, leading to visible nipple activity.
This is fashionista Alexa Chung wearing Róisín Pierce.
This manages to be simultaneously frumpy and fussy, not to mention the imminent Minge Moment. It could be one of the winning entrants in the annual challenge to make a wedding dress out of loo rolls…
No Met Gala would be complete without actor Jared Leto looking ridiculous. This year he excelled himself by coming dressed as Karl’s treasured moggy, Choupette (to whom/which he bequeathed £1.3m).
Catherine looks fine. Baz looks like a cross between a keyboard and the Child Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang in shrunken trewsies. Meanwhile, one is obliged to observe, looking at Baz’s visage, that there has been some interference with the workings of nature.
Next up we have actor Janelle Monáe wearing Thom Browne.
It starts silly. Then it gets sillier.
If a conical strainer wore a bikini and football boots, this is what it would look like.
Singer Lil Naz X looked truly remarkable wearing (??) Dior Homme.
On the face of it, Dior Homme did not have much to do except perhaps get in some extra fabric for the jockstrap and some spray paint. Stand by the mandatory arse cheeks. Although at least they are male rather than female ones for a change. And then clock the boots. He looks like a Minotaur without the tail.
Finally, meet model Alton Mason wearing ….something. Brace yourselves….
Readers, we may be looking at the winner of the WTF Summer Stinker 2023 because this is one of the most preposterous things WTF has seen in quite a while. What does it not have? A ruff. Padded shoulders. Not so much a tit window as tit arches. And a baby’s christening gown. If D’Artagnan went to a fancy dress party as an Elizabethan bride, this is what he would look like.
This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado Anna from South London who has sent in more vile tat by Schein, or Scheit as WTF prefers to call them. Get ready…
These are marketed as ‘low rise booty shorts’ and they are about as bad as bad can be. Talk about Call for the Canisten. Anna asks ‘I mean, what even are these? If they’re meant to be knickers, surely they will cause nasty chafing? And the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about’. She is entirely correct. It’s Got To Go.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Please keep sending in your suggestions for It’s Got To Go and your top comments, which WTF likes more than anything. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good .