wtffashionshark

Hallo Readers,

Admittedly it is difficult to feel sorry for anyone in 47’s Administration. They were all chosen knowing they would pander and kow-tow to his whims and obvious insanity. And most of them seem to believe his nonsense. But WTF confesses to a degree of sympathy for Ambassador Jamieson Greer, who is purportedly in charge of US trade policy, not that it is a policy. Greer, who has university degrees coming out of his ears, including one from the Sorbonne in Paris, and was a hotshot international trade lawyer before getting this gig, spent Tuesday and Wednesday up on Capitol  Hill trying to explain the rationale, not that there is a rationale, of imposing and persisting with the ludicrous tariffs on anyone and everyone, including our friends the penguins from the Heard and McDonald Islands. Meanwhile, the world’s markets were crashing and people’s pensions and savings were disappearing in a whiff of sulphur. On Wednesday, Greer spent hours telling a congressional committee  that tariffs were necessary to reset global trade (i.e. sending it down the toilet), only to be blindsided by a post on Truth Social in which 47 announced that he would keep tariffs at only 10% for everyone for 90 days, except China, which would now pay 104%. (in fact, it is 145%, but what is 41% between enemies?). At which point, in a magnificent display of “fuck-me-I’ve-had-enough-of this-shit”, Rep Steven Horsford (a Democrat from Nevada) demanded to know what was going on. Had Greer known this was coming but failed to mention it? Or had he just had the rug pulled out from under him? Greer, looking like he had been sandbagged, which indeed he had, muttered something about all options having been on the table. ‘WTF!” shouted Horsford, “this is Amateur Hour!”  It reminded WTF of the halcyon days of the Johnson government with hapless Ministers sent out to defend a policy on the early morning political shows, only to learn that the policy had been jettisoned while listening to the radio in their cars afterwards.  

Lickspittles scuttled out to face incredulous journalists and to maintain that this was all part of The Plan and yet another example of the Art of the Deal. These were of course the same lickspittles who had spent the previous day insisting that 47 would not change course. As had 47 at a fund-raising dinner, when he informed the diners that he knew what the hell he was doing and that countries were “kissing my ass” and calling him “sir”.  But when he himself faced the press on Wednesday evening, he made it clear that he had paused implementation of the higher rates because the bond market had become “yippy”. He then proceeded to take credit for the markets shooting up again, which he described as a beautiful day. This is akin to beating someone over the head with an iron bar, putting the bar down and then taking credit for the fact that the pain had stopped. Except of course the pain has not stopped. Nobody has the faintest idea what is coming next, which does not make for happy trading.  The following principles, however, are clear. First, 47 is a clown who, contrary to his assurances, does not know what the hell he is doing. And second, a strategy, not that it is a strategy, not even at all, of relying on his own previous dishonesty is a rubbish strategy, particularly when we all know that the assertion is in itself dishonest. So cancel your expensive holiday, find a local comprehensive for your kids as those private school fees are now unaffordable, ditch the Tesla, postpone your retirement and buckle down for a very bumpy ride.

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We start our review of the week’s fashion follies in London at the Olivier Awards where we come across actor Idris Elba wearing – something. But what?

Seriously? He looks like the lovechild of the Curse of the Mummy and a slanket.

Also looking preposterous, as per usual, we have actor Billy Porter, currently starring as the Emcee in Cabaret in the West End. Brace yourselves.

Readers paying attention will recall that last week we had not one but two ladies wearing bin bags, one black bin bag and one shit-brown bin bag (with lace accoutrements). This week, we have Billy wearing a bin bag hat in the manner of Signor Baldassare Castiglione, as painted by Raffaello. Plus Billy’s sleeves need a hoick and WTF loathes a pussycat bow almost above all things.

We are now at the Breakthrough Prize Ceremony in Los Angeles, often referred to as the “Oscars of Science,” celebrating groundbreaking achievements in science and maths. The prize money is $15 million and each prize is valued at $3m. So what actor Edgar Ramirez was doing there is a mystery along with the other ragbag of celebs on show.

No one, NO ONE, wears a velvet tux with white trousers. No one. Ever, in the history of ever. And you can see why. He looks like a Butlin Redcoat, the real-life Hi di Hi holiday camp hosts of yesteryear. And his bow tie is wonky, which ought to be a criminal offence. How hard is it to get your stylist or partner to tie your bow tie properly? Or get an elasticated one if you cannot find a stylist or partner.

He’s back! Singer Sam Smith strolling along a London street with a mate.

Sam is a big unit, as our Aussie cousins would say, but this is unflattering. He is wearing a Capt Sparrow headscarf and his boxer shorts over what WTF at first glance took to be  heavily tattooed legs but which, on closer inspection, turn out to be patterned leggings tucked into cowboy boots. Sam had better watch it with those faux-tattoos if he goes to the States or ICE will kidnap him off the streets and send him to that hellhole prison in El Salvador where Kristi Noem will pose in front of him for another photo op.

Oh, and since we are here, this picture of Kristi, formerly Governor of South Dakota and now Head of ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) is an It’s Got To Go all on its own. Heavy makeup caked over a face showing every indication of interference with the workings of nature, featuring the now-mandatory fish lips and apple cheeks (and contrast the skin on her neck). Fake hair that started life on the rear end of a horse. Fake tits. $50,000 gold Rolex Oyster. Dressed like a teenager when she is 53 years old.  This might have been 47’s Vice President had she not buggered up her chances by writing a book confessing how she once shot her dog Cricket  in the face. Go away, you vapid, vain, ghastly, woman.

And now to the Fashion Trust U.S in Los Angeles where the fashionistas all gathered to look at each other in silly clothes, including top stylist Law Roach who apparently is having a big say in designing Zendaya’s wedding dress. Let us pray fervently that he does not choose to put her into something like this horror show.

Blimey. It’s Scarlett O’Hara with half eaten animal fur, probably left over by the ravaging Yankees as they rampaged through Georgia.

More nonsense in the form of actor Lisa Rinna wearing Vetements.

If a Japanese temple were draped in curtain material, this is what it would look like. Where are her arms? And her feet?

Yes, here he is again. WTF speaks of designer Jeremy Scott.

A shorts suit is bad. Really bad. A short-shorts-suit is really, REALLY, bad, especially when worn with leather riding boots. He looks like an equestrian who has forgotten his breeches.

This week’s It’s Got To Go comes from WTF aficionado Dan from Stevenage who complains of the complete failure of people to respect his personal space in queues. You might think that after Covid, it is a given that there would be spaces between punters at the supermarkets, but no. Dan says that there is always someone breathing down his neck – not because they are trying to work out his credit card pin, but because they seem to feel that being nearer to the cashier is evidence of some progress. It is pervasive and it is annoying. It’s Got to Go.

Ok Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Please keep sending in your top suggestions for It’s Got to Go as well as your comments, which WTF much enjoys. You can follow me on @wtffashionshark.bsky.social. Let us meet again next Friday. Be good x