3 years ago
Showing posts with label Boy's stuff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Boy's stuff. Show all posts
Monday, 17 September 2012
Get Over It
OK, so I might have fallen at the first hurdle in my desire to dress like a boy. I found these two delicious Crombie style overcoats (All Saints above, Comptoir below) and larks a lordy do they not work with my body type. Not one bit of it. The All Saints number was slightly better because it is more fitted, but the Comptoir was a disaster, as much as I wanted it to work. I think I will have to admit defeat with this one and bow down to the reality that my shape needs way more fitting in at the waist otherwise I just look the size of a house. Boo.
Tuesday, 7 April 2009
Viva la Revolución!

I know. You would be in heaven!
Then I made the mistake of letting people in the office know how I feel about the shoe and a revolution has started. They have risen up as one and defended their right to a slip on. Gah! So in a spirit of work based harmony, democracy and freedom of speech I have agreed to add an addendum to my earlier post. And while I will never look kindly on a loafer or anyone while they are wearing one I will admit that if you are a gentlemen what jetsets then airport security and the on again off again demands that are placed upon your footwear might justify (shudder!) a non-laced shoe.
Drink it right on in because that is the only good word I will ever have for them. And that's a promise.
Wednesday, 25 March 2009
Oh Mickey, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind!

He might not still look menacing and arousing on a motorbike or in some dive bar anymore (although he probably still attempts it, let's face it) but his rebellious side is coming out by subverting the sartorial norm of the Hollywood A list, which, let's face it, is just boring, boring, boring. Oops! Did I just say let's face it twice? In one sentence? I am obviously thinking of one poor sad thing. (Sob!)
Bring it on! I say. And if one day you wake up and in some sort of Freaky Friday type escapade had turned into a man I would champion the look on you. You know, though, I can't help but wish he was ever so slightly prettier now...
Wednesday, 11 March 2009
Give them the slip

I would like to start by telling you a story. Once upon a time a group of reasonably rowdy girls were joined by a couple of diminutively shod young men for the apparent purpose of drinking a bar dry and talking dirty for the evening. At one point during the ensuing hijinks one of the aforementioned (and ever so slightly flirtatious) gentlemen saw fit to display his footwear to the assembled hoards. And lo and behold it was a slip on shoe!! I hope the italics suitably communicate the horror that this sight instilled in me. I was so shocked I was almost lost for words. After all he had heretofore seemed like a perfectly reasonable individual. How was I to know what was lurking under the table?
As well you might imagine it did not take long for me to assemble my thoughts, find my voice and spew forth about how hideous I found said item, without a thought to the poor chap's feelings.
In the cold and sober light of day I wonder if I was a little rash. Is it right to judge a man by his loafer? Is it just the last vestige of conservatism that makes me prefer a man in a lace up? Am I living in the past? Or would you judge such an individual similarly?
P.S. I am not really sorry, I stand by my initial judgement, and even if you are more receptive to a shoe on a man that wants for a fastening I will not be changing my mind, either now or at any other juncture. If that helps with your response...!
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