And Another Thing – Swimwear, Feminism and Body Issues

Last week, I paid horribly for the fact that I am going on holiday. Post tropical illness injection (needles, ew), I had to go bikini shopping* on Oxford Street. It. Was. Horrifying. I felt attacked by swarms and swarms of crappy, tacky, badly made beach attire without even one or two things in the middle that were acceptable. And the more everywhere was peddling the same crap the more I got annoyed. It wasn’t just that this season’s swimwear is not my style, it’s that they are in no way practical, functional, or fit for purpose. It got my inner feminist working overdrive, and not so much because of the horrible frills, trims and tack-central shapes and colours but rather because every bloody bikini and swimsuit is padded here or a bit tucked there. By the time I had reached Marble Arch I was properly enraged, with feminism steaming out of my ears.

Terrifying Frilly Swimwear From The Highstreet

WHAT is with the assumption that girls with small to medium boobs want giant knockers and therefore everything must be padded? Now ladies, if you’ve got a good rack, props. I ain’t hatin’, celebrate those boobies! My point is though, why can’t us ittybittytitty girls celebrate too? I am comfortable with the size of my chest. I don’t want it to be any bigger, especially as a result of a bikini or a bra that pushes (pun intended) the idea that I need big boobs to be womanly. No, I don’t.

It’s the same point I am always trying to make – that women are all different sizes and shapes and that so long as you are healthy you should be happy in yourself and society should leave you be the way you are. I don’t want a weird tummy tuck swimsuit. I don’t want my bikini to look like a wonderbra. Fair enough if you do, but it is a seriously depressing state of affairs when buyers won’t even entertain the notion that women are comfortable with themselves. Of all the masses of swimwear that I saw, there was maybe less than 1% that was just simple, unenhanced, the way nature intended. This was not an unconscious decision, the high street seems to have decided that women are not good enough as they are and therefore need all this padding. You know what, it might even be true, but it is not up to some buyer to decide that for me, so I shall be heading to sportsdirect.com and buying a Speedo. And, if I had loadsa cash, these.

Mara Hoffman SS12 from Asos

ASOS Digital Beach Scene Cut Out Bandeau swimsuit SS12

Wildfox swimsuit from Asos SS12

Emma Cook One Piece Digital Print Swimsuit from Asos SS12

Mara Hoffman Print One Piece Swimsuit SS12 Net-a-Porter

We Are Handsome Digital Print One Piece from Net-a-Porter SS12

Yves Saint Laurent One Piece Swimsuit from Net-a-Porter SS12

images via net-a-porter and asos.com

*Yes, yes I know…first world problems…

When the Dust Settles – Fashion Week Part 2

*WARNING: This post contains thoughts and social opinions*

London Fashion Week packed up and left town on Wednesday, with menswear taking the closing honours. I am really glad I made the push to make it over here in time to absorb some of madness that is fashion week – it’s sort of a circus mixed with a zoo. What really struck me was the prevalence of low budget DSLR’s (mine included) and girls and boys like me looking to catch a candid fashion moment, as well as capture the characters hanging out in Somerset House. I got talking to a few people (the fash pack are deceptively friendly) and one older Turkish man remarked that the normal people floating about seemed more important than the models, and in some ways I think I agree with him. For my part, anyway, I am as interested in how we the people interpret fashion and arrange it according to our budget and hip measurements as I am in glossy ads.

That said, I can’t ignore the latent narcissism and pure vanity of some of the people hanging out at Fashion Week HQ – there was certainly an element of “take my picture”, “notice me”, “look how beautiful I am, even though I’m not actually a model”. Some straight ups were a little too posed, some vacant stares a little too rehearsed. But the overwhelming majority of people I encountered and observed seemed to be genuine fans of fashion who were there to observe, and if people took their picture, fine, but that was not the overriding purpose of the exercise. It would be a bit glib of me to pretend like I’m not flattered if someone thinks I’m stylish – after all that is the industry I am in – but my focus has always been to create rather than take to the other side of the lens. Anyone with a passing interest in fashion will understand that street style photography has become a massive part of how fashion is now presented in the media, and dismissing it as nothing more than vanity is really missing the point of fashion imagery.

So I guess I’m being a hypocrite and saying that if you get dressed with the sole intention of having your picture taken, you’re an idiot, but if you have your photo taken because you are inherently stylish that’s fine? Yea, I think that’s basically what I’m saying.

Fashion has always had roots in exhibitionism, and I suppose the prevalence of bloggers now makes it easier to point the finger and call people up on it. Possibly we are uncomfortable with the notion of someone wanting that sort of validation; however, anyone who has ever dressed up to impress a boy or a girl or has dressed to fit in with a group is just as guilty of seeking validation through their outfit. And we all have to admire someone who is unashamedly proud of the way they put themselves together – that confidence and brazenness is what fuels the creative industries. Imagine Lady Gaga if she was just chill about things. We need exhibitionists in our midst, a focal point, a benchmark.

I have included some of my favourite shots from Somerset House over the two days that I was there. They have a theme that became apparent as I looked back on them – they are headless. In many of my shots, almost unconsciously, I found myself drawn to creating anonymity by cropping the figure – to create an image that is just about the clothes. Given my feelings on the narcissistic elements of the place, perhaps this was my psyche’s response – stripping them of their 30 seconds.

Time Out

I failed miserably in my blog challenge. I started, then got really busy and failed to see the merit in spending time performing these little tasks I wasn’t that into. Here is a list of things I did not post (and my reasons for not doing so)

1. All your earrings, rings, necklaces and/or bracelets. (do you REALLY want to see that? thought not)
2. Your jewelry box. (it’s fairly boring, and not worth a picture)
3. Something that you only wear around the house. (eh, no. obviously)
4. Something you only wear in the summer. (this is getting lame)
5. An article of clothing/ accessory that you consider lucky. (i have a lucky necklace, but again, lame)
6. Your favourite pair of shoes. (they are all over this blog already!)
7. Shoes you love but hardly wear. (this is a whole post in itself)
8. An mismatched outfit that you’d never wear (go wild: earrings, belts, crazy skirts etc). (huh?!!!)
9. A hat. (see below)
10. An outfit you are ashamed to say you wore. (I only regret the things I didn’t do)
11. Something that is your favourite brand. (I’m on it)
12. Something from your favourite store (I think this means fav high street, and I’l get on it)

*Aside warning* Mostly, I just wasn’t that interested in photographing my rings, showing you rubbish clothes I shlep about my house in, …It’s a bit over-personal and just isn’t my style baby. I had a really interesting chat recently with fellow blogger Alex Donald about blogging and finding the right balance between sharing and maintaining a comfortable level of privacy and indeed integrity. It was really nice to talk to another blogger about these things, and it got me thinking about what level of privacy is best for both blogger AND reader. As in, me putting a picture my fleecy tracksuit bottoms on the internet serves no purpose other than an overshare; if anything, the reader would be better off if I were more private. I don’t think we drew any conclusions, but there is definitely a fine line. Blogging as a genesis demands an intimacy from the writer, as it is a personal thing, but what is too much?

Anyway, aside over. Speaking of hats (no. 9), I lost my hat that I had got to replace a hat that I lost. Basically, as soon as someone mentions Coppers, I lose a hat….I wouldn’t mind, but I didn’t even go this time….

my lovely bowler, last seen on or around my head, somewhere outside Whelas….

Oh, and I got an internship, and a j-o-b, so I have been a busy little bee starting to get myself in ship shape for finally getting myself to London at the end of the summer. WINNING.