Gosh, well, so much has happened over the past ten days or so in the big wide world! I'm afraid my brain is still not on full form, so this may be rambling and full of loop-holes, for which I profusely apologise at this stage!
So. Unescapable has been London Fashion Week. It's been difficult to escape the constant press attention of it all: every tube ride has someone else staring at those images in the constant flurry of free papers. Yet, it doesn't seem to be the clothes that have caught the eye of most reporters: it's the models. The thousands of stick-thin figures gracing our catwalks this year. Most reported on model of the season is Chloe Memisevic, whose hauntingly gaunt face has frightened me at many a moment during the night. I look at this girl and I feel really sad: there is no way in hell I would ever want to look like that. Other than borrowing that dress, that is.
What is it that possesses designers to hire the most skeletal of models to prance their clothes down the runways? Many of these girls are even slimmer than the mannequins these dresses will be displayed on in store.
My theory is that it must be a financial status thing: if you cannot afford to keep yourself this thin, you cannot afford this dress. That is to say, that if you cannot afford to not have to work and be able to focus all your attention on your appearance, if you cannot afford to only eat hyper-organic foods bought fresh from the market and vitamin supplements (Gwyneth Paltrow, I'm looking at you...), then this dress is not in your price range. Elitist, sadistic, ghastly little bastards. I think fashion designers have a duty to be socially responsible and socially reflective, and they should be held accountable. I'm not saying send a size 16 down the runway - but I am saying that sending a size 10 is not an unreasonable request! Girls like Chloe are not the right example to be setting.
Ugh! Unfortunately, I know that the above is a scramble of assorted jumbled ideas but thinking is making my brain hurt!
On another point: today is the first day of Lent. Instead of giving something up, I am taking something on - I see it as the more positive version of Lent. Every day, for the next forty days, I will be either going to the gym or doing a DVD. Oh yes. Despite having been unwell over the last few days, I'm intending to face one of the aforementioned this evening in an attempt to get my endorphins back on track. Hurrah!
Anyway, hope all is well with all, I'm going to sit in my chair for a little while and close my eyes.