Tuesday fashion watch

Howdy GOGers

Today's rant is inspired by my recent trip to Switzerland.  No, I won't be spouting on the absolute joy that is air travel (see previous post) - but rather on the state of men's fashion.

Now I'm not putting myself forward as the next Gok, or Jason Gardiner (actually, WTF does Jason Gardiner know about fashion?  He's a dancer for fuck's sake.  And wears flat caps.  And puffy neck ties.).  But my passage through Gatwick North last week made me realise that most young men have morphed into a cross between Justin Bieber and One Direction.

And when I say young men, I don't mean your arty students or fledgling gays - no, I'm talking about your geeza blokes off to Faliraki with their perma-tanned bird.  Whilst I applaud the 21st century male for suddenly taking an interest in what he is wearing, as a gayer this is REALLY confusing.  Fifteen years ago, spotting a well dressed bloke with good skin, tattoos and a killer haircut meant that you were on to a pretty safe bet for potential bum fun.  Not any more.  Gatwick was literally crawling with deep V-neck T-shirts and espadrilles with no socks (more on that later), but the blokes would probably glass you in the face just for looking.

You can't blame it all on One Direction - Topman and ASOS have a lot to answer for, and as I've said men taking care of their appearance is no bad thing, but some of the fashions are truly shocking.  Perhaps it's a sign of old age (comment on my age, I fucking dare you), but below are a selection of this season's crimes:



V neck t-shirts
I'm not talking about all V neck t-shirts (because that would just be a bit silly).  No, the V neck t-shirt where the V is practically down to the crotch.  Makes you look like a wannabe Chippendale.



Drop crotch jogging bottoms
OH
MY
FUCKING
GOD

Really - who the FUCK thought this one up?  Is someone in fashion land having a joke?  How can looking as if you have a colostomy bag be remotely attractive?

Espadrilles with no socks
Oh this is a goody.  Espadrilles in general, pretty hideous the first time round.  Espadrilles with no socks and turned up trousers?  Jesus wept.  Think about it.  Men's bare feet.  Straw shoes.

And boat shoes are no better so don't even try that one.

What is most hilarious is that ASOS decided to use a model for this shot that is CLEARLY old enough to know better.  There's not growing old too early, and there's just fucking wrong.  You decide.



T-shirts with frilly bits and stuff

Really?  The T-shirt is a pretty well designed garment that doesn't actually need a redesign.  Bu that doesn't stop the fashionistas from deciding it would be good to 'add a twist'.  Where adding a twist means adding a bit of flouncy fabric to the neck, or even better making the whole shirt look like a bathroom blind.  Awesome.

Call me an old git (I dare you), but I've hardly got to the stage of  shopping at Fat Face and thinking I'm cool - but really people, even as a lifelong member of the gayers, some of this trash makes me weep....

Sunday ad watch

Morning GOG fans

Time for a round up of some particularly crap advertising this morning.  Now, bearing in mind the sheer deluge of shit that assaults your eyeballs in the ad breaks, this post could go on forever.  But it won't.  Because I can't be arsed.  And I'm busy.  Well, not busy exactly.

This post is dedicated to one of my grumpy idols Ben Goldacre, a doctor and science writer who produces the fantastic Bad Science column in The Guardian.  Dr. Goldacre was sued (unsuccessfully) by 'Dr.' Gillian McKeith, after he exposed her for being an utter fraud, and not actually a Dr.  His book, Bad Science, ruthlessly rips apart today's media for its (often deliberately) misleading use of scientific 'facts', whether in moisturiser advertising, or on a national scale with the MMR vaccination scare.  Read it.  Because it's good.

Dove Mencare

First up, Dove Mencare showergel.  Dove's highly publicised use of 'real people' doesn't seem to apply to its men's advertising - this is the usual smiling, buff bloke shot in black and white in the shower rather than an ageing bloater lathering his bits.  But what makes this ad stand out as a piece of televisual crap is the absolute NONSENSE that the ad is based on.

"Leather dries out.  Just as men's skin."

OK, just reflect on this a minute.  To begin with the grammar isn't great, but the thing that really gets me steaming is the comparison of leather to skin - WTF?? Granted, leather is made from skin, however it goes through several very nasty chemical processes to get there!  Would you liken a leather jacket to a skin jacket?  Not unless you were the serial killer from Silence of the Lambs.

Alternative straplines could just as easily use "A cup of tea dries out.  Just as men's skin".

See for yourself below.  Utter bollocks.

http://www.dovemencare.co.uk/uk/en/media_gallery.html


Dettol 'No Touch' Handwash

OK, not a newie but SUCH a goodie.  This really is marketing aimed at utterly STUPID people, who frankly shouldn't be allowed out of the house.

The genius premise of this advertising treat is that soap pumps get germy, therefore you really need to fork out on a soap pump that you don't have to touch.  Simples.  And like all of the other hygiene paranoia ads, this features the obligatory shot of a baby licking a raw chicken breast, highlighting the DANGER that lurks around every corner of your DIRTY house.  It's a miracle that you're still alive.

So thank heaven for Dettol handwash, that kills 99.9% of all known germs.  (They never tell you about that remaining 0.1% - Ebola? Anthrax? Bubonic plague?).  And even better, you don't have to touch the germy pump.  OK, just step back a minute.  Even if your soap pump is covered in potentially lethal pathogens, after touching it YOU ARE ABOUT TO WASH YOUR HANDS WITH HANDWASH THAT KILLS 99.9% OF GERMS.

If you still don't get it, stop reading this blog immediately, lock yourself in a darkened room and never touch anything again.  Ever.  It could kill you.

Saturday dance break

Hey grumpy pop fans, the flat is looking a bit of a state (not shabby chic, just a mess), so it's time for the Saturday morning cleaning playlist.  I should really sell this concept to MTV - music to clean to on a Saturday morning, presented by Anthea Turner, sponsored by Febreze (and anything would be an improvement on My Super Sweet Sixteen - don't even get me started on this...).


PopChop - Cut The Fu*k Up

Anyway, I digress.  First up is a whole album which I discovered in Urban Outfitters yesterday (check ME out, down with the kids innit).  I do love a good mash-up, and this album delivers it in spades.

For any of you that grew up in the 80s (i.e. most of you) this is a must.  Rather than mashing music of similar genres (I hate that word, sounds wanky), PopChop take some hip hop classics and mixes them up with some 80s cheese.  You have not heard anything until you have heard Public Enemy vs. Baltimora - TUUUUUUNE.  Other tracks include D12 vs. Depeche Mode, Notorious B.I.G. vs. Madonna, and Public Enemy vs. Ray Parker Junior.





Lady Gaga - Born This Way

Now I know that I only mentioned La GaGa's new tune last week, but now the video has been reeleased and it's AWESOME.  You may not particularly like the song (I sneer at your poor taste), but you can't not like the video.

The birthing scenes especially are TOO trippy.....and the skull tattoo? I WANT ONE (or at least the bloke in the video, grrrrrr WOOF).







East 17 - Let It Rain

And to finish, a quick delve into the pop cheese archive.  Dappy and N'Dubz?  You owe a lot to these boys you woolly hatted freaks....




Get cleaning peeps xxx

And the mojo is stirring....

Morning GOG fans, lots of stuff to wax lyrical on today, it's been a busy few days.

Just returned from getting a little RnR with my big sister in Switzerland - for RnR read SnS - snow and sauvignon.  Plus, spending hours on eBay finding tasty morsels for the shabby chic flat makeover (actually, shabby chic with a twist, a bit of a juxtaposition of styles yah?).

I could really get used to this redundancy lark, although I have been writing job applications on a daily basis - though perhaps I should be spending more time finding a man to support my new love of knick-knacks.



The grumpy mojo is definitely returning.  Whilst I have been making major efforts to let go of the pure HATRED for my ex-employers (....and breathe, visualise the stop sign, safe place, safe place....), the mojo was stoked by a farcical incident yesterday.

I got a card through the door, informing me that I had a delivery that required a £6 surcharge for insufficient postage.  After trekking to the sorting office to retrieve my delivery, and hand over the cash, it turns out that my ex-employers had delivered the final death blow by posting me MY REDUNDANCY CHEQUE WITHOUT ANY POSTAGE.  Even the grumpy git at the sorting office could see the irony.

My ex-employer JA?

Now I would hate to over-inflate my skills and importance in my previous job (as has been intimated), however AT LEAST I KNOW HOW TO POST A FUCKING LETTER.

OK, time for my medication, laters grump fans xxx