Friday, August 13, 2010
Sartorial Musings
I think the best thing anybody can wear are abstracts – a nice smile, a great attitude, her heart on her sleeve. And very little else. And the best dressed are those who wear what they think looks good on them. I like women who adopt an understated sartorial elegance. Someone who, despite her youth, can be comfortable in a cotton sari. The whole idea of ostentation puts me off, so simple yet elegant goes well. Though I usually look at women’s clothes to see how well they go with my floor, if they insist on wearing something, these are a few ensembles that I like to see:
* Cotton sari – regular wear
* Those cotton FabIndia pajamas and a ganji/vest/singlet
* No heels
* Shorts and T-shirt with gladiator sandals
* LBD but no heels
* Bright floral summer dress
* Did I mention no heels?
* Anything easy to take off
* G-strings (only)
* No heels
What I don’t like seeing women in are:
* Bikinis if you don’t have a body for it
* Tank tops with your stomachs oozing out
* Heels
* Low-waist jeans if you’re going to keep showing me your arse-crack
That’s about it.
Why the aversion to heels? I feel the same way about them that I feel about whalebone corsets and Chinese footbinding. No amount of looking good justifies self-flagellation. And I just can’t bear to see a woman tottering about on half a square millimetre of leather surface just so that it makes her look good. And I like pretty feet, so any that look like they’ve been through some machinery are a total turn-off. So there.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Let the Reader Beware
Friday, July 30, 2010
All Sound and Fury
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Like Watching Paint Dry
So my good friend Dax suggested I start the second Starkindler chronicles. I told him I didn’t have a muse. Or amuse. It’s not funny.
So I’m now in
I believe that the world is divided into two sorts of people – exhibitionists and voyeurs. We are all, to varying degrees, exhibit both characteristics, but one more than another. And there’s the rub, for in today’s world of ultra-voyeuristic Warholism, the demand of exhibitionists has gone off the charts. Which gives opportunity to the millions out there to differentiate themselves, earn their place in the sun, on television and, hopefully, in the annals of history.
They’re close; their very much in the anals of history all right. Because though one has been exposed to their exposers for many a moon now, one never gets over the desire to bare it all to the public. It is a mad race to the screens, a scramble to be seen, heard, loved, hated – anything but ignored. It’s a result of the ennui that has followed our explosion into the consciousness of the world and each other. From public exhibitionism like reality shows and the like to private exposition like blogs and social networking, it’s a glut of people, a smorgasbord of personalities, behaviour and raves and rants. People are everywhere, and no man, indeed, is an island any more.