I will give you a moment to weep with jealousy.
I promised you on my last post that I would be writing about true love, this will not be the case as that idea is now based on something that happened sooooo long ago that it's a little irrelevant, and I like to think Fashion Nerd is pretty up to speed.
This week I have been up in London to go on several viewings around pokey studio apartments, where I would, quite frankly, be better buying an IKEA wardrobe parking it outside my place of work and living in that for a month but I feel like that would be frowned upon at the Putney Bridge. In an effort to make the experience a little less painful I invited my dear friend up with me to reward ourselves for hours (maybe an hour and a half at a push) house hunting with a slamming night out on the town.
(We did almost look as out of place as this)
So we headed out of our hostel (I know who do I think I'm kidding with my Chelsea flat?) dressed to the nines and travelled the lengthily length it takes to get from Willesdon Green to the Kings Road. We very nearly turned around and went home and not because our feet were hurting. Without wanting to sound completely self involved and vain beyond belief we received a lot of unwanted attention. You know the drill, whistles, 'wahayys' and someone even took it to the next level with a 'Yo.' NO.
It's not like we were walking down the Kings Road dressed like friggin Barbarella, our going out style reflects classy teen vogue shoots (I know that we're not teens, but no one dresses their age in that mag) not an FHM shoot. At one stage a group of builders, why is it always builders?, called his group of mates to have a gawk. I mean come on! Have you no shame?
(See what I mean? No teen is that stylish, we usually haven't moved out of flared jeans by this stage)
What I want to know is what I am meant to do in these situations? What do these men who are, let's be honest, often batting way above their weight expect me to say? (You think I'm being cocky but one man actual had a centre parting and sandals with socks, I like to think I could do slightly better.) Are they expecting me to shout 'Hey buddy! Get up on this!'
(This could be any of us back in 1993)
I actually find it humiliating and I'm not the only one with the Daily Mail reporting last week that 3/4 of us think it's inappropriate. And I It's bad enough to have to take the tube and then stagger through Chelsea in your going out gear without some toothless truck driver pointing out to everyone the fact that your legs are out. No wonder women were tutting at us, we were encouraging disorderly conduct in the royal borough!
Maybe I'm just being really uptight about it? I mean some women genuinely love this attention. I have this, now, ex friend of mine who actually used to count the amount of car honks she used to get and would practically produce a pie chart every time we saw her like we were meant to be impressed or something? I suppose it could be considered flattering that out of everyone on the tube, the man who has to cross his legs to hide his 'pop up and say hello' has chosen to sit opposite you and stare at you in a creepy way whilst trying to entice you by provocatively eating his salt and vinegar crisps.
(It was on a par)
It's not so much the fact that men are enjoying my outfit that I object to because, as my friend pointed out, 'at least we know we don't look shit', its the way this point is addressed to me. I am not a football team I do not need to you to shout 'get in' and 'wahaay' for me to understand that you appreciate my choice of outfit. If you came over, tapped me on the shoulder and politely told me how much you appreciated my wardrobe choice and pointed out what an excellent eye for colour coordination I have then that would be just lovely. Especially if you then bought me a 'Flawless' cocktail (costing £35,000 at Movida's night club London.) Then I would understand your appreciation rather than feeling like I shouldn't walk home alone.
(He's got it right but he's obviously gay)
Many people would still argue that it is my fault for attracting unwanted attention. I'm sorry but am I meant to go out sporting the costume cupboard from the Sound of Music to avoid getting an 'oi oi'? (and even Maria got lusted over by Captain Von Trapp.) At one point I said 'I'd feel less self conscious wearing a cucumber costume right now.' Why should I feel intimidated by my choice of dress? Contrary to popular belief, it's not unwanted attention. God forbid, two years of being single and someone finding me attractive on the Kings Road is a blessing, it's just the wrong form of attention.
So fellas, builders, van drivers from across the nation open those lug holes, for the sake of myself, your wives, your daughters, your sisters, please refrain from the following phrases: Cor' blimey, yeesss, wahaaay, oi oi, take your belts off, I just wanna bang her' etc. The following actions are also pretty taboo: high fives, whistles, car honking and absolutely no way ever do you squeeze my bum unless we have been bumping and grinding for at least 6 minutes. Follow these rules and you are far more likely not to receive a double V sign from myself or the rest of the female population.
As it is, the only drink I got offered for the whole night was several swigs from a cheap wine bottle that belonged to a very sweaty man who was later thrown out for being incapable of speech. Charming.
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