Smuttony

I just read The Times Magazine (from July – it takes me a while to get to this nonsense). I’m actually unimpressed by the whole thing – the journos are sneery about pretty much everything and everyone. (Don’t touch Joanna Lumley.)

The Style spread was two pages of a description of ‘Smutton, pronounced “sch-mutton”: the tendancy to dresses [sic] younger than you should when the sun (finally) comes out’. Instantly I don’t really care what this person (presumably female) says, and, obviously, neither does the poor sub-editor required to police this trash.

So here are the things that are smuttony, and whether or not I regularly wear them:
    Hot pants: Yes. Hey, my ass is one thing I’m happy with.
    Bra-less: No. Does anyone? Even though they still pass the pencil test, thank you very much.
    Side-boob/Under-boob: Er, no.
    Bikini top as bra: Yes, because I am a surfer. It’s allowed. It’s one of the best things about summer.
    Cutesy girly kitschy sunglasses: Er…do mirrored gold aviators count? 😉
    Shades, never mirrored: Oh, they do. But mirrored means I can check out hotties unseen!
    Henna tattoos: Okay, I’m kinda with this one…it’s for 18 year old festival-goers. But I still got one in Marrakesh…it was shit, so I suppose it served me right.
    Anklets: I’m sorry, but I LOVE anklets. In school ‘only prozzies’ wore them, but now, while still slutty, I think they are more often cute and sweet. The write admits she has a gold one from Urban Outiftters and isn’t taking it off. Fine – mine are handmade by me from local seaglass, and I’m bloody well wearing them.  
    Selfies of your tanned self: Hm, not till I have completed Forge. Not to say I wouldn’t, though.
    Tan. Tan more! This one goes without saying; I need more tan.
    Nose piercings: Not for me, but I can’t see why not in general. As long as it’s not septum.
    H&M. Not sure why. Not a massive fan anyway.
    A splash of electric pink in your hair: I would…but the boss wouldn’t like it.
    Air-dried beachy waves: This is literally the only way I CAN dry my hair.
    Tattoos: Fuck off. I’m getting another one, to go with my hairdresser’s car.
    Frayed sawn-off denim: Check. I wear it. Fuck it.
    Crop tops: Hahahahahah no. Most teenagers look shit in them, let alone apple-shaped me.
    Loose arm-hole vests: This is surfer style, not smuttony.
    Hair wraps: Oooooh, I must get one.
    Peasant blouses: Have just chucked some out. Don’t flatter me (anyone).
    Pieces of string as belts: Guilty. And strings of shells as belts. And bits of suede, and scarves, and anything really that will fit around my hips.
    Nail art/glitter: Check and check. And I DO NOT CARE. Nail art is one of my very favourite things.
    Bikini should be from the ‘big-girls shops’: Don’t fucking patronise me, I know more about bikinis than you.
    Caps with ‘embellishment’: Again, this is surfer style. And is essential in my tin-top car. Which is probably also smuttony.

So in summation, I am about 80% ‘summer mutton-dressed-as-lamb’.

Instead I’m supposed to wear a kaftan and straw bag? Kakhi and a white vest top like Jen is okay by me, but I’m not as old as the women I’m supposed to copy according to this, and I never want to look boring and ‘classic’. The summer is about having some fun, goddamit.

There’s Elle McPherson, looking great but wow, she must miss food, in a black dress (oh God, what is wrong with colour??), big classic shades (like), and ‘barely-there’ sandals which are cutting off the blood supply to her toes – ‘no ethnic prints or clogs’. I love clogs…and ethnic boho…must contact brother in Africa to remind him of this.

Cindy Crawford – monochrome. I’m not in my 50s and again, WHAT IS WRONG WITH COLOUR.

Jen: Her I like. Always. I think I need a pair of cute kakhi pants in my life.

Off to put on my leggings with lace at the bottom and slightly glittery Roxy vest top with bikini underneath, plus my mismatched Havianas to show my blue nail art off. Mirror shades, top down, shaka.

Truly, though. The only good thing in this mag is Caitlin Moran (and not always her).