Whenever you see the words fashion and feminism together, you’re also likely to find the prefix anti- between them. In spite of great books like Linda Scott’s Fresh Lipstick, or articles such as this one, the belief persists that it’s somehow degrading for a woman to care about clothes. What if it’s the other way round? What if it’s men who are deprived of something when, under the threat of being ridiculed, they’re banned from dressing up?
Here’s something you didn’t know about Pedro Almodovar: before he became the much-lauded, award-winning film director he is, he used to play in a band. And no, it wasn’t some artsy-fartsy alternative rock band known for their greasy hair and Dostoyevsky references. The group, called simply Almodovar y McNamara, is now euphemistically described as punk. Quite what it was, you decide:
Nah, I’m not getting married anytime soon. I’m as good at relationships as I am at cooking – and you should know that I consider fairly tolerable scrambled eggs my top culinary achievement to date. Anyway, were I planning to tie the knot, 2013 would a good year to do so. Firstly, because it’s finally becoming equal for all – at least in the UK, where I live, and in France, where couture lives. And secondly, because the runways have recently been swept with some absolutely astonishing white creations.