Black and gold could be one of the following, a song by Sam Sparro or a 99c 2L worth of vanilla ice-cream from Tom's Supermarket. Preferably a weaving gold snake like pump fit for all Goddesses past and present. It teases you, it taughts you and you love it, you want it, you need it like gelati on a hot summer's day. It drips down your hand, it's so good you lick it off. Nothing can be wasted. Sticky, splats on the pavement. (The dog can lap that up.) Hmmmm can you taste it? It's the taste of satisfacition.
A man in a suit for a woman is the equilavent of a naked chick for a man. I've said it a million times and now with this frenzy of 90s grunge that is sweeping the youngsters I will remind you all once again. A suit is porn for women especially if they are ironing or vacuuming. (Yeah think about it men) Make women go wild guys, actually take pride in your clothing you'll be certain to turn into a Julio Iglesias type. Yes, women will actually hurl there undies at you. It's a win win situation...No?
High above us all there is a divine right of footwear. This is not marked by name only nor by who wears it. It is marked by it's attention to detail. As I regulary stress the importance of quality in construction, grade of material and manufacture I hope out there somewhere, someone is listening.
This design is an instant classic, yes it's true. A shoe like this with it's own added quirk can be worn even after it has been officially outed by the trend setters and fashionistas that constantly plague the fashion weeks around the globe. Tis fun to watch as they scramble to every event changing their outfits to be snapped away at. They love to make a grand entrance and I love to watch them, (especially if it's shit weather and they get stuck outside). True trend setters and fashionistas follow beauty, creativity and add their hints of 'personality' without trying too hard.
Miu Miu I love your youthful charms mixing fine elegance with disco fever. You remain as always like your mother Prada deep in the heart of my knock-off purse. I leave you fittingly on your pedastal where you rightly belong.
Every now and then, (and I say this seldomnly) you need a little metal in your life. A violent thrashing of chorus, a gun metal guitar ripping and shredding. You need a little urban Futurism, no? Industrial squeaks and grinds. You want to hear the clank, clank, clank of a press. The ripping of foil, (think, back of throat flem noise) and a heavy thump of machine madness. So take this urban rebel pump, rough metallic spritzing and mosh with it. Rock n'roll ain't dead but your ear drums will be.
