I’ve never been a Liz Jones fan and tend to avoid her columns. Reading her noisy convictions and unapologetically frank descriptions of her life with now ex-husband Nirpal Dhaliwal made me feel like I was charting the progress of a funeral. I didn’t find it riotously funny (some of my friends did) and all it conjured up was horror and human suffering. Oppressive conversations and snapshots of a turbulent life. I still wonder whether she aimed to demythologise the idea of marriage and relationships or if she derived pleasure in making her obsessions public. Too much personal information can be cruel. I don’t dislike her but I find her cherished confessional style unappealing even if her prose is good.
Anyway, the real story here is her piece published in the Daily Mail yesterday. My friend Laetitia mentioned it this morning and told me to read it. You should too. She’s certainly no Cathy Horyn when it comes to fashion writing but she does attempt to peel away the layers of the industry. She has a point when she ruminates about the legitimacy of hip it kids in the front rows, the quality of some of the clothes and the frequent elitist attitude of the PRs.
I’ve always had mixed feelings about London fashion week and find that I’d rather watch the shows online. It seems more dignified than having to deal with bouncers, crowds, queues etc. It’s a less taxing process! Or maybe I’m just getting too old for this circus. Hahaha.
I took this picture in Montmartre, Paris. It clearly has nothing to do with the subject of this post but I quite like it!