Bitch on the Blog

August 1, 2017


I have taken to wearing scarves. No, not Grace Kelly style. Isadora Duncan more like it. Long and floating. You’ll never know when next occasion arises you may wish to hang yourself whilst out and about. Better prepared than wanting, I say.

Why do people look in the mirror the moment before they set foot out of the house? I did earlier, and what I saw resembled an Afghan. The dog. My over the shoulder long hair accentuated by a scarf round my neck (similar colour to my hair) made me look not so much hangdog as, well, an Afghan. What dog do you resemble on a bad hair day? Not, of course, that I am not able to answer the question on your behalf. But then people do see themselves differently to how they are perceived by others. Ask Iris.




August 1, 2012


Filed under: Style — bitchontheblog @ 09:48
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The jury is still out though I have cast my vote: What’s the uglier joint? The knee or the elbow?

Considering that few photographs of you will be taken from behind, the knee wins hands down. Don’t get me wrong: I do appreciate the knee. Without it we wouldn’t be able to walk, sit down, crouch or do much of anything. Just had reason to contemplate this (again) when looking at one of my nephews’ official photographs on occasion of taking his A’Levels. The girls at age 18 – looking like tarts or Stepford wives in the making (and before you say anything I am very fond of tarts – they are street wise, do have big hearts and will accommodate any of your fancies; just don’t slit their throats, please).

Most of the girls got it right. Just that little bit of skirt to cover the knee. The one in the middle, front row, got it so wrong she most likely will have torn up the print already. And will wish facebook had never been invented. There for posterity. I pity her future children. A fashion faux pas if ever there was one. If I were her mother I’d hide in the closet and slash my jumpsuits.

Once upon a time my claim to fame was recorded in the school magazine: The shortest skirts in the vicinity (my mother had bought them for me). How did the copy read: “Attention. Here comes Ursula. Do not blush. Look away. If you must.” To this day I have no idea how one can cause so much with so little. However, my mini skirts and hot pants served an important purpose: Diverting the eye from the knee. Setting your sights higher.


October 3, 2011

Grey to me, gray to you

It’s annoying when you think you are going against a trend – which is my want – only to find some fashion having caught up with you before you’ve had a chance to  be different.

No sooner have I bemoaned my lack of grey/gray hair (I want to be the next Susan Sontag and her white streak) no sooner does The Times inform me that young women do now frequent the same hairdressers in the finest of London as I used to before I headed for impecunity (it’s not funny: Falling from a height does have the ouch factor – will return to subject of poverty another time, and don’t give me genteel). Yes, grey/gray. So youngsters in their bloom will initiate grey. Fine. Do what you must. I have always gone with the flow and have not ever ever ever in my life let my hair be coloured. No henna or platinum for me. Genes gave me what genes see fit and who am I to argue? Highlights? Streaks? Go and find another victim. Still a good haircut is a must. And that’s where splits end.

I am with Geroge Clooney on going gray gracefully.

Yes, so one minute the young dye their hair grey, the next (yesterday) I learn that a new pill (naturally by L’Oreal) has been invented to keep gray at bay. So far so nothing. The amusing part being that the company will not be able to prove their “science” until about ten years in the future. A bit like making money whilst many a man hoping for the bold spot spouting.

On a side note: It’s one of the few products the industry can not test on animals because animals produce their own fur – HA – with the required ingredients to keep them in colour.

Sometimes I look at my parents and wonder. My hair is a mess. For years the most accomplished have told me that I am a rainbow of colours and thickness of my hair varies from the very thin to the thick. Thus a challenge to scissors.

Rounding up: Every time I detect a grey/gray hair I am being told it’s only blond gone blonder in the sun.

I’ll get there one day.


PS You may blame Val of for my taking up one of her strands the other day

March 31, 2010

Fashion police

Filed under: Bureaucracy,Culture — bitchontheblog @ 10:44
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Looney, my views on abortion as promised to you have to wait.

I have more pressing things on my mind this minute – not least that the wearing of jimjams (that’s pyjamas to you and me) in bright daylight, public and on the streets of China is causing somewhat of a headache to the government. China appears anxious not to insult fashion sense of international visitors attending the forthcoming World Expo. One civilian who refuses to give up his perfectly stylish jimjams has challenged the Chinese government to comment on the rumour that Scottish men do not wear protective garments (or thongs as the case maybe) underneath their kilts.

I love this world: One minute we kill each other, the next I learn that sartorial rules given in the run up to the 2008 Beijing Olympics by the Chinese are about to be re-issued, and I  kid you not:

“Comb hair appropriately for your age” – Good job that Zandra Rhodes and I are unlikely to attend.

“Women should disguise THICK ankles with dark stockings” – Whilst I agree with the motion in principle I am a little lost as to how thick ankles undisguised might impact on proceedings.

“Men should steer clear of white socks with black shoes” – Does it really need the Chinese to tell us what’s been known forever, a fashion sin not to be commited unless you are 18, Fred Astaire, Noel Coward or Michael Jackson?

Now we are getting positively prescriptive: “Do not wear more than THREE colours in an outfit.” 

Let’s rope in a currently unemployed psychologist: “Too small clothes make people feel the wearer is unreliable”. 

Such a pity that I am not off to China any time soon otherwise I’d pack some multi coloured shrunk night gowns (they don’t have an edict on those yet), comb my hair in directions following the compass and take along a man wearing socks with sandals (used to be easy to come by in the UK). I don’t know what to do about ankles since mine are not thick (yes, I know, it’s one my pet hates too, how vanity will make you slip in little pieces of unnecessary information about yourself. What else are blogs for?).

I shall now go and consult Debrett.

Can’t get hold of my youngest sister right now otherwise I’d bid you Shanghain greetings.


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