I'm getting a weird kind of deja vu: I could swear I've done a post already titled 'the boyfriend's back' but that's probably only because, like any other good on/off love affair, the boyfriend has never really left us, has he?
I mean.. I think just about every year, they tell us 'the boyfriend jean is back' and we are all like, good. Because I'm just in the mood to wear my oldest, crappiest jeans, so thank you very much for giving me permission. This year, we're being told we can pair them with court shoes, bling up the top with blouses (I wish I remembered this lovely Italian photographer's name: she shoots for Grazia, among other publications, and was just so nice).
And that doesn't even count the 'Mom jeans.' Not mUM, but mOm - which, in the UK, it's been explained to us in magazines, is being ironic. They're like the boyfriend jean, but higher waisted - like the 80s. Like someone who was cool in the 80s, but is now, you know.. someone's mother.
It's almost nearly too late to post fur coat shots, but just before we enter spring good and proper here in London, I wanted to show you a juxtaposition: I shot these consecutively, minutes apart (possibly less than a minute), from the same spot. Both women facing the street, in front of the Albert Memorial, after the Burberry show. Having grown up with Pantone colours - in the pre-digital, print design world - I didn't even realise til after, and I looked closely at the shot, what these leggings were all about.
And here, for your listening pleasure, something to sing along to. Has anyone seen Baroness Thatcher's funeral? It was absolutely beautiful. Regardless of one's politics, I felt it was the most civilised, spiritual tribute to a human being, who paved the way for women. Whatever you're doing today, girls, whatever rights, career wise, you are entitled to, whatever opportunities are coming your way, chances are Margaret Thatcher busting through the glass ceiling back then.. it didn't hurt, let's put it that way.