Sock Wan

Sweary

I don’t have a problem with style gurus. Nah. Like so many, many other kinds of gurus, they neither concern, bother, or indeed… er… darken my doorstep all that much. I concede that, in this superficial world, looking good is important, which is why we’re all oohing and awwing and eeking over yer wan on Britain’s Got Talent who apparently looks like a hippo’s minge (It’s true, yo! She didn’t even, like, pluck her eyebrows), but has the voice of a much blonder person, or something. I don’t know. I’m wedged into Fable II at the moment, so I wasn’t really paying attention.

So yup, style is important, and the moral of the Britain’s Got Talent story is that you should hide it away so that you can take Simon Cowell unawares, which you won’t do in a flattering bikini and sunkissed pins, that’s for sure.

You would think that a global recession would be bad news for stylists and, indirectly, for people wishing to stay unique by hiding their stylish side away in order to take Simon Cowell unawares, but you’d be underestimating the tenacity of style gurus and their chameleon-like colour palates. Style has never been more in vogue, now that there’s a recession to battle through and compose chin-juttingly gawjuss themes around. We’ve got the term “recessionista”, which refers to dickheads who’d never been inside Dunnes til their estate agent boyfriends ended up in the dole queue. We’ve got The Sun classifying lip gloss in terms of perceived reader budget. And we’ve got Gok Wan telling us to invest in timeless, classic pieces so that we can then turn a new look with nothing more than a pair of blue socks and a plastic bangle, like MacGuyver during his New Romantic years.

Gok Wan would want to go knob himself, yes he would.

Look. I have nothing against Gok Wan, in general. He seems affable and slim. But any cunt telling me to deal with my halved household budget by splashing out on classic tailoring and coats made for beautiful durability and much, much wallet raping CAN FUCK RIGHT OFF. The last purchase I could justify right now is an expensive but beautiful wardrobe staple like a double-breasted suit of armour or whatever, even if, with the subtraction of a pair of A-Wear leggings, it could double as day and evening wear. Day and evening wear? Expanding gently on our sofas while trawling through irishjobs.ie does not require smart, classic tailoring; nor does adopting the same position after a beans-out-of-a-tin dinner because you can’t afford such distractions as overpriced nightclubs. Classic tailoring? The closest I’ve gotten to that since this feckin’ recession came stomping into the arena is an €11 black cardi I got in Penney’s that I wear everywhere, even in the bath. Woe is me, for I smell like a wet dog.

So yeah. Fuck off, Gok Wan. And bring Gay Byrne and Rosanna Davison with you. The only thing more patronising than some loaded prannet telling us to stay socially acceptable through the dark times by adorning ourselves with overpriced garbage, is a loaded prannet telling us that recessions are good for the soul.

By the way, you’ve just read Arse End’s 500th post. Fuck. I feel like I’ve wasted it now. You win this time, Gok Wan!