Last night, I was flipping through a fashion magazine and I came across an ad that made me sad, and a bit confused, and then irritated at myself for being irritated by it – which was annoying in itself, because all I was really looking for was inspiration for how I should do my makeup. It’s an ad for Trilogy’s Rosapene rosehip oil, and unless I’m missing something or reading this wrong, it’s telling me that it will give me a better edge in the war I’m obviously in against other women. (more…)

One of the oddest things I find about “being a feminist” is the amount of difficulty and debate such a label tends to conjure up. There are thousands of variations, but three key problems seem to always rear their spiky heads:

1. Many women are reluctant to identify as feminists, even though if you ask them their thoughts on specific issues they’ll respond with feminist ideas. There’s a certain ugliness associated with the label that a lot of us grow up learning to be wary of. Take this Maxim “cure a feminist” feature as exhibit A. This article from Mama Mia a few days ago also captures some of the frustrations of this situation.

2.Some feminists believe there should be a core set of bullet-points that a person must subscribe to in order to call themselves feminists. A lot of us do this even subconsciously, because it’s hard to understand how someone who agrees with us on one point could offend us so much on another. We question whether Cosmopolitan should be allowed to call itself feminist, whether Melinda Tankard Reist should be allowed to call herself a feminist.

3. The flipside of the point above is that many women feel like they’re not allowed to be part of the discussion, because they don’t meet the criteria they believe has been set out.

My thoughts keep going back to something Julia Kristeva wrote about in Women’s Time. Okay, I know it might be a bit naff or maybe just pretentious to reference Kristeva, but listen for a minute: in Women’s Time, she makes a case for a new generation of feminism (where ‘generation’ refers not necessarily to a period in linear time, but rather a signifying mental, emotional and intellectual space) that focuses on the multiplicity of individual experience. That means not only accepting that everyone will have different views and ideas, but that within each person exist myriad possible identifications, some of which might seem contradictory.

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I should probably preface this by saying that I love Rihanna. I think she’s cool, and feisty. She’s got guts, and besides, even if you’re too cool for pop music, you can’t deny that every song she comes out with has the ability to turn any party around. And I do believe she’s a grown woman and can make her own decisions about her personal life, even if they may very well be bad ones.

I also believe that guys who beat up their girlfriends (or guys who beat up their boyfriends, or girls who beat up their boyfriends, or anyone who beats up anyone, really) are not necessarily just misogynistic assholes. They might be, but it’s usually a little more complicated than that. I believe that people who do things like that are deeply messed up and need psychological help rather than just punishment. It’s pretty simple – people who are happy and well adjusted and have been brought up well don’t want to hurt people. Maybe it’s naïve, but I generally always think rehabilitation rather than retribution should be the first response.

But I also believe that if you sign up to be famous, you have at least a base level of responsibility to understand how your choices influence the rest of the world. If Rihanna still wants Chris Brown in her life after that infamous night three years ago when he bashed her face in, and wants to hang out with him in her own private time, that’s her call. I’m all about forgiveness, and I can understand how when you love someone that much, you can let anything slide. But she has a responsibility to understand that recording music with him and going around in public like nothing ever happened, as if we never saw those police photos with her face all bloody and purple with bruises, just isn’t all that cool. (more…)

Friends With Benefits is actually awesome

Friends With Benefits is the sort of romantic comedy that explains why romantic comedies keep being made, despite all the ones that make you want to stab yourself in the eye. It’s perfect for one of those nights when you just want to curl up on the couch with a block of chocolate. It has all the things you want from it – beautiful people, beautiful New York, a bit of lighthearted drama that’s predictable but still fun – all without crossing that oh-so-fine line into lamesville.

So I watched it on Saturday night, and it actually kind of made me think. Okay, mostly I was thinking about Mila Kunis’s eye makeup, and what products I might need to be able to copy it. But I also thought a bit about love.  (more…)

Sometimes I think I can kind of trick people into thinking I’m cool. I try to impress people with my ability to sing along to Rage Against the Machine and my love for Fight Club, and sometimes I even convince myself that I’m a little bit rock and roll. But other times, I just come right out with it: I wish Taylor Swift was my best friend.

Listen for a minute. It’s easy to dismiss her and think she’s all sugary sweet and stupid. I mean, a) she’s a young female pop singer, b) she hangs around with that whole Disney Channel crowd, c) she sings about boys and high school, and d) she’s so pretty, with her long blonde curls and a wardrobe full of sweetly romantic dresses. But seriously? She’s just about the coolest girl in the world. She’s smart, she’s hilarious, she has class, and she has guts. And yeah, she’s so nice – but she also has just the right amount of bitchiness that I think we’d get along just perfectly. (more…)

If I did decide to be a bride, a black wedding dress would so be the way to do it

I’ve never been the sort of girl to daydream about my wedding. For me, the idea of a wedding carries the excitement of being able to dress up in a cute cocktail dress and swill free champagne, but I’ve never really thought about me being the bride. I know a lot of girls my age are already halfway down the aisle, and just take it as a given that that’s how life is supposed to work out at some point in the next ten years – but I’m not so fussed about it all. Maybe that bridal gene will kick in one day, but for now, the idea of bridesmaids and bonbonniere and bouquets and all of that is just so utterly boring I feel sick even thinking about it now.

And yet, a few months back when I saw Vera Wang’s black wedding dresses for her Fall 2012 collection, my heart just leapt, and I immediately printed them all out and blutacked them to my wall. Finally, there it was, the perfect antidote to all this Kate Middleton-style primness: if I did decide to be a bride, this would so be the way to do it. (more…)

Andrej Pejic modelling bras for Hema, and why I think he is just the coolest

Okay, so anyone who has spent any time with me in the past six months or so will know that I’m completely enthralled by Andrej Pejic. I think he’s an absolute genius, and he inspires me in a lot of ways. Firstly, in the obvious sense – he inspires me because of his utterly captivating, otherworldly beauty, the way he challenges boundary after boundary, the way he continues to take everyone’s breath away with every new outfit, every new runway show, every fashion editorial.

But maybe more than that, he inspires me because he just seems so completely serene while he does it all. Obviously I have no idea how he really feels inside – but you get the sense that he’s genuinely just really comfortable with who he is, that he actually doesn’t care what anyone thinks. He just does his own thing, and he does it without being all defensive and “hey fuck you man!” about it. He’s only just turned 20, but there’s something really mature about they way he seems to really know himself.

Anyway. So this week he’s making headlines for one of his latest gigs - modelling push-up bras for Hema lingerie. Which is pure genius,  and with Andrej’s sassy, sardonic sense of humour you can just tell he loves the whole idea of it. A lot of the things he says or does, it’s like he’s secretly laughing, and you can just tell he kind of thinks this is a scream. It’s kind of on the same wavelength as the incredibly clever Dermablend concealer ad Rico Genest (better known as Zombie Boy) starred in, and I think it’s very cool. (more…)

In my latest ‘Flotsam and Feminism’ column (published in Farrago magazine), I talked about 10-year-old fashion muse Thylane Blondeau and The Beauty Myth.

Her name is Thylane Loubry Blondeau, and she’s one of the new muses of the fashion world. She’s graced the cover of high-end magazines, starred in ad campaigns for major designers, and regularly works with top fashion photographers. With her long limbs, chestnut-coloured hair and piercing blue eyes, it’s easy to see why—she’s incredibly, almost eerily beautiful. But she’s also 10 years old—and to even think of her as beautiful is to frame her within the context of adult constructs of beauty, and that has some troubling implications.

The sexualisation of young girls has been talked about to death—and while it’s definitely a serious issue, in cases like this it almost seems to miss the point. The issue is really more about objectification, rather than sexualisation. It’s about what happens if little girls are brought up to believe that their prettiness is what makes them special, that their worth is measured not in a small part by their beauty. And it’s an intrinsically gendered issue, because it emphasises the very different way we view boys and girls, even from that very young age. (more…)

In my ‘Flotsam and Feminism’ column for Farrago magazine, I talked about why calling ourselves fat is a feminist issue…

Sometimes I think my body is growing and shrinking all the time. I was a chubby child, but somewhere between Sclub7 days and my debutante ball I slimmed down. Now, a few love-and-heartbreak-induced-ups-and-downs later, I honestly cannot tell if I am fat or thin anymore. Sometimes I’ll see a photo of myself and be surprised by how small I look. Other times I’ll catch a glimpse in the mirror and be horrified by the enormous, lumbering heffalump I see looking back at me. So I’m always moaning about the “food baby” in my belly, complaining about how I’m too fat for my skinny jeans. And more often than not, someone will respond with, “What about me? I’m the fat one.”

Cosmopolitan is currently running a campaign against this sort of “fat-talk.” Following in the footsteps of many similar projects in the US, the “Say No to Fat-Talk” campaign urges women to replace all that verbalised body-hate with a healthy self-appreciation, or- as they rather cringingly call it- “fab-talk.” Despite whatever other issues Cosmo might bring up, I think it’s kind of refreshing to see a body image campaign that focuses on real life and the things we control, not just representations in the media. We know all about digital retouching and starving celebrities, and that’s important- but body-dissatisfaction is influenced by more than just supermodels and women’s magazines. (more…)

Published on lipmag.com

I guess he just wanted some bad-boy cred, or maybe he is just kind of stupid. Either way, the lyrics of Brian McFadden’s new song “Just the Way You Are (Drunk at the Bar)” have gotten people’s attention, and not for their artistic genius:

“I like you just the way you are, drunk as shit dancing at the bar,
I like it, and I can’t wait to take you home so I can do some damage
I like you just the way you are, jump in the back seat of my car,
‘Cos I like it, and I can’t wait to take you home so I can take advantage.”

Hey, Brian, that’s called date rape. I don’t know if you missed the memo, but taking advantage of intoxicated women isn’t really something we’re supposed to be glamorising. (more…)