Monday, 29 March 2010

In which I administer the last rites to my style credentials

On Thursday night, Madame la Moue roped me into modelling in a fashion show in aid of Danny's school. MLM was taking the photographs from the sidelines, where she was also manning the bar. Oh dear. Whoever allowed this state of affairs obviously didn't know MLM very well. At all. Observe the way the photos get more and more blurred as she consumes increasing quantities of cava and loses the ability to use the autofocus. I think of these pictures as a precise record of MLM's experience of reality as the night progressed.

Unfortunately for me, the clothes were AWFUL. Just hideous. Here is my second outfit. See how I hang my head in shame as I show off this sleeveless, ruffled shirt (three words that would NEVER appear together in my wardrobe). I also wear a black mini skirt, whose side-split (I discovered a few steps down the catwalk) remained sewn up, forcing me to take tiny, hobbled, Chinese-foot-bound-lady steps as the skirt rode steadily higher up what Madame la Moue described as my 'mottled, purple bare legs'.*

Question: would you take fashion tips from a woman who paired an ill-fitting, tomato shirt with black office trousers? They were blimmin' grumpy, those organiser-women, as well. Hatchet-faced, I think is the word.

Diana, one of my fellow models, and I bonded in shared horror almost immediately:

What fresh hell is this? A nylon dress in mauve florals over black bootcut trousers? One word: WHY?


Throughout all this you have to picture Madame la Moue sarcastically mouthing 'GORGEOUS!!!' while making googly saucer-eyes and stifling her sniggers.

My final outfit surpassed all others in its sheer buttock-clenching wrongness.

I am only thankful that Madame la Moue had lost 80% of her hand-eye co ordination by this point, so that you cannot see the full horror of leggings teamed with a vest top and a grey, tie-dyed waistcoat. A TIE. DYED. WAISTCOAT. Of the kind more usually accessorised with white dreadlocks. And a digeridoo.

And then I went home and held a funeral service for the mangled remains of my fashion credibility.

That was not even the worst photo, by the way. The last one of the show looked like this. MLM you are a LUSH:

 *I love you too, MLM.


  1. Genius Madame you sum up the evening perfectly.
    Am laughing out loud at the sheer horror.

  2. Happy birthday Madame la Moue. You are a disgrace to the PTA and all the more wonderful for it xxx

  3. This is hilarious. Made my skin crawl. It's almost like a sitcom script.

  4. Now there's an idea: MLM and I in our own TV show: car-crash telly at its finest...