everything is content, 1

Welcome! What's your label?

Original content material.

Have you ever thought about how your death will be reported? This plays on my mind. If, say, you died in a terrible but somewhat newsworthy accident.

When you’re a child they’d write, “school girl dies in terrible accident.” Then as you get older, what? Teen, student, clubber, Blur fan, shop worker, cyclist, leisure centre user? Receptionist, festival goer? Reveller! Holiday maker? Tourist? Commuter… This is of course assuming that you die before the point you become an internationally recognised global superstar.

What if I was knocked down today by a bus in the middle of Leyton High Street? Pedestrian? Woman. “Woman, 40, dies in terrible bus accident”. Or perhaps, “Mother of one”. “Mother dies”. “Mother of one dies”. Sainsbury’s shopper. Motorist? “East London Woman”. What if I’d been coming home from the pub... Drunk? “Drunk mother of one dies in a terrible bus accident”. Christ. And that’s your final epithet, that’s the reportage. That’s the last byline.  

Me, on a bus, which thankfully did not crash.

This all came to mind recently when a conversation I’d had ended up in The Times; I should know better than to gossip with writers from The Times. After all, I sometimes write for The Times, and will always include a conversation should it be marginally interesting / about shoes. Which was what this was about. Shoes. 

I’d been hanging around outside my daughter’s dance class with a few pals, admiring one of the girl’s new Birkenstocks. Blue. Lovely. I looked down at my feet, and saw half of the other women had the same sandals on and considered the now blanket ubiquity of the Birkenstock Arizona among my… demographic. Then, my other friend sung the praises of her black platform Crocs and we ummed and ahhed a bit over it, would we a Croc? What about a Croc? etc… And then, I noted that my friend-who-is-actual-fashion-editor was in a Teva. Riveting. 

Days later, friend from Times was pumping me for an opinion on Crocs. I relayed the above, and said, yes I would still speak to her if she wore them, but I remain on the whole, unconvinced.

Anyway, fast forward. Quoted in the The Times:

I would never wear these shoes.

“Middle-class mum”

Not, “sexy, glamorous, cool, fashion pal says”. “Middle-class mum”

“Middle class mum dies in terrible accident.” I mean it’s true. It is factually correct. 

I think a lot about labels and roles, and the different versions of ourselves we acquire and flit between. Are we what we think we are, or what other people think we are? Or, as Andy Warhol said, “It’s not what you are that counts, it’s what they think you are.”

These are the things that float around my mind. And that’s what I think this newsletter is going to be about. The everyday ephemera of life. Things about me, things about other people, and sometimes what’s just daft, or stupid or annoying or awful or mildly amusing. 

I’m not quite sure where we might end up but if you fancy joining me for the ride, then please do subscribe. I’ll be delivering thoughts from my head once a week on Mondays and will build up to paid-for extra bits and pieces when I’ve figured it all out.

In the meantime, I’d love to know what your worst label is. Do tell. 

“middle-class mum in the wild”

“Middle-class mum”

Otherwise known as Victoria Moss.