Not all men
but somehow, always men
Light relief atop today, slightly bleaker behind the paywall. To enjoy this full edition please consider levelling up to Contributing Editor status with a paid subscription!
Content in Brief
Being Cathy
This week I spun off a Brontë country guide for Vogue which you can read here
If you’re really taken with the Wuthering Heights juggernaut, you can win a night in Cathy’s bedroom via Airbnb
The wild west (of London)
I ventured west and popped into Rejina Pyo’s really quite wonderful new shop - a former 19th century grocers. Worth a visit just to see the very sexy original tiled walls and floor as well as her excellent spring collection and art work on display.
If you are a fan of her clothes, then be thrilled that John Lewis has the second drop of their collaboration coming up soon. There is a great slip dress with tiny buttons running through the front which comes in orange and black.
It would be remiss of me to not say that the second drop of Labrum’s partnership with JL is excellent, it’s technically menswear but it might just be one of the best things you can treat yourself to (the cream textured blazer is an ideal summery addition). I want the knitwear, too.
The denim dictatorship
I have felt very affected, if I’m honest, by the onslaught of new season denim demands. Disney’s upcoming Love Story - the JFK/CBK romance which starts on Friday - is going to fuel a lot more of this straight leg jeans are the acceptable ones propaganda. I felt very pathetically put out by this until I dug around and found an old pair of blue straight leg jeans (Good American, always) which I shall get the thigh-rub hole fixed on (by Sojo, which I love) and then we go again.
I’m sure you have the same old new jeans they’re all going to wanging on about endlessly, too. But saying that, obviously wearing whatever jeans you actually like is your prerogative! They are just filling space! I shall also remain committed to my baggies and concerned about my slightly cropped palazzos in the light of the millennial cringe factor on length. I know I need help.
Not all men
Lamentably, I have also spent the week being just that too bit plugged into the news cycle, but it is hard to avoid. Yesterday when Radio 1’s news bulletin came on the hour my 8 year old daughter declared, “I’m so sick of hearing about this Jeffrey Epstein guy.” Sure.
It is generally pitched as the seedy-scour of the rich and powerful, the men who divide women into two categories. The mothers, sisters, daughters and shrew wives they placate, and then the nameless girls who placate them, existing only to be objects for their lascivious demands, objects for one thing only, charted, ranked and traded as if Top Trumps. Dealt between them as jokes, the old boys network, the that’s just how-he-likes-it acceptance. Perhaps there is a third type, too; the women who think they are in on the prank, but