Fashion polygraph

It's the main problem with a relationship - accountability. Back in the rose-tinted single days I could freely max out the credit card, buy a bag with a month's wages or just withdraw all my cash for the purpose of rolling around in. Now, I have to sneak bags past my significant other, marvel aloud about amazing bargains that are to be had and practice clever accounting (quite different to accountability, believe me) with the resultant receipts. 

Fooling neither of us, I might add. 

I thought I was alone in living with a sensible guy, but after the last post (below), Harriet called her boyfriend. Her beautiful dress was instantly downgraded from 'vintage' to 'second hand' (as in: 'Iboughtadressbutit'sokayit'ssecondhand' - all in one breath before he could object). 

I guess it's the price (no discounts here) we all have to pay for liberation. Women broke out of the kitchen and headed straight to Topshop on our lunchbreaks.  It's a total generalisation, and possibly a disservice to my gender, but what females can't resist a bit of retail therapy? 

In my opinion, it's the answer to the age old question of what women want - a credit card with no limit and no-one to question our purchases. 

The wrong trousers

...I mean, really. 

I'm as much of a celebrity googler as the next person (the next person being Perez Hilton), but I draw the line at randomers. Why would I care what some badly trousered office worker thinks about... well, anything?

But Ireland is clearly running out of famous faces - horror of horrors, it's a recession of the worst kind. 

I was reading one of our beloved national papers to occupy myself on a train journey last week (a rookie mistake; confined spaces are not clever when a rage could be instantaneously  induced by the turning of a page), and came across the standard fashion feature. So far, so fabulous. But then, boys and girls, I turned the page. 

I'm all for vox pops on fashion - get the regular Joe to tell us that they bought the dress in Zara and their style icon is Victoria Beckham. A perfect opportunity for scorn, no harm done. 

But there is NO NEED to have a sockless man with terrible shoes spread across the page. Male ankles should never be exposed to the nation. Think of the children. 

And not even a famous face to dress up the fashion train wreck. 

Apparently this 'style icon' (ahem) has a band that is storming the charts in Dublin 14, but this was not a person whose style advice I would ever take. 

Harem pants don't look good on anyone, but dear God, if you are 90% elbow/knees then these are not the trousers for you my friend. 

Get some fame, go before the jury, and then we'll see. 

A bad day for fashion, ankles and the male population in general.