missing dust jacket

Following on from the last post, please indulge me and let me talk about clothes a little bit longer.

Sitting on the train into work on Monday, I noticed a lady perched nearby in a garishly yellow faux-leopard-print coat with the collar turned up. Next to her, a middle aged woman had on a thin leopard-print belt and matching head band (just wrong on so many levels – miaow). The girl sitting next to me had the now ubiquitous leopard-print pumps on. And another girl had a rather more muted, perhaps snow-leopard-print cardigan on. No one looked especially tragic (headband lady aside), but looking at these women, and my own grubby zebra-print pumps, part of me did wonder if it wasn’t actually 1993 and we were all off to prostrate ourselves at the feet of Richie James after a particularly rousing rendition of ‘You Love Us’. I mean honestly, girls, we all look like we’re off to a Manic Street Preachers Generation Terrorist’s tribute gig. Or, only slightly better, Bette Lynch. And no, it’s not ironic if we’re all doing it.