SO LONG, FAREWELL
Columnist Rosie Green says goodbye
I’VE BEEN WRITING THIS COLUMN FOR 10 YEARS. 10 years! In that time, Alpha Male and I have experienced parenting highs (offspring in debut role of disgruntled peasant, nativity in 2011) and lows (the sieving of Rice Krispies to remove ‘yucky dust’). We’ve moved to the country, and have thus far avoided Peterfrom-next-door’s plums (me) and donning mustard cords (Alpha Male). We’ve lived through austerity (car now = moving dustbin). We’ve had road trips (primary activity: chucking raisins back to kids in manner of zoo keepers feeding herrings to penguins), gained two guinea pigs and a not insubstantial amount of body hair. When I started, Douglas Booth was under the age of consent. In 10 years, a lot has changed. We’ve said goodbye to:
THONGS. I mean, thank God. Cheese wire masquerading as under-crackers are no longer standard-issue lingerie (except if you are Kim K). Now we’re woke to the fact that thongs make your arse look so big it needs its own postcode. And it’s not like, since their demise, our eyes are not being assailed by hideous VPLS at every turn, right? Equally joyously, low-rise jeans are on fashion’s skid row. Thanks to Mcqueen I had VC (visible crack) for the best part of the last decade.
THE PLURAL. Sometime in the last decade, in discussions of fashion and beauty, shoes became a ‘shoe’ i.e. ‘look at the shoe Rihanna rocked.’ And the same thing happened to eyes. Are you doing a smoky eye? Why? Why?
SUNGLASSES ON HEADS. For years this was a thing. Now it’s not. How is everyone holding their hair back? Where are they stashing their aviators when not in use? WHITE DOG POOS. No longer in a park near you. Something to do with less calcium in dog food, according to a completely unverified source on Google.
IMPROMPTU PHOTOS. Camera phones are a good thing. I mean, I’m really pleased I now have 14,567 pictures of my porridge and someone else’s wallpaper. But they are problematic on a night out. Now, an innocent snap of the girls needs endless discussion of light and composition, then full vetting, with photo approval sought from all present, before uploading to social media.
PAPER PANTS. When did the waxing therapists of the world, or in London at least, unite and decide a bikini wax was now done in the altogether, doing away with the already inadequate paper triangles? (While we’re on the subject, in the spirit of sisterly sharing, I once went for a wax post fake tan. Don’t ever do this. I ended up spending all holiday looking like I’d had an unfortunate accident.)
WORKABLE TVS. Now every household has multiple remotes. They are proliferating faster than Kate Moss can suck through 40 Marlboro. If you visit someone’s house, and your kids get up at 5am, you haven’t got a chance in hell of getting Rastamouse on.
AND… ONE FINAL GOODBYE. This is my last column. SOB. No bad break up. In fact, Red’s divine editor is calling it a conscious uncoupling. It’s just part of life’s change. (One exception: AM’S hair. That won’t change. Still Joey Tribbiani circa 1994). I have loved writing this column. I’ve loved all the letters, mails and DMS that have said ‘this is my life, my boyfriend/ husband does this too, and yes, I also hold my bag up to my ear to see if it is my phone that’s ringing.’
If I have given just one of you a belly laugh or helped you feel your imperfect life is perfect then I’ll be overjoyed. I promise someday I’ll write the book. But right now? Please excuse me, I’ve got some Rice Krispie sieving to do.
‘I HAVE LOVED WRITING THIS COLUMN’