Modesty dresses? They make us look like fools
NICOLE KIDMAN’S made her look like a fondant fancy; Kylie Minogue’s had something of the Seventies barmaid about it; and Pippa Wossernamenow’s resembled a set of discarded curtains, right, from Kensington Palace.
I speak, of course, of the fashionista’s new favourite, the floaty floral, aka the modesty dress.
We’ve been here before, back in the Seventies. Kate Bush, wafting around in a red one accessorised with green eyeshadow and a flower. Doomed virgins in Hammer Horror films. High flouncy collars, layers of chiffon, bell sleeves.
The sort of thing you might have bought from C&A, 100 per cent polyester, no naked flames, drip-dry only.
Already we’re being told that they’re part of some feminista backlash against the flesh-baring trends of recent years. Nonsense. It’s just another attempt by the fashion gods to make us all look like fools.
Because whether it’s 1970 or 2017, the effect is the same: Lady Guinevere meets Lady Gaga.
If you have a great figure, they make you look like a Victorian spinster. If you’re a big girl, you’re into tent territory, or marquee if you’re not careful. Might as well hire yourself out for weddings.
Shapeless, fussy, frumpy and impossible to iron, they’re about as flattering as an old dishcloth, only considerably more expensive.
Kidman’s hideous mauve one, by Erdem, which she wore at this month’s Glamour Women of the Year awards, supposedly had a price tag of £2,500.
Frankly, I’d pay that not to have to wear it. I must admit I was slightly horrified when I heard about the couple who had been filmed as good as having sex in full view of their fellow passengers on a flight to Ibiza. I’ve been to Ibiza countless times with my children and have never witnessed anything other than impeccable behaviour. But then I realised it was a Ryanair flight and everything fell into place. Last time I flew Ryanair, I was assigned a seat that didn’t actually have a seat cushion. When I queried this with the stewardess she said it had ‘gone for cleaning’. I’m happy to report this was before the current incident. IT’S not just the 16 to 24-year-olds who can’t survive without wifi on holiday. I’m 50 and I can’t possibly cope without it either.
I’m not particularly interested in checking Snapchat or updating my Instagram with pictures of my knitting; it’s just that I now get really stressed if I can’t check my emails.
All of which makes the prospect of going on an internet-free holiday about as much fun as a stint in rehab.
Which, when you think about it, it is.