February 21, 2012 |
Seriously, why? Why the swarming mobs, the constant flashes going off in face (if I want to be blinded I will do so in my own time and on my own terms by pouring acid in my eyes). The angry sighs if you happen to step into a shot accidently, the blocking of every walkway because some bitch dropped £500 on a pair of shoes and has the same handbag as everyone else with a well abused overdraft. They’re not style icons. More like designer clones. The lastest whatever does not make you a beacon of taste. In most cases it makes you a clone. Really are they worthy of a scrum comparable to the one that greets Lindsay Lohan every time she exits a club after yet another sober night on the tiles? Don’t you have like, real jobs to do? As for the ‘style icons’, aka shameless poseurs. You are not Madonna, you are not Vogue, you are not required to strike a pose because there’s nothing to it. In fact we’d rather you didn’t. And that pathetic oh me stance, you want a picture of little ol me while preening for the camera wearing something ‘edgy’. Pathetic. Get over yourselves. We did.
As dictated but not read by Antony Miles
