So I went and saw Sex and the City in the weekend.
It was a disaster on many levels.
I went with one of my oldest friends and she bought us tickets to Sky City Gold Class. Disaster number one. It was my first Gold Class experience but effectively I've just flown business class and I'm now ruined for any lesser cinematic experience. Massive reclining chairs? Red buttons that you push that means someone comes and takes your order for another glass of champagne? You get the picture. I'm ruined.
While I fully expected the movie to be rubbish, I was looking forward to having a good wee fix of fashion. While I was right on the first front and I got it so very wrong on the second.
Carrie took smug, conceited I-have-everthing-but-will-throw-a-tanty-when-I-get-given-a-flatscreen-television-instead-of-a-piece-of-jewellery to new levels. What she needed was a jolly good bitch slap chased up by a stint in Darfur with a humanitarian organisation to appreciate life.
And if you've ever suspected that Fashion is actually a very black character with an ironic sense of humour, dedicated to seeing just how stupid she can make us look, then this is the film to prove that theory.
(Rihanna is not in the movie, however this is only picture I can find of that red dress.)
And Exhibit B.
And I'm sorry, but I don't think genie pants look good - even in the desert.
I'm also looking at you as well, orange leggings.