Pre-Loved Pant Struggles

It’s been a bit (understatement) of a shit week in Britain: leaving the EU, realising I’m not at Glastonbury and being called ‘feminist trash’ by some guy that seemed to think the wage gap was Disney’s latest fairytale, made up to keep the kids in the backseat quiet for the 8 hour drive up to Newcastle, instead of an actual issue. On Wednesday my skin was covergirl quality and now I have 4 spots simply from the stress. In order to re-chill and remind myself how intersectionally liberal I am, I ordered a book of maps (which is probably like a racist’s ‘I have black friends’ argument but it made me feel better all the same).

However, this isn’t a post about maps because, after I bought my anti-Brexit propaganda I headed over to Depop- otherwise known as my go to gal- just to browse (says every girl ever before she spends £38.50 on a Naked Palette, I see you bb) (shakin dat ass) (shakin dat ass) (top tune what can I say) but ultimately I ended up buying three stripey rollerneck jumpers. And I honestly don’t even know why. Jess darling, it’s summer? Although it did get me thinking, every single experience I’ve had with Depop buyers and sellers has been wonderful, but isn’t the process of buying second hand clothes a little weird when you start thinking it through? I thought I’d share with you my DEunPOPular thoughts

For anyone that doesn’t know, Depop is a site where you can buy, sell and swap clothes and other crap you don’t really want anymore. 

The Shoulder Smoulder

This isn’t a post about why it’s okay to defy dress codes– after all, they’re often implemented for a reason- however surely we must question the rules in order to establish whether the logic behind them is fair or not. Because the guy that sang that song that was used in the Cadburys advert a few years ago which then got covered by Ella Eyre said ‘we don’t have to take our clothes off to have a good time’ which presents a nicely rounded smorgasbord of options. We can strip if we want to but we by no means have to. However at the moment, this doesn’t seem to be the case. Recently minimal clothing has become synonymous with forcing little girls in spaghetti straps to leave school to prevent their shoulders from being a distraction to the boys. In this situation, the child was five years old.

In the UK, the weather isn’t hot enough for shorts and even if it was most schools have uniforms which control what you wear, so although you can be disciplined for rolling your skirt too much, from what I’m aware, our system is nowhere near as critical as that in (for example) American schools where girls are actually sent home due to their outfits. Now when it comes to feminism there is probably no issue whiter than discussing how middle class American teens are being sent home for exposing too much St Tropez tan but the other day I saw this comment under one of Emily Ratajkowski’s Instagram posts and I was too shocked to function. So I think it’s worth talking about.

Confessions of a Bad Blogger

A few weeks ago I didn’t post. This is now a bit awks because you’re all sat there like soz Jess didn’t even notice you were gone but trust me, I was, and I felt really sad inside. Every Monday for over a year I’ve posted and then on Tuesday I read the comments (which I’m supposed to reply to on Wednesday but always forget), Thursday is promo day, Friday blogger chats, Saturday I have to re-edit because I realise there’s about 8 typos and then Sunday I’m writing the next post. When there was no post I suddenly had nothing to read or promote. I was literally half a girl. However, my lack of commitment did inspire this: Confessions of a Bad Blogger

Snail Speed Replies: I love your comments more than I love most members of my immediate family, they’re so intricate and thoughtful and feminist; I feel like in order to reply to my full capacity (cough cough Jess babe are you trying to make excuses because this really isn’t subtle) I need a good 90 minutes and a cherry bakewell flavoured tea. It’s just a shame that IB students don’t have a spare 90 minutes very often. I will always reply to every reply you just might have to wait a week. Or two. Max.

I Don’t Plan Posts in Advance: I wish I could be the person who rolls out of bed to the sound of WordPress notifications, throws on clothing sent to them for free to review and tends to the bullet journal where they’ve planned every post for the next two centuries while sipping something incredibly romanticised but equally gross like elderflower cordial from their Blogger Of The Year trophy. But I can’t. I used to have some random posted notes with ideas on dotted around my room but that got too risky after my Grandma came to stay and asked “Why do you have PORN PROBLEMS written on your wall?” Thanks Gma, legend as per.

Who takes a Feminist to a Wedding?

Now, I’m not going to pretend I like weddings. Although the idea of wanting to spend your life with one person is adorable and I probably will end up marrying (social norms are called social norms for a reason) I find the day where you declare your love very problematic. Especially as I’ve just returned from one, I recognise that there’s nothing worse than being a feminist at a wedding- not to generalise all feminists here but for the next 800 words or so I’ve already decided you’re siding with me.

For example The Bride Is Given Away: This stems from when daughters were considered the property of their parents and therefore it was their parental right to give them away aka this is scarily possessive. Why do we treat women like the Home Alone VHS that I donated to charity last month? Especially when the grooms are capable of getting themselves to the venue and up the aisle alone, surely the bride should be doing the same. Unless she needs her dad to use as a crutch because she can’t walk in her platforms- in fact that would explain a lot.