Controversial Thoughts on Sarah Ashcroft

Unless you live under a rock (which tbh would be goals at the moment) then you will have seen your Twitter feed explode with anger at this blogger that no one’s really heard of called Sarah Ashcroft and her interview with Cosmo>. The thing is, I’ve read the piece and, while it comes across as self-indulgent, I don’t disagree with everything she says…

I wanted to offer new and fresh content every post, but it came with a lot of pressure

Firstly, I thought this was a really honest thing to admit. I’m not a fashion blogger but I’ve seen posts from many who say they feel forced to spend all their money on Topshop trends to stay current. I live 75% of my life in pyjamas so my fashion blog would be duller than watching Formula 1. And trust me, that’s dull. So I get where she’s coming from.

I actually turned down ‘real’ jobs because it started to become a standalone thing

Maybe this seems bitchy because she’s using the ironic quote marks, but it’s also largely reflective of modern attitudes. Most people don’t blog with the expectation that it will become their main source of income- it’s often still not viewed as a ‘real’ job and I think this statement merely reflects her similar surprise.

Do We Choose Insecurity?

I’m of the (slightly controversial) opinion that people choose to be insecure. Obviously there will be exceptions like if you’re bullied you have insecurity projected onto you or if you have severe body dysmorphia you can’t help but see your body as fundamentally different to what it really looks like, but as a rule of thumb, insecurity is a choice.

In some senses, it isn’t a conscious choice. After all no one would choose to feel shit about themselves, but it other ways, it is a conscious decision as people choose to do nothing about it. They stay insecure and they stay complaining about being insecure and yet they do nothing to make themselves more confident. For a long time, I fell into this category too.

 

When I was younger I hated how I looked and the people I went to school with seemed to agree (why are kids so mean? Anyone?) so I would skip meals to get thinner- spoiler alert this technique doesn’t have the desired effect and only makes your stomach rumble reallllly loudly so it sounds like a miniature thunderstorm mid-maths test- and research different plastic surgeries to save for. I was miserable.

 

And then one day, after watching the Katy Perry movie (I’m convinced all the best mental breakdowns happen during the credits of this film) I cried to my mum about how sad it was making me, and after much emotional support she said: there’s nothing wrong with you, and even if there was, why would it matter?

Should We Support Ivanka Trump?

Headlines from the past few days make it apparent that Trump’s eldest daughter has been suffering from her father’s election:

‘Sales of Ivanka Trump apparel slumped at Nordstrom’

‘Upset with Trump the President, consumers boycott Trump the brand’

‘More companies drop Ivanka Trump products’

Here we see a female entrepreneur- a breed which is unfortunately still rare in the modern world- having her business boycotted due to the actions of the men in her life. On paper it’s a feminist’s nightmare, but in practice I think it’s pretty justified.

Don’t get me wrong, as a rule of thumb judging women for the actions of the men orbiting them is a no-go, but in this case, to blame men for the entirety of her demise just isn’t accurate. It’s not about boycotting Ivanka because of Donald’s actions (first name terms amiright), it’s about boycotting Ivanka because of her own. Or should I say lack of. Because yes, he is her father, and yes it would be blady awkward at their next family Thanksgiving if she publicly condemns his behaviour, but it’s still her choice not to do so. To deny that she has a choice is, as Sartre aka King Of My Heart describes it, ‘bad faith’.

Valentine’s Gifts I Don’t Get

I don’t really have an opinion on Valentine’s Day- most likely because my uranium heart is only capable of loving myself and The Great British Bake Off- but when it comes to gifting I’m like the present police. I’ve noticed that on V-Day people are exchanging gifts that you’d need a PhD in Cringe to understand, so I thought I’d compile a list of pressies that I don’t get (both physically and metaphorically):

P.S. If you received any of the things on this list then I still love you (unlike, perhaps, your partner) (that was a joke) I just had to write something Valentine related and this is the first thing that came to mind xo

Giant Teddy Bears: Don’t get me wrong my Build a Bear was pretty much my only friend up until 2011- if only they had some kind of human Build a Bae version eh- but she wasn’t the size of a baby elephant. I look at men lugging huge, stuffed animals through town and can’t help but think about the custom made IKEA storage solution they’ll need just to home it. Then once it’s in your house, other than recreating your first date to Chester Zoo, what’s its actual purpose? Surely, your other half will just end up cuddling it more than you, in order to get value for money. The impracticality is beyond me.

CDs: They’re just a bit vintage now, yknow. Make them a Spotify playlist available offline or something instead.

Bra Shopping Struggles

Bras are pretty weird. I don’t know who decided that women were going to add ‘sitting their chest fat in cotton breast-hammocks’ to their dressing routine but it’s now become a well-established part of our lives. However that doesn’t make transitioning into the world of bras any easier.

Nowadays I’m more of a bralette-on-a-weekday-free-the-nipple-on-a-Friday kinda gal, and perhaps this is due to the awkwardness of shopping for actual bras as a tween. Although now I’m pretty comfortable buying anything from granny pants to lingerie (however I do draw the line at those Lovehoney pants that have a hole in the bum) it hasn’t always been this way, so after the success of my A cup post, I thought I’d treat you to another highly traumatic relataboob struggle: bra shopping.

The Size System: The problem with growing boobs (not that I’d know) is that it all happens at a rate that takes you from aged 10-11 vests to the world of ‘letter and number-beginning-with-30’ combination before you’ve had time to raid Waterstones and find the Puberty for Dummy’s guide.  Is DD smaller than a D? Is 36 how old you have to be to wear the bra? Can I just hibernate in my vests a little longer until I work this completely random system out?

A Girl’s Guide to Festival BS

As fab as it’s been, festival season is almost finished- now we’re all counting down for the Christmas markets amiright my fellow German-gingerbread-shaped-heart lovers?- so I thought I’d share what I’ve learnt these past few months for anyone making their festival debut next year. (Art by the super talented Jesse Howarth who bossed her AS exams yass)

Fashun: Think Millie Mackintosh at Glastonbury. And then use that as a template for what you shouldn’t wear. Yes designed floral minidresses and faux fur wraps are cute but you won’t be helicoptered back to your VIP Winnebago at the end of every night so you have to approach this practically. Don’t wear anything that ends with ‘suit’ inc bodysuit, playsuit, swimsuit (unless you want your trophy cabinet to be fondled by strangers), jumpsuit, because you’ll have to spend 268 seconds longer in the portaloo and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Except Kanye.