I heard on the radio the other day the social pressure and discomfort that men go through when they are asked about a sport that they hold no interest in. The DJ was stating how this makes him feel nervous and panicky when he has to try and blagg his way through the football premiership, oohing and arrhing with the comments made by the other adrenaline fuelled males. This made me wonder about what the equivalent is for women and I have found mine.
Being someone who prides herself on getting the latest outfits for a fraction of the price wading through rails at Primark and Forever 21 to find them limited pieces at the back of the hoards of ‘on trend’ garments, I find the talk of fashion designers a bit out my league.
The recent realisation of this was with wedding dresses. A couple of my friends are getting married around the same time as me, so we are all discussing themes, invitation designs and of course dresses. I being very savvy with my budget ordered mine from China. Okay I know that some people will rise on their high horse about equality and human rights and the conditions my dress was probably made in, but with no proof of this I decided to do order after a bit of research from other UK buyers. So my mum measured me and I ordered it on a very well known bidding website from the comfort of my work desk. All very glamorous! It arrived, it fitted and it was beautiful.
However I have now entered into the world a world where people don’t talk about the dress but who made it. Obviously I don’t have a clue who made mine apart from their account name, so I have inevitably made up a story behind my dress. My friends is some designer which has taken 11 months to be made and has cost a small fortune, mine is now a Vera Wang exclusive straight off the catwalk in Milan. This was a panic stricken white lie to save my female grace.
