In the coming weeks I shall opine my distaste for a hatful of horrors, some, not all, of which are:
- poseurs who wear spectacles sans lenses;
- sub-literate girls who like to collect vintage novels for the cover art;
- toadying morons whose scant interest in reading is indigenous only to the latest Hollywood molestation of some classic book;
- Baz Luhrmann's intention to re-film The Great Gatsby;
- an imbecilic article in the obnoxious magazine Russh (Feb. '09) which trills "It's stylish to be well read!". It suggests Nabokov's Lolita is "light and summery" amongst other egregious tripe such as taking a copy of Baudelaire on a date even though the readers of said magazine possess the reading-age of a slow nine-year-old child;
- fashion blogs that exhibit not even a modicum of talent, blogs which use thrift as a verb, as in, "Unremarkable '80s polyester shift and men's tan office belt thrifted from Savers, inspired by Sex and the City whose approbation of 'vintage' dressing has informed the slipshod, unflattering and crudely matched way I now dress".
So, why not fetch a madeline and pleat your lips to a scowl.
