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We’ve come a long way, maybe

Did you know:

In the 16th century, eating an artichoke was reserved only for men. Women were denied the pleasure because the artichoke was considered an aphrodisiac and was thought to enhance sexual power.

Did you also know:

In the 21st century, not only are women allowed to lasciviously devour artichokes to their hearts content, they may also go about dressed up like one if the House of Hermès has crafted for them a handbag in a matching colour.

Plastic is my aphrodisiac

A boy of many talents

Having filmed his first kissing scene in a Harry Potter movie, and before that an even steamier one in December Boys, Daniel was ready to take his on-screen romancing to the next level.

I want to be remembered for more than just being a Bond girl

Eva Green has been named by People Mag as the World’s Worst Dresser, possibly on the strength of the above outfit alone. It’s a weighty dishonour to carry, but one that will surely stick in our minds at least until Mr Blackwell hands down his judgment. Well done Eva, and here’s hoping that there will be many more fashion disaster accolades to come!

Sheer confidence

Yes yes the dresses were awfully pretty and ladylike, but how about that sexy bit of blouse at the end? No Donna Karan Intimates for this lady. Look, it’s made Anna so flustered she’s gripping her sunglasses until all the veins in her arms have popped out.

The laws of haircolouring

There are three laws, and they go hand in hand with the stuff you learnt about robotics, motion and thermodynamics. The first two are whatever you want them to be. So, for example, you may choose to have:

1. Blondes have more fun (and gentlemen prefer them too)!
2. Change is good!

But they must always always give precedence to the third rule:
3. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

Otherwise you run the twin risks of Nelly Furtado and Robert Downey, Jr.

I’m sorry I had to ruin your weekend

Fashion and sport rarely mix but when they do, the effects can be downright disturbing:

Formidable fashionista editrix Anna Wintour is just crushin’ on Roger Federer. The tennis star has even managed to put a smile on that famously pinched face. Thrice Wintour has shown up to cheer Federer at the US Open, swanning magisterially into the player’s box. And before the tournament began, the imperious doyenne of chic hosted a soirée in his honour, tout le monde – well, at least the crème of the monde – summoned to swish in presence of Vogue and vogue.

He must be something special. Anna doesn’t pull her dress down that low for just anyone.

Kiera Knightley….Ayyyy!

Manolo says, sometimes, we must all have our say…

Kiera Knightley..Ayyyy!

MANOLO: Ayyyyy! She is so ethereal! Like the wisps of fog on the Scottish moors, only colder and not quite as inviting.

PLUMCAKE: and probably not as popular with the sheep.

SPIRIT FINGERS: That’s so dangerous. Somebody could take it as an invitation to stake her. And then we’d be left with a little pile of Keira dust. Which won’t do for Chanel photoshoots. Or would it?

PLUMCAKE: Of course it would. Karl would just sprinkle her over one of Coco’s old couches and then take pictures of the cleaning lady going to town with the lint roller. Fashion is the dust of existence! It’s inspired.

MANOLO (making sign of the cross): Bend it Like Nosferatu

SPIRIT FINGERS: POTC: Dead Woman’s Chest!

MANOLO: i’m in ur grave poking u with my ribs.

PLUMCAKE: I for one think it’s brilliant. It’s high time that someone finally turned Wuthering Heights into a zombie flick. Because you know what Bronte sorely lacks? Undead starlets with chainsaws for arms. (not pictured: chainsaw arm)

SPIRIT FINGERS: People Mag actually had the temerity to ask whether this look was “Hit or Miss?”. If only all of life’s questions were so simple!

MANOLO: They are. Hit or miss? Anorexia or bulemia? Dead or undead?

SPIRIT FINGERS: I heard she’s using the “Periorbital hematoma” brand of eyeshadow.

PLUMCAKE: Is that Latin for the blood of fifty virgins?

MANOLO: Good luck finding those in Hollywood.

SPIRIT FINGERS: She’s going for a statuesque pose but I’m telling you, not even the pigeons of St Mark’s Square would land on her. And they’re a pretty open-minded bunch, as far as pigeons go.

PLUMCAKE: Oooh, dissed by Italianate sky rats. You’re a cold woman Spirit Fingers. Let’s braid hair.

SPIRIT FINGERS: Sounds like a plan. See ya Keira wouldn’t want to be ya!

Fasten your panties, it’s going to be a bumpy ride

It was late in the night, the subprime markets were in turmoil and the three of us were just looking for some fun. And so Ayyyy! was born, with The Manolo, Miss Plumcake and myself wedged excitedly in the front seat of this shiny new blog. Join us as we laugh in the face of rehab, chuckle fondly about irresponsible parenting and clap our little hands gleefully at poor fashion choices.

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