It’s my party – I’ll cry if I want to

I love this picture. The pint sized male model, whilst looking rather sweet in his haute couture outfit, is not impressed. The little boy, who closely resembles a cherub, cried every step of the way down the catwalk as he modelled for Smalto at a Paris fashion show. Understandably so, he’s been forced into a three piece suit, told to walk down a runway with strangers clapping and members of the world press clamouring for photographs – in no socks!

I have nothing against modelling, but getting a four year old child to do it? I know kids wear clothes too but I doubt there’s much occasion for them to be in a dinner jacket. And this just seems a little gratuitous.

Thankfully, model Alxandre Cunha had the sense to pick up the kid. A happy ending of sorts.

“OBSTINATE, adj. Inaccessible to the truth as it is manifest in the splendor and stress of our advocacy. The popular type and exponent of obstinacy is the mule, a most intelligent animal.”

— Ambrose Bierce

Yesterday afternoon was glorious. To celebrate the first day it actually felt like summer, I went to Hampstead Heath. I was tempted to go swimming in the ladies pond – so delightfully Victorian. But alas, I did not have the courage to see my convictions through. Instead, I roamed about the great expanse of green.

There was, however, one thing that slightly spoiled my afternoon. It wasn’t yapping dogs, I’m rather fond of them. It wasn’t crying children, I can overlook them. It was that some people when walking along the various paths had a blind sense of entitlement to the road. As if it was my job to walk around them. Instead of possibly conceeding that other people were on the public footpath, they forged they own road – if I happened to stand in their way? I was the one to move, because they couldn’t possibly conceive of a world where they might be the ones to shuffle sideways. I think this unique brand of stubbornness is particular to London. Maybe its a defense mechanism  or maybe people are just plain rude.

I suppose it is a kind of obstinacy.  Although it’s not always a bad thing? I don’t think so, not if it’s tempered. So long as you can, maybe, acknowledge the existence of other people and their point of views – I think you’re ok.

 

True Romance

An offhand comment courtesy of Radio 1 DJ, Dev, got me thinking about dates. I don’t mean the fruit  – although I am partial to a few in my porridge.

No, I was thinking of the wonderful world of dating. Everyone seems to have a disastrous first date story to tell. Maybe when going in for a kiss you were sick in the guys mouth. Maybe after having a lovely meal, your date excuses himself to go to the bathroom – only, he actually leaves the restaurant and you’re stuck with the bill. Or maybe, you were just plain stood up.

In all honesty, I don’t know why we put so much pressure on a first date. I know first impressions are important but isn’t the average time it takes us to form a judgment ridiculously little? So surely if you can get past that hurdle, without your prospective life partner running a mile in the opposite direction; pouring gravy into your lap isn’t that bad? Besides,  it could be one of those things you joke about in the future or you laugh awkwardly and change the subject.

I guess dating still is the one effective way we have to get know a romantic partner. And for now, to every single girl out there – nothing can quite beat first date jitters.

Verb | Act dishonestly or unfairly in order to gain an advantage

I’ve always wondered, what constitutes cheating ?  I think, whenever the word is uttered, most people will automatically look towards romance  and affairs of the heart. As opposed to cheating on an exam, or maybe even cheating yourself. I imagine we would all say that cheating, in whatever form, is wrong. But the real question isn’t whether it’s wrong — it’s if any particular one is worse than another?

So what would cheating on your GCSE Maths exam get you? If you go undetected, possibly a better grade. In this instance, you’re only cheating the exam board, a faceless non-entity that you’re never going to meet. So, it’s not that bad right?

And then, there’s cheating on your partner, a night of cheap gratification and possibly a guilty concious. But, you don’t have to tell them right? And besides, why would you when all it’s going to do is cause anger and resentment? And you wonder why Premiership footballers opt for an injunction.

After all that, there’s cheating yourself. Whether it be eating that chocolate bar when you’re supposed to be on a diet or crossing off something on your check-list that you haven’t done yet. But  really, when you think about it. No matter if its cheating on a test or your girlfriend. The lie that it so often turns in to, can eat you up. And you’re the one that has to live with it.

Celebrity

“A celebrity is one who is known to many persons he is glad he doesn’t know.”

— Lord Byron

Every couple of months or so, I see a movie with a distinctly good looking male lead, watch a couple of press interviews with the aforementioned actor, and then bam… All new celebrity crush.

I have  seen some good looking guys in the flesh, arguably,  these men are just as good looking as any number of the Hollywood A-listers Us Weekly insists is the perfect man. But whilst the  guys that I’ve met might have been handsome, hot even, with a genuine personality to boot — they’re just not  the same. For every drop dead gorgeous Tom, Dick or Harry, he will always pale in comparison to the likes of Ryan Reynolds or Christian Bale. Why? Because the latter are big name actors and grace the cover of People Magazine. They’re celebrities. And in the society we live in, celebrities are worshipped as if they were Olympians (the Greek god variety).  Where does that leave the ordinary, non famous folk? Quite possibly stuffed.

We’re always striving for something better, something perfect. And airbrushed actors, in a lot of peoples eyes, are sadly, the pinnacle of human perfection. Once upon a time I was in a relationship, I use this in the loosest sense possible, with a guy… Well back then he was more of a boy. He took umbrage with the fact that I liked comics and superheroes. Not because it was geeky, no, because it gave me an unrealistic expectation of men. Well I think that’s ridiculous, I know full well that if I’m ever mugged, Batman isn’t going to swoop in and save the day. 9 out of 10 times, I’m going to have to save myself.  What would have been more understandable for my ex to take issue with, is my liking for Ryan Reynolds and Christian Bale. They are real people. Poster boys for what a ‘real man’ should be like. A chiselled jaw with full beard growth that hides the soul of poet.

I know they’re just like the rest of us, only with bucket loads of cash, but being famous — it adds a certain mystique. It makes them more attractive. Take Robert Pattinson, if he was working at the tills in Asda —  wouldn’t give him as seconds glance. But I suppose the millions of Twi-hards would disagree with me. For now, I suppose I can only lament the situation, right after looking at the latest pictures of Jake Gyllenhaal about town.