The three-shoe man issue revisited

Following an earlier debate on this site, Off tha cuff, concerned with matters male and footwear writes:

Those that manifest a bond with their footwear seem to fall into two groups. There are those that truly collect, always on a mission to find the next rare edition kicks to tick off their list of personal desire, trawling through piles of deadstock, and who are willing to pay almost any price. Then there are those that recognize the importance of having a fresh pair of shoes in near constant rotation. This second type generally select their styles based on the movements of the industry, always ready to splash the cash on the latest re-issue or new colour way. There is a divide between these two groups, where passion and dedication is often replaced by the fickle nature of trends. Personally, I'm not sure I fall into either of the above categories. I feel I've been around long enough to know which models I like best, and more over, suit my style. I don't care how rare those lo Dunks are, only the hi's make it onto my footwear floor space

This is a picture of his complete shoe collection.

I count 22 pairs

I felt his pulsating manhood within me

There were two big parties in London last night, the British Fashion Awards, won by Stella McCartney, and the Literary Review Bad Sex Award, won, posthumously, by Norman Mailer, beating off Jeanette Winterson, a strong contender. The prize is for the most redundant and badly-written sex scene in a work of literary fiction. There was a very funny speech by the Literary Review's editor, Alexander Waugh, son of its founder Auberon Waugh and grandson of Evelyn Waugh, but I had drunk too much champagne to remember much of it this morning.

The shortlist is nominated by readers of the magazine and a large number of entries were for Ian McEwan's Chesil Beach, though as Alexander pointed out, without the sex scene there would be no novel so it could hardly be called redundant.

The eight shortlisted authors' words of purple prose were read aloud, under a full-length portrait of the young Queen Victoria with her mouth slightly open in a moue of shock. Then the prize was presented by former supermodel Marie Helvin who confessed that until she was thirteen, she had never worn a pair of shoes. The prize is a semi-abstract statue representing sex in the 1950s and a bottle of champagne, if the winner turns up, which Mailer was unable to do, for obvious reasons, so it was given to the youngest ever shortlisted author, Richard Milward.

And here is an extract from that winning entry:

The Hound began to come to life. Right in her mouth. It surprised her. Alois had been so limp. But now he was a man again! His mouth lathered with her sap, he turned around and embraced her face with all the passion of his own lips and face, ready at last to grind into her with the Hound, drive it into her piety.

I've got nothing to wear for the revolution

Times fashion editor Lisa Armstrong gives tips for what to wear on the barricades, whether it's celebs supporting the screenwriters' strike or students protesting David Irving and Nick Griffin at the Oxford Union:

All the really successful anti-Establishment movements have had what fash-ionistas like to call A Look, whether it’s Boadicea’s striking face paint, the Roundheads’ distinctive hairdos, Eva Perón’s descamisados(shirtless ones) or those cute Bolshevik caps. Some of the lesser antiEstablishment groups – Mods, skins, Teddies – were so busy working their look that they forgot to think up a manifesto.

Then there’s the French, who, whether it’s 1968 or almost 2008, always put on a stylish performance out on the streets – a dash of black poloneck, an all-weather trench, a slim-line leather jacket like the one Cate Blanchett wore at the weekend to cheer in Australia’s new PM (and Che Guevara might have worn had he had a contract with Armani). Oh, and loads of black eyeliner for flirting one’s way out of a police cell.

Donna e mobile

How our faces changed.


(with thanks to George Szirtes, whom I pinched it from)

Thought for the day

Three-tenths of a good appearance are due to nature; seven-tenths to dress. Chinese saying