Covering Up... NOT.

(Ok. The following rant has nothing to do with any of you, or any readers who don't speak portuguese, but I'm gonna do it anyway, just because this blog is mine, and I can do whatever I decide to do with it).

The past days I've been thinking how could I synchronize the posts I write for The Clash and the ones I write here. On top of having to do multiple translations that are time-consuming (and quite boring... ), the fact is that the rraurl blog does not ... BEHAVE like a blog. It's more like a column. Blogs are fast, and irreverent, and slightly messy and a bit on the uncompromising side. Now, a column has to be thought about. It's an extended commentary on researched and analysed issues and ideas. As much as I have all the freedom to write whatever the hell I want, rraurl is a MUSIC website full of MUSIC fans and people from the MUSIC industry, most of them MEN - which means my in-depth accounts on the importance of garments must bore them to death.

SO. This is possibly the last post I write for them that I will post here as well - unless it's something really exclusive.

Anyway, I've decided to dip into my lingerie drawer this week (imagine the happiness of those music industry geezers...) and see if I could dig something out to wear ...well, outside. I live in a neighbourhood that's relatively safe, but it's full of sleazy Polish builders whistling and saying things to any woman that pass them on the streets, so I tend not to wear anything that could be seen as... sexy. So, even though I've tried to create combinations that are not overtly sexy, I'd certainly only wear any of the following outfits if I could drive to whatever place I'd be going. No walking to the bus stop or catching London's public transport in this. How sad, I know. But the whole "I wear whatever the hell I want" takes some BALLS - especially if you're a 5 ft tall girl living in north London.