Like most young girls born in the latter part of the 80’s our teeny-bopper years were shrouded with a love for virgin socks, Tetris and the Spice Girls. My virgin socks were imported from a young Alicia Silverstone in Clueless, the timeless chick-flick, loosely based on Jane Austen’s Emma. My hemline skimming hosiery was accessorised with my game boy, and my walkman tunelessly belted out the SPICE album purchased for a whopping great £12.99 at my local Woolworths.
I was willing to give up the Soviet constructed video game and my 90s DVD boxset but I could never quite shake off my love for all things Spice, namely Geri Halliwell. To my younger self, she was the epitomic vision of womanhood – all big boobs, bright hair and equilibrium defying footwear.
As my music taste matured ever so slightly I adopted a passion for Bowie, I too was ‘plastic soul’ and had a sexual prowess called Ziggy Stardust deep within, and it is of course fate that I should today be living in Brixton, where he was born sixty or so years earlier.
Now January 2013 has been a big month for my two pop loves, Viva Forever has opened in the London West End to mixed reviews, and Bowie my friends is back (hooray!) with a hauntingly beautiful single as a prequel to his imminent album launch.
Now I know we have been overrun with British flags flying everywhere, between royal weddings, bake-offs, birthdays, babies and sporting ceremonies, but I want us to cast our minds back to 1997 when two popstars flicked their equally ginger locks and pouted as hard as they could possibly pout, and clad themselves in red white and blue in celebration for their love for Britannia, in a year when Britannia had in fact done very little.
Now that the sea of tourists sporting Union Jack clad hats, and 70,000 overly helpful ‘Game Makers’ have gone back to their day jobs, we can once again wear our national colours in a fashionable manner and with a new sense of entitlement, so this is how you do it girls, like a dude, of course.
Babour’s Union Jack International
1) Barbour is about as British as you get, and is a brand that has capitalised on its primary audience living in a country when it rains pretty much every day of the year. Their Union Jack International motorcycle jacket flies the flag in its lining and is available in XS for girls who have their eyes on this style but can’t get their mits on it in the womans’ section – huzzah!
Belgravia Lace-up High Top Trainers
2) For ladies who are vertically in favour, and have consequently been gifted with larger plates of meat (that’s London speak), what better brand to cushion them in than Jimmy Choo. His SLOANE slipper collection are more regal than the Diamond Jubillee itself, and the BELGRAVIA hightop collection that herald from the neighbouring borough sport prints that are more out of Africa than SW1, but stunning never the less. These are the ones-and-twos to look out for.
Paul Smith Union Jack Mini Cufflinks
3) With the high collared crisp white shirt and its close sibling the denim shirt remaining firmly in fashion, Paul Smith’s men’s cufflinks baring a Union Jack clad pair of minis are a cute accessory to add a splash of humour to a tailored look. I would part my fringed blond lustrous locks alla Nicki in Alfie and board my double decker to Covent Garden immediately.
Alexander McQueen Union Jack Scarf
4) Alexander McQueen scarves have had a big few years. Every woman, whether you be East or West was ribboning her neck with skulls in brightly coloured hues. The God Save McQueen scarf is a shawl of equal calibre, and although its not menswear the Crystal Britannia Skull Box clutch for women is an equal feast for the patriotic eyes.
