Getting Agent Provocateur's "sexy" back

Since I blogged about Agent Provocateur's recent move towards extremely un-sexy models, I thought I'd put the URL out there a bit in the hope that someone at the company might read what I'd said and respond. I sent it to their oddly named Twitter account, which claims to be the official Twitter for the "sexiest lingerie in the world", but heard nothing back. Not a peep. Then I searched their website for an email address in the hope of contacting someone in their head office, but eventually had to resort to using a web form and leaving the following message, with a link to my blog: "Could you tell me why AP has decided to take a 'fashion' rather than a 'sexy' direction recently? Your skinny models really don't make me want to buy your lingerie. So much so, I blogged about it. I'd love to hear what you think. Thanks."

Time passed and, while a few lovely people retweeted my link, I heard nothing from Agent Provocateur. I read about All Walks Beyond the Catwalk teaming up with Rankin at London Fashion Week in the hope of changing the industry's obsession with stick-thin models; I received email updates from the Campaign for Body Confidence; and, most of all, I remembered the days when AP campaigns featured the likes of Kylie (see image from the 2001 cinema advert, "Proof"), Maggie Gyllenhaal and Kate Moss. Why did they not want to bring the 'sexy' back to AP? Six days later, I received this email:

Dear Lori,

Thank you for taking the time to send us your feedback.

We take all customer responses very seriously and will consider your comments when casting models ongoing.

We hope you continue to enjoy shopping at Agent Provocateur.

With thanks and kind regards,

Nicola Hunn
Personal Shopping Team Leader

I wonder just how seriously Nicola is taking my comments as, if she'd read the blog post I'd linked to, she'd have seen that I said I'm now looking to places like Kiss Me Deadly for my sexy lingerie and have stopped shopping at AP. Variety is beautiful and, equally important when you're selling lingerie, variety is sexy. Selling lingerie that only suits - or fits! - smaller women, and only promoting it using models as thin as they are un-alluring is really not doing AP any favours at all. As Rankin said, when interviewed about All Walks Beyond the Catwalk's project Snapped, "Interest and creativity is not about perfection but quite the opposite; beauty comes from our idiosyncrasies".

Quite how Agent Provocateur could claim to sell the sexiest lingerie in the world these days is anyone's guess. Take a look at the range of beautiful brands at websites like La Magia and Glamorous Amorous and see if you want to go back to AP. Browsing beautiful fabrics and shapes cut to flatter every type of figure is a far more enjoyable shopping experience than looking at skimpy over-priced lace that only suits a UK size 10 or smaller. Don't just vote with your feet though - we all need to contact Agent Provocateur and let them know how we feel so that they have more comments to consider next time they're casting models.

Half (marathon) Nelson

Last August, I had my photo taken by Rankin as part of a massive exhibition of his work that was on show at the Old Truman Brewery for a few months. I tweeted while I waited for my turn in front of the camera, and then also after the shoot, which led to a few messages from strangers on Twitter and helped introduce me to a new friend. Claire was slightly nervous about her shoot the following day and so we got chatting about what she should expect. Afterwards, she let me know how it went and we stayed in touch, finally meeting up in person at The Rebel Rebels' festive burlesque show last December. Claire offered to video my act and so I handed over my camera before the show - neither of us thought this was strange behaviour for people who had technically only just met.

Sadly, we're both often too busy to meet up offline and so, aside from a particularly memorable evening as part of quiz team Gin'll Fix It for the Popbitch Pop Quiz, I usually keep in touch with Claire online. However, on Saturday she joined us in person for a house party with a cheeseboard of epic proportions plus much Guitar Hero action, and rocked into the early hours of Sunday despite being on soft drinks all night for a very splendid reason indeed. She's not teetotal, wasn't driving and isn't taking antibiotics. No, Claire's in training. On 10th October, this fantastic woman will be running a half marathon to raise money for Scope. If you could spare a bit of cash to show your support for her dedication to a good cause, pop over to Claire's Just Giving page and help to spur her on to the finish line. A half-marathon is more miles than I'd consider walking, let alone running, so her determination amazes me. Charity donations from friends, family and colleagues managed to get me to get off my backside to walk the tiny distance of 5km, but 13 miles... that's almost 21km!

In addition, if you have or know of any jobs that are currently available in London and require the skills of a talented writer, you should perhaps just hire Claire Nelson instead. You know it makes sense.

Love and goodbyes

I feel the need to tell you something today. Something that may surprise some people, but not those who have been paying attention. I'm in love... with two people. Everyone who knows me knows that I love Topper and have done so since that fateful New Year's Eve party that took us into 1999. Nothing that anyone else does can ever affect our relationship and I truly believe we will be together forever. In recent years, we got to a stage in our relationship where we felt comfortable with opening ourselves up to new people and new loving relationships, which has only made what we have even stronger.

However, when I first met Rachael there was no forever. I always knew she was going to be leaving the UK permanently and returning to San Francisco sometime relatively soon. By the time she went home to visit her boyfriend last Christmas, it was clear that her return to London would only be until the autumn of 2010 so, for once in my life I was decisive, and I told her that I'd like it if we could be more than just friends. Thankfully my clumsy way with words didn't put her off and, since January, we've been seeing a lot more of each other and have become extremely close. She's a wonderful person who I adore and love spending time with. Sadly, from 12th October when she flies back to the US for good, I'm going to see her a lot less often and it's going to break my heart. It was always coming and yet that doesn't make it any easier. But that's one of the great things about non-monogamy though. When we miss each other, we'll both have someone amazing there who can provide us with love and understanding to help us through any tricky times.

I also have a wonderfully dear friend who I know I can always count on. We may have been in a relationship in the past, but our non-monogamy led us to simply change the status rather than end things, so we're always in touch and there for support. I know I'm in for some sad times ahead, but I also know that it's just the start of something different. Change isn't always a bad thing.

Images by Beth Anderson and Jon Cartwright.

Grown up language

On Twitter this morning, I made reference to a possibly drunken, probably sarcastic tweet from the rather excellent Ms Stamper and, before long, there was much talk of boobs. In fact, I was recommended by someone as a person one of their friends should follow purely because of my mention (and promise of future mentions) of the word. Being rather fond of carefully crafting my tweets, I decided not to repeat my initial usage of the slightly comical and rounded word 'boobs', replacing it instead with the rather more straightforward 'breasts' as I wrestled with the pressure of living up to such a recommendation. When Carrie complemented me on my use of a more grown-up word, I started to ponder the variety words we use for that particular part of a woman's anatomy, and why.

Why do we need so many words for these over-sexualised mounds of flesh, and why do so many people opt for the slightly childish or crass words? Perhaps they're slightly frightened of mentioning such things in polite company and so referring to them as boobies helps to remove any sexual overtones? Maybe using the word norks adds a slightly friendlier Carry On edge to a letcherous comment? Whatever the reasons, it's tricky not to make small assumptions about a person and/or their motives, based on their noun of choice. Using 'tits' makes you sound like a bit of a Nuts/Zoo magazine-reading football hooligan, whereas the phrase 'fun bags' is guaranteed to insinuate that you're not getting any sex (nor are you likely to any time soon). I even think the word boobs is a little childish. After all, that 'oo' sound sandwiched between those lovely round Bs may feel nice to say, but it sounds like something a kid would yell whilst pointing at their pubescent sister as a form of mild public humiliation.

So, if we're being serious, why not say breasts? That's what they are, after all.

Reclaiming the word slut

I've mentioned in passing on this blog that I consider myself to be a slut and I don't see that as a bad thing, but I figured this little revelation might need a post of its own to explain exactly what I mean. After all, to most people 'slut' is a rather nasty word that is often used to describe women of questionable morals who will have sex with anyone. However, non-monogamous people who are ethical about it (i.e. those of us who have additional relationships without all the lies and the cheating), have long sought to reclaim the word slut from those who use it in the pejorative sense. After all, what's wrong with liking sex? As Dossie Easton and Janet W. Hardy said in their book The Ethical Slut, "a slut is a person of any gender who has the courage to lead life according to the radical proposition that sex is nice and pleasure is good for you." Sex is an amazingly pleasurable thing and it's a shame that society seems to consider anyone who, by their standards, overindulges as somehow wrong in the head. Seriously, who doesn't want free fun? With the correct physical and emotional precautions in place, there really is no downside as far as I can see. It's worth also mentioning here that, just because we enjoy it, this doesn't mean we'll be happy to do it with absolutely anyone. After all, people who consider themselves to be foodies aren't often found in McDonalds, so why should a self-proclaimed slut not also have impeccable standards and taste? I enjoy spending time with wonderful people who make me feel good and enhance my life in some way. For some of that time, we may be naked. Does that really make me a bad person?

On a related note, I have discovered today that I'm up for Best Sex-Positive Blog in Miss SB's Very Prestigious and Entirely Serious Blog Awards 2010. If you fancy voting for me before Thursday, that'd be grand.

BitchBuzz birthday bash

I started writing for women's lifestyle website BitchBuzz last December, after many months as an avid reader. It's a pretty special website as it acknowledges that intelligent women have a wide variety of interests, from news and technology to style and relationships, but that we don't want to be talked down to or taken advantage of. OK, so we might like articles that are short and snappy, but that doesn't mean that everything needs to be dumbed down with more serious subjects avoided. Far from it! We want to hear about The Fawcett Society's legal challend to the UK budget and what Lady Gaga got up to at the VMAs. Give us food and fashion, sex and sarcasm, celebrities and culture - just don't ever tell us how we should be running our lives. Other than the fact we know she's frequently online and can think for herself, there is no typical BitchBuzz woman.

On Friday night, I got to meet some BitchBuzz women in person as the site celebrated its 2nd birthday in style with a party in central London. Founder and Editor Cate Sevilla was there, looking fabulous as always, and joining her for celebratory cocktails were lots of BitchBuzz writers and fans. I chatted to contributors Hannah Mudge, Alison Duker, Charlotta Hedman, Laëtitia Wajnapel and Claire Tayler, plus I caught up with Sarah Barnes from Uplift Magazine (on the left in the photo with me and Rachael Gray) and Elizabeth Varley from TechHub. I also got to meet Worldeka's Sophie Cox and the lovely Fleur de Guerre from Diary of a Vintage Girl. So many intelligent and inspirational women in one room! A great time was had by all and now I'm looking forward to seeing the rest of Iain's photos from the evening. I sincerely hope that BitchBuzz continues to grow and go from strength to strength... and I'd say that even if I didn't write for them.

UPDATE: Iain's photos from the evening can now be found on the BitchBuzz Flickr photostream.

Work less and do more

For the last couple of months I've been attempting to get things done and also trying to help others do the same (I realise that an update on that post is still due!), but I've not really been doing so well. At all! As you can see from my latest Bitchbuzz article, I'm still not managing to slow down, concentrate and get organised in my life. Whereas some people I know work too hard and never have time to play, I'm the complete opposite. Sounds like both types of people need a little bit of assistance with being productive and finding a balance, but how on earth do we stay focused enough to do it? Well, there's a book out this week that might possibly be able to help me. Get-It-Done Guy's 9 Steps to Work Less and Do More has tips on focusing, getting organised and not wasting time, which are things I definitely need help with. It seems to be written in the sort of snappy style that I have enough time to delve into on my daily commute so, I might give it a go. Will report back on my progress. In the meantime, I think I just need to stop saying yes to every social engagement that comes along and make a little bit more time for... well, sleeping!

To the Creative Director of Agent Provocateur

Dear Sharon Shotton,

First of all, I must say that I have long been a fan of Agent Provocateur's lingerie and marketing. Years ago, whilst hunting in vain for a suspender belt in department stores on Oxford Street, I took my boyfriend to your concession in Selfridges. I was unsure about your prices but, being so thrilled that we'd actually found something that meant I could wear real stockings, he kindly purchased a lovely Nikita set for me. I picked up one of your beautifully photographed and illustrated brochures with a wonderfully saucy tale of sapphic French lust inside and, pretty soon afterwards, signed up for your mailing list.

Today, via that mailing list, I received an email inviting me to come to Selfridges on the evening of 23rd September and meet you. Although I cannot attend on that evening, I felt sufficiently moved my the image attached to that email (see screenshot), that I felt I must write this blog post. Much as I enjoy seeing the new styles that your designers have come up with - plus rummaging through the sale in the hope that I can find the style I want at a more affordable price! - recently I have decided that Agent Provocateur really isn't for women like me. Even if I could afford to buy all my underwear from you, I wouldn't. While it still thrills me to see your wonderful tableaux photography, I am struggling to find it at all sexy these days and surely that's what AP has always been about? To put it quite simply, I am wondering why on earth your models are so thin.

I was invited, via another email, to 'sculpt' my curves in your Zelma dress last month, but the model wearing it appears to not have enough curves of her own to make me believe that the dress has any sculpting properties whatsoever. The new Katherine range is stunning, but any woman with even an ounce of fat on her will be bulging out of it in some very unfortunate places. Is your lingerie designed for the vacant dead-eyed lethargic models in your videos? If so, perhaps you shouldn't be marketing it as sexy any more. This seems far more like more 'fashion' than 'sex' to me.

Let's go back to Kylie and that raunchy cinema advert. Now that was sexy. I miss that foxy fun-loving version of AP. OK, so I can't afford to spend out on a lot of your products but, when I do get my hands on some cash, I will now be looking elsewhere to spend it. Unless you want to vary the size/shape of your choice of models and maybe do a little customer research into what turns us and our partners on, of course - then you might be able to tempt me back. If you need me, you can find me over at Kiss Me Deadly.

Kind regards
Lori Smith

The tale of the burlesque cape

Holy crap, I'm ahead of my time! Sometimes fashion takes a look at my wardrobe and thinks it's found something to resurrect and that day has, once again, arrived. Back in 2006, I broke my wrist and ended up with a massive plaster cast on my arm. Annoyingly, with it being a rather cold January in Manchester, this meant that my left forearm was too big to fit into the sleeve of my winter coat. What to do? Well, I emailed the lovely Flic at Rags to Bitches and asked her if she had any wide-sleeved coats, cloaks or capes in stock. Thankfully, she did, so I popped into town to pick up something practical to keep me warm and ended up with a cute 1960s cape that looks like it should be hiding a nurse's outfit underneath. Once my arm was back to normal, however, the cape didn't get much wear as I had a cross-body handbag back then plus rather cold arms. Still, I felt that it was awesome enough to keep.

Last year, this rather odd garment came out of retirement to become a key item in a burlesque act I created for Christmas, called 'A Simple Mistake'. Wrapped up in a cape, scarf, gloves, ear muffs, and carrying ice skates, Miss Lolly Pops gets off the plane to discover that she was in Australia rather than Austria (suspend your disbelief here, people) and so completely inappropriately attired! This bit of 2009 silliness received much love, as did the cape, so The Rebel Rebels' audience were thrilled when said cape made a return to the stage for 'Uprising' in March 2010. Political commentary is rarely this sassy or, it would appear, stylish. By the time Miss Lolly Pops showcased an updated post-election version of the act earlier this month, the aforementioned cape was looking like this season's must have item. Capes are everywhere for A/W 2010, as is the colour grey (not that I can find a link to back up that claim anywhere now, but I'm sure I read it somewhere). Next thing you know, my cowboy hat will be fashionable again. Oh, wait... Depeche Mode style? Now you're talking!

Image by Laura Jung.

What should I wear?

Last week on the Uplift Magazine blog, Sarah Barnes wrote a fantastic post about what women wear, what men think, what other feminists think, and whether or not we should care. This was particularly interesting since I first met Sarah at the launch of Reclaiming The F-Word, where we were both dressed rather differently to how many people would envision a feminist would look. Surely women should be able to wear what they want in 2010 - be it a bodycon dress or a burka - without being judged? Just because I believe in equality, doesn't mean that I should hate make-up and high-heeled shoes. Can't we wear things because we want to, rather than because it's expected of us?

As Sarah mentions in her article, Grazia is telling its readers to "be careful your dress sense doesn’t give out false messages". Well, to be honest I don't really care if some men think that wearing a tight dress makes me look promiscuous, because I'm not going to sleep with them anyway. It's not the outfit that makes a woman appear slutty, its her behaviour, and this particular slut* is incredibly choosy. Judge a book by its cover at your peril, gents. Maybe it's just the wording of the survey they've quoted that's bad though. I'm sure that women in knee-high boots make men think of sex just as much as skin-tight jeans on a pert male arse can do for us, but does that really make them assume the wearer is frequently engaging in sexual activity? I suspect there may have been one or two leading questions asked.

*By the way, a post about reclaiming the word slut will follow soon enough.

What were you doing, aged 25?

Last week the delightful Fauxred turned 25 and she posted on her Tumblr something about wishing she'd achieved more by that age. This struck me as slightly odd as, well, I've never thought that. I don't remember ever thinking "I wish I'd done more", mostly because I have never had a life plan, I guess. Not knowing what you want to do with yourself has one advantage of handily avoiding disappointment as you have no goals in the first place. Aged 25 I was pondering why, with it being the year 2000, I wasn't yet the proud owner of a flying car and was also getting ready for a move to a new city. One month in, I was living in a friend's spare room and had found a job. By May I had moved in with Topper. It was a year of change, and a hell of a lot of fun!

Part of many people's problem is seeing pop stars, actors, footballers and other (often minor) celebrities in the news and wondering how they came to be a millionaire aged 23. I think that judging your success/failure in life on what you see others having accomplished is a recipe for disappointment, especially if those people are young and working in the entertainment industry. Not everyone is Lady Gaga and, to be perfectly honest, most people will make hardly any progress towards their lifelong dreams for one reason or another. Most of us are like Tim and Daisy in Spaced, just bumbling along some kind of vague career path, but making plenty of friends and having lots of fun at the same time. However, I'm not saying that you shouldn't have goals. Life goals are fine as long as they're yours - just don't compare yourself to anyone else.

Surströmmingfest

Monday was a pretty strange one. One of my Swedish friends has been suggesting we all try surströmming for a while now but, with it being fermented herring, we were all a little cautious. I mean, fermented... that's like rotting, right? We were skeptical to say the least. Still, Magnus insisted, and so this summer we finally arranged a date for our surströmmingfest and invited some people over for an afternoon of Swedish food and drink. Topper made some tasty meatballs, Magnus provided the aquavit and various types of fish and bread, while Nic brought along all the berries in London to help us take away the taste if we dared to try the crazy fermented herring. After sampling some Swedish whisky and demolishing a delicious tub of mushroom pâté that Nic bought for us at Borough Market, we carried the dining table into the garden and made sure all the windows and doors were shut so that none of the reportedly very strong fishy smell would end up indoors.

The time was right for opening the bulging tin of doom. Magnus opened it near the drain and we all laughed as some fizzing liquid appeared from the punctured can and dribbled onto the paving slabs. At first, the smell wasn't quite as bad as we'd all feared but it didn't take long before we dared to get a little closer and the reality hit. Still, after we were shown how to get the meat off the bones and then add it to a sandwich of crushed potatoes, onions and tomatoes, a few people did start to get themselves a plate and have a go. Nigel, Rae and Tom all seemed to do rather well but, funnily enough, no one could finish what they'd prepared so the rest of us all got to taste some too. The general consensus was that, although it wasn't vile, it did indeed taste like it should have been put in the bin days ago. Strong, with an after taste of OMG. All seemed fine and so we continued to eat the tastier food, sing some songs and finish the aquavit, then have dessert, cigars and more alcohol. This is where things got a little bit weird.

The rest of the evening had one extreme casualty (we suspect a nasty reaction to the unusual food), and an awful lot of interesting behaviour. For a small party, it ended up being one of our most raucous. Don't think there'll be a next time.

UPDATE: I now have some photos up on Flickr from the afternoon.