A Suit That Fits A Woman

Here at A Suit That Fits we've received substantial interest from women looking to buy men's suits. Of course we've been happy to oblige. There's nothing sexier, more mysterious, than a woman in a man's suit. When Marlene Dietrich donned the above number, eyes glowering above seductively wettened lips, she made an important statement about gender and the clothes we wear. Women, she said, need not let themselves be objectified to exert a powerful sexiness. Women can wear what the hell they like.

The man's suit is laden with authority. The mere act of wearing one is a masculine 'privilege' that gives men a level of power in society. The brilliance of gender-bending is not that it allows women to wear suits (there are plenty of women's suits out there), it's more the fact that it reveals gender to be an artificial construction capable of being mimicked and transformed. When people look at a butch lesbian and feel as if something's gone awry, it's because they're made aware of their subjection to a system of signs that empowers some whilst disempowering others. Rather than actually doing something about this, they deal with it in the easiest way possible: ostracize the problem-maker and stigmatize the lesbian. But a woman who dons a man's suit not only looks clever because she has the wherewithall to become a vehicle for a "Fuck you" message to the system, she also looks ultra-chic, her wardrobe having taken on resonances of meaning that go above and beyond the norm. Exposed, undermined, the veils of illusion lifted, the patriarchal structure loses its power and the seeds of revolution are sown. What this revolution will look like, nobody knows until it comes.

Join the gender-revolution. Visit A Suit That Fits.

Dark Outside

Outside it is dark. A thousand windows glitter over London. Coldplay's 'Kingdom Come' plays on the radio, reminding me of my ex's belief that if he waited for me I'd be... his. Sadness spreads through me. Soon I'll be shooting out those doors - into the night - onto the pavement - the Tube - towards Warren Street where I'm meeting friends. Will any of it shake this heavy sadness? In our lunch break today Jen and I went ice-skating in Broadgate Arena; we circled beneath an unblemished sky on a rink that resembled a frozen pond. I wore a jacket by A Suit That Fits to keep me warm. I felt incredibly free.

Now I'm waiting for the clock to hit 5.30 so that I can go out into the cold.

Selling, Suiting and Writing...

This morning I had to pitch an article to the Pink Paper in the hope that they'd be interested in the company I work for. I've never liked selling myself or my writing. It's one of the reasons I became a writer. When it comes to expressing myself, I need time to find the most effective words. If I was super-confident, why would I need to write at all? Writing is for people who have trouble expressing themselves - until pen is put to paper, that is, when everything starts to flow. It's why I feel such connection when I write - as if something's been unlocked inside me. My blood literally starts to tingle. I can feel it buzzing in my arms. For the period it takes me to complete the piece, my mind is wholly absorbed.

Having to sell myself is an unavoidable nuisance. If you don't make people notice you, you simply don't get noticed. The same can be said for A Suit That Fits. It's my job as Junior Writer to get this company noticed. If I had to do it by speaking to people, I'd be the crappest sales rep in town. So thank God I can do it in writing... The difficulty comes when I think I'm a writer before I'm a seller, that I can only write effectively about what I feel inside. Luckily, A Suit That Fits make it easy. Not only are they the most exciting new garment house in London, their suits as exquisite as their marketing stunts are crazy, they understand the power of a few carefully-chosen words.

Visit their website here.

Islington, Autumn and a Dream

For a change it wasn't hard to get out of bed this morning. The clocks went back a few days ago so my room was flooded with light. My room is bright even on grey days (the creamy walls and big, big windows create a suntrap above London) but this morning it was literally beaming. I'd woken from a dream in which friends from various walks of my life had gathered at an awards ceremony in a trendily-converted warehouse. My school-friend Jax looked strangely anaemic in a slinky, silver-grey dress, while another, Ant, played Tori Amos on an enormous grand piano. A lovely girl called Rachel (the daughter of my mother's friend) was giving some kind of speech, while a new acquaintance (a handsome banker with a sexy French accent) kept morphing into my ex and back again. It was odd to see so many people from different parts of my life gathered in the same room, but stranger still to wake in a dazzlingly sunlit room and realise with disappointment that it was nothing but a dream.

After showering and dressing and leaving my flat, I had to walk through Islington to pick up a parcel from the Royal Mail. The squares were literally a sea of leaves, and out in the open of Islington Green, the sunlight fell through the yellowing leaves and left me watery-eyed. The wind that whistled through the iron fences merely added to my discomfort; and as I stood, squinting at the bus-stop, I couldn't help noticing the clear blue sky, the coldness of which seemed to chill me through. If I only had a jacket from A Suit That Fits I'd be warm whilst appreciating autumn, I thought. I'd choose a fine brown pinstripe and wear it in keeping with this dying season. In the meantime, I thought, I'll shiver in the light... while the leaves fall down around me.

This blog was made possible by A Suit That Fits, who'll help you add some 'autumn' to your life.

The above painting is by Alex Cave. To buy similar paintings or to see more of his work click here.