Air Jordan 10 (X) The New Black Is... Well... Blac

[realityp]

What luck we have this season to find our old friend officially back. How lovely it is to see it back with its old friend azure blue. Plum and winter white are on offer for the more neutral among us and red strikes the fancy in everyone. Ladies, it is going to be a beautiful winter!
Rumour has it that black goes with everything. Perhaps there is some sadly accepted truth to that rampant rumour since it seems to be a widely accepted norm, but I have found that there is a good chance we have all been mislead. One can easily challenge this age-old regulation of fashion simplicity by looking into a mirror while sporting black pants combined with a lime green top. Forgive me gentle readers, but if I am to be honest I must tell you LV men jean, the combination is simply indescribably nauseating. Please honour the beauty of lime green by paring it with grey, turquoise, or forest green or just the right shade of blue. One must not dishonour colours such as lime green or the black by forcing them to be seen in public together. Fashion is the one place it is completely acceptable and advisable to segregate on the basis of colour. Feel free to carry a eucalyptus bag while wearing grey trousers with a pale pink sweater. Adding a scarf which beautifully gives permission by marring the three colours will make any lady, who is able to wear pink gracefully, look simply smashing.
Toilets may have improved a bit since then (though not in France), but taking a pee is still fraught with more unseen dangers for us girls than exploring the uncharted rain forests of the Amazon.The first thing my mother taught me was to grab a handful of toilet paper and wipe the seat. Then Air Jordan 10 (X), she'd carefully lay strips of toilet paper to cover the seat. Lesson two was learning to assume 'The position'. This required carefully balancing over the toilet in a squatting position without actually letting any of your flesh make contact with the toilet seat. The flaw in this strategy was that by the time I was ready to pee, my thigh muscles had given up the struggle, I'd overbalance, land heavily on the seat and the trickle of wetness down the inside of my leg meant we'd have to go home to change my knickers.
What a relief to see our old favourite in the spotlight again for the winter 2005-2006 fashion season. As we breathe that sigh of relief one must surely ask herself the obvious question: has black ever really left us? Was navy or brown ever the new black? As fashion designers tempt us to delve into colourful new worlds, aren't we ever true to that wonderful absence of all colour? Or is black the presence of all colours? Whichever scientific or philosophical approach you chose to follow, one thing is certain: black is officially back! In case you didn't already know.
So, what can the elegant lady of the coming season wear with that black which is back? The answer is basically anything which won't make you look like a peacock wearing her mourning clothes. Black is so elegant on its own. Save black for when you feel elegant, or understated and confident...or...fat. Black looks wonderful on its own, with toast, cream or with any shade of grey. Don't be afraid to pair it with navy. If the combination didn't stop Yves St. Laurent, it shouldn't stop you either. Just be careful not to wear it in a way which appears to be a mistake: you know what I mean, the manner of combination which leaves all those who gaze on your person wondering if you got dressed with the lights off. If you wear black trousers and a navy top, just be sure to balance the look with something black near your face which says "I meant to do that". Another elegant way to soften black is to pair it with a chocolate brown; this combination lends a day look to a night-time colour.
I don't know if you have ever tried to hold your bladder in for four hours in a car travelling at speeds in excess of 120 miles an hour, but it may explain why my mother had the thigh muscles of an Olympic athlete. Those of you who have never been to France may think my mother was a bit picky, but then you've probably never had to squat over a smelly hole in the ground whilst clinging for dear life to two rusty Air Max 24/7, iron chains in a damp cellar, illuminated by a single light bulb dangling from the ceiling that had last been changed during the German occupation forty years earlier, while a cadaverous male attendant reeking of garlic politely enquires if you would like another sheet of newspaper.