Venetia Rainey and Charlie Kirkbride
Spring has finally arrived. Following a long, cold, dark winter which saw the loss of all body shape in a cloud of warming wool, Miss C and Miss V were finally able to step out of their front door into a more temperate climate. A climate which seemed to foster the never-acceptable but forever self-perpetuating cut-off tights and skirt combo. A climate which also, unfortunately, necessitated the use of umbrellas, raincoats and Wellington boots. But Miss C and Miss V would have not just any old umbrellas, raincoats and Wellington boots, They desired the very best pluie-proof plastic paraphernalia, the kind that would repel rain and force it to bounce and shatter into tiny imperceptible little droplets of moisture. Power waterproof wear, if you will; the kind that fights your battles for you, and then folds back into a pretty necklace, like something out a Gareth Pugh catwalk show.
Alas, Mr. Pugh was entangled in yards of black wool and barbed wire, busy submersing himself in a particular gothic sub-genre for his next show, and therefore could not be contacted. So Miss C and Miss V found themselves once again on Shoppingate in York, conducting a search for the impossible.
The results were of notable interest. Transparency was a marked theme. Taking inspiration from the famed tale of the Emperor’s clothes, the idea seemed to be that by putting on a see-through tainted pink mackintosh, you would feel as if you were wearing something water-resistant, and that this would have the same effect as if you actually were. Strangely, this proved to be correct, although clothes that are real, tangible, and perhaps even opaque, are strongly advised to be worn underneath.
The rubbery material that such items are made of, however, led to an awkward and rather grating squeaking sound being produced upon movement, and it is for this reason, unless you enjoy being proclaimed a walking condom by all and sundry, that Miss C and Miss V would advise the postponement of such a purchase indefinitely.
