There is a man named Yosarian Geller. He is fighting as a pilot in World War II. He wants to get out of the war. The only way to leave the war is to prove that you are insane. If you are indeed insane you don't know it and you carry on fighting in the war because...you're insane. If you are insane you cannot prove that you are insane as you do not believe in your insanity - thus believing you are in fact sane and remaining in the war because actually you are insane. And indeed if you are sane you cannot pretend to be insane as this is too rational for an insane person, and hence the flaw in your sane plan. Essentially either way you aren't leaving the war. And so Catch 22 is born.
I have probably told that in a really non-sensical way - google it. Joseph Heller doesn't really throw much light onto the situation, I vote old spark notes to help you out.
The main problem with the book was that the way it is written is so non-chronological and random that I would fall asleep trying to understand the ramble. So when it came to trying to read some of it the next day I would have no idea what I had read, go back and read it again, fall asleep through boredom and still be non the wiser. Catch22 was quite literally taking over my life.
And so I find myself in a Yosarian situation once more - a lot less serious though.
I applied for a position at Brides magazine as fashion assistant after my stint at Vogue and was so happy when I was called down for an interview, and then another with the editor-in-chief. Alas it was not meant to be and I lost out to someone who had more bridal fashion experience.
I couldn't be mad, it was totally fair. As far as bridal fashion goes in my world, I know only one thing: I don't want Wang. I want an Elie Saab or Marchesa dress - how very Indian bride of me.
However there is this annoying catch 22 with the world of fashion, you can't get experience unless you have experience and so the circle completes itself. And I am the first to admit I lack experience...I didn't do a fashion related degree (from St Martins), I can't draw (unless it a flower - I am GREAT at those), I didn't do Art at GCSE, I didn't do textiles further than year 9 and Geeta stitched all my projects that year as I just kept getting my finger caught in the machine and covering my tapestry bag with red blotches. I am not stylish (despite sometimes thinking that I am) I do not look like Gisele, I don't have razor sharp cheek bones (in fact I'm not even sure I have cheek bones) I am not edgy nor am I pedgy...(posh edgy), I am not cool, I don't shop at Farmer's markets (we're getting off track).
|Waaayyyy too edgy.|
BUT I know my Acne from A.PC. I can spot a Chloe Susanna boots a mile off, I could sketch look 1-8 of Balmain SS14 if that was a questions on Cranium, Alexander Wang doesn't look old enough to be driving let alone heading up his own brand and Balenciaga. Dolce and Gabbana NAILED their AW13 campaign (I'm trying to recreate the look, to very little success - Geeta asked me whether I was deliberately trying to look fat.)
|YES Dolce. (As if I just wrote that)|
I can tell you with 100% certainty that Karl Lagerfeld does not like fat people, I hope we don't cross paths any time soon that could be awkies, and that Marc Jacob has seriously got a lot better with time.
And most of all I know that Valentino is a GOD. Is this enough? No way. But is this the start? I hope so. Is it so much to ask for a column in a magazine?! Caitlin Moran if you're out there - hear my plea. Think of all the politically correct boxes that could be ticked if you hired me.
Indian - check.
Overweight (but shifting pounds) - check.
Doesn't wear socks with sandals - CHECK.
And so the hunt continues....
Fatty BB xxx