Author Archive
Shoreditch – How to blend in.
Posted by Phylis in Fashion Victims on April 29th, 2009
A lot of people crave the acceptance of the uber-cool Shoreditch set. So much so that they go to extremes to create the coveted look.
Some guys just aren’t content with carrying a day-glo man bag, rolling their skinny jeans up to show some schmexy ankle, and making sure the jeans are so tight and slung so low that their arse crack is basically free range.
This guy has gone one step further and tried to literally blend in with the other twats and their surroundings. He has dyed his hair tree-green, donned a shameful royal blue shell-suit jacket, the same colour as the car he is stood in front of, and is now basically invisible.
Thanks to Lisa for the photo!
The recession has hit Shoreditch
Posted by Phylis in Fashion Victims on April 27th, 2009
Twats adopt emergency measures as recession hits the coolest bits of Shoreditch this week.
These two Shoreditch ladeez made sure they looked spiffing by wearing their Shoreditch twat staples, the unnecessary scarf, oversized bags and cheap plimsolls, while walking past RBS on Bishopsgate, despite the fact that recession cutbacks have forced them to eschew clothing. They must have had to spend their last pennies on crap 80s-revival electronica music or leg warmers.
Unfortunately for the banker behind them, he is too busy using his Wankberry – probably to text people how great he is because he still has his job – and misses two naked chicks walking past.
Flock of Seagulls
Posted by Phylis in Fashion Victims on April 22nd, 2009
A mishap with a bottle of Sun-In and clippers
Where do seagulls go to die?
It seems one has broken free from the flock and has come to the Twat Stomping ground, otherwise known as Shoreditch, to hang up the capri pants he clearly stole off his big sister. He must be suicidal at least to wear this get-up.
Starting from the top we have a hair “style” Kajagoogoo would be proud of, a heavy winter coat covering a scraggy untucked shirt which has seen better days, teamed with the 2009-ubiquitous men’s crop trousers (they’re flipping capri pants!), a flash of sexy bare ankle, and heavy boots. Of course, all this is nicely set off by a de-rigeur plastic bag, no doubt full of crack or whatever Shoreditch twats like to carry about.
A sartorial catastrophe of epic proportions. And in case you were wondering, it is a well known fact that seagulls are never seen at sea, except when they fly out there to die. We think it’s about time this one caught the train to Brighton.