WELLY ANGEL

What would Deirdre do?

ADVICE FROM DEIRDRE TARRANT

HOLD THE BABY

My mother is an anti-vaxxer, together with several other members of her family. Am I right or wrong to not want her, or them, to be anywhere near my new baby?

Over covid, Newlands

My gut reaction is to be concerned and say no, but a rational response more relevant to current conditions is probably to mask up, keep a distance, and be outside if possible. Hard, but covid is very prevalent and a real risk. A new baby is a very precious and vulnerable. No Granny hugs for a while!

HARD TO COPE

We have a family holiday house shared and enjoyed by three generations but managed by us, the owners. How much should be reasonably expected from family members to share in the outside work required to manage the place?

Whanau time, Newtown

This seems a no-brainer. Surely you should share evenly, in terms of either financial contributions or DIY input? Definitely call a meeting, sit down, and agree on a plan. It is not about how much you each use it – it is about maintenance and responsibility. There are many options but agreeing and doing are the key. The users could contribute to a fund or help in a practical way but the owners ultimately have responsibility and need to make the plan. Onto it! NAKED ON THE BEACH

I swim often in the sea and always change (discreetly) into my togs, at the beach. Obviously I’m fine with this, but a friend commented recently upon my habit, and others exclaimed that it was indecent to get changed in public. Is it?

Speedy stripper, Seatoun

If you are happy, that is all that counts. Sounds like you have it sorted, so just carry on and enjoy your swims. I have never mastered changing into togs on the bank of a river – jealous!

YOUNG AND INTENSE

I have a young friend who thinks I like poetry and keeps inviting me to attend performances and offering and loaning me books. I don’t care for poetry and know I should have made it clear earlier. How do I now say so and retain the company, which I thoroughly enjoy?

Flakey, Island Bay

You do not say how young your friend is but this sounds like a lovely relationship. Try to show interest, in other words, be adventurous and talk about books and writing that you are discovering. Take a journey, and see if broadening the palate is something you can do together. Keep some poetry in there – a bit of magic is always good! Don’t burst the bubble.

If you’ve got a burning question for Deirdre, email angel@capitalmag.co.nz with Capital Angel in the subject line.

Heroin chic is back

BY MELODY THOMAS

Every generation waits with horror for the return of terrible trends from their youth, be they ’80s shoulder pads and perms, ’90s Uggs and skirts over pants, or the super low-cut jeans and belly chains of the 2000s. But no fashion comeback has ever been more unwelcome than one announced late last year by a handful of publications we won’t do the service of naming: the return of “heroin chic.”

There’s been a bit of discussion about the problematic nature of the term heroin chic, but just so you know what we’re talking about (or in case you repressed the trauma of the first time round), it was the look of the early ‘90s: every supermodel looked like a half-starved orphan with wide, glazed eyes ringed by smudged makeup, and collar and hip bones so sharp they threatened to puncture their pale skin (the look updated to the slightly less haggard but still uberthin fake tan version of Paris, Lindsay, and Christina).

Because the language of body positivity was yet to be invented, let alone absorbed by the mainstream, those of us who were teenagers at the time lacked the tools to recognise the messaging for what it was: fashion’s eternal fatphobia and dangerous diet culture, dressed up in a barely-there slip dress. This was the decade where tabloid magazines made fortunes from cruelly-captioned paparazzi shots of celebrity women proclaimed too fat (or too thin – turns out there was no “right” way to be), where anyone who was “plus size” (like Alicia Silverstone and Drew Barrymore, apparently) was encouraged to avoid colour in favour of the “slimming properties” of black, and even Jennifer Aniston was deemed too fat to be on the cover of Cosmo.

The last decade has been far from perfect: but we have come a long way. Catwalks and advertisements have employed more diverse models, fashion sizing has become more inclusive, the word “fat” has been reclaimed as simply another adjective, rather than one meant to shame, our “plus size” icons are actual fat people, often in brightlycoloured clothes, being hot and cool and unapologetic about who they are.

White supremacy, fat shaming, misogyny and TERFdom still, sadly, exist, but to some degree humanity has got better at not shaming people for having the audacity to live their lives in the bodies they were born in. Hurrah!

And now along comes a handful of “writers” from online magazines courting controversy to boost a dwindling readership, proclaiming that it’s time to shrink ourselves again. Well guess what, assholes, you don’t get to decide that our bodies are out of fashion! You don’t get to tell us that super-skinny is sexy. Because as Jameela Jamil has pointed out, it’s not “naturally slim” that’s back. It’s not an “athletic build.” It’s heroin chic. You want us sick-looking. Weak. Non-threatening. We’ve been building up too much power: the fatties, the non-binary and trans babes, the disabled cuties, the indigenous hotties, and the stunning queers, and you want to put us back in our place again.

But we know better now. We know what it’s like to move our bodies from a place of self-love rather than self-hatred. To use gym memberships for the purpose of growing our muscles rather than shrinking our fat. To feel the breeze on our dimpled thighs, our chubby bellies, our bare, fat arms. We know every body is a beach body! We know there isn’t one kind of sexy! We know fashion is for everyone! The veil has been lifted; and while we didn’t know any better the first time round, we sure as shit do this time – and it’s not going to fly.

So nice try, really, you nearly got us. But we’re not going back to being starved little waifs too weak to stop you stomping all over us. All bodies are good bodies, and all bodies deserve love and respect. And if you don’t agree with that… I was going to say you can kiss our fat arses. But assholes don’t get treats.