Naughty Noughties

I plan to start the New Year as I mean to continue - in Chanel, clasping to my heart my new delicious purple Liberty 2010 diary. I've never felt grown up enough to warrant a beautiful diary, but my new journal, all smug in it's regal leather jacket, is just the ticket to see me out of the noughties. Whilst others advocate now is the time to look forward, the tag line 'New Year, New You' makes me heave. January is the time for sales, failed resolutions and bitter weather without mulled wine redemption. January is dire. Even the January Vogue that arrived on my doorstop a good few weeks ago looked like it had begun it's diet; thin and detoxed of all last years fashion faux pas, it paled in comparison near it's September cousin. Still, there's no better time than now to cast a cynical eye over the frolics of 2009, and the end of a decade.

The year that saw the death of Michael Jackson and the rise of Obama also shot Lady Gaga well and truly into the firmament. The ever invasive and controversial spiral of reality television hit a cataclysmic wall with the death of Jade Goody; anyone left questioning how far is too far needs their head screwed tightly back on. And the continuing production of gadgets and technological delights came so thick and fast that even a consumer with the highest rate of retail metabolism could suffer indigestion.

And so to look back with haute couture hindsight at noughties fashion. The birth of the WAG and the fail safe Ugg (don't knock them til you've tried them; I used to think they were Satan's footwear for those who had bypassed style, until freezing toes screamed their thanks in snug sheepskin!) saw even the discerning tackle casual attire at it's most lax. Juicy Couture tracksuits... Need I say more. We wanted to be thin, then fat, then thin again, then curves were in whilst secretly inside we idolized thin thin thin. The size zero debate rages on, with enough comings and goings to compete with the tide. But in the perimeters of accessories, all we wanted was XXL; big sunnies, big heels, big handbags. Investment bags replaced IT bags (I always knew Chanel would triumph, forever and always, the 2.55 epitome!). Luella crumbled, McQueen skulls skulked round every coquettish neck and high street collaborations with designers pulled the sinews of the fashion world even tighter together. We enter a new decade with the circumference of the circle of fashion trends and patterns minimized. I already think the whole contraption has folded in on itself, spewing out every furore there is. Everything is in, and everything is out. Marvelous? Perhaps.

And me? The noughties has seen me enter and leave my teen years, and long may it be remembered. The blog has seen a makeover already for 2010, even though it is still at the tender age of 2 months old. Enjoy whatever you may be doing on this New Years Eve - and be sure to check back in the New Year!