When it comes to feminism, I’ve never been the bra-burning kind. Equality is all very well, but it’s no excuse not to brush your hair.
Emancipation and exfoliation are not mutually exclusive: it is perfectly possible to make it in a man’s world without looking like one.
Occasionally, though, something comes along that stirs my inner Germaine Greer.
Something so outrageously sexist it would make Mad Men’s Don Draper blush. A proper bottom pinching, ‘fetch-me-a-cup-of-tea-love’ moment.
Something like Victoria’s Secret’s so-called fashion show.Well, since the primary purpose of feminism is sex without responsibility, it seems that the Victoria's Secret show is an inevitable consequence.