Don't Ask Don't Tell.

If someone asked you to conjure in your head an image of the armed forces, what would you think of? Strong, courageous men and women? Fighting side by side? United in their beliefs? Well then you would be correct. What you don't picture are the secrets hidden beneath the khaki. The unjust policies that still reside amongst the military. Because in America, if a soldier reveals in any way that they are gay lesbian or bisexual, federal law dictates that they have to be dismissed from their career.

This incredibly immoral rule means that not only do these young men and women have a physical war to deal with everyday, they're also battling with what they say and what they talk about. They're having to be someone they aren't whilst fighting for the country that restricts them. In the rules own words, a solider cannot talk about familial issues regarding homosexuality or their lifestyle since;
"It would create an unacceptable risk to the high standards of morale, good order and discipline, and unit cohesion that are the essence of military capability."

While most of us thankfully see no difference between the man leading his troops to safety, or the woman who saves her friend during a terrorist attack, America does. It differentiates on something that if any other job tried to do, the US government would not be able to ignore it.

While a number of cases have cropped up during rallies for the repeal of the law, some stand out more than others. One man fighting for the Navy had his E-mails hacked into revealing his sexuality. He was immediately dismissed and information was sent to his family explaining he was dismissed for being gay. His family were unaware of his sexuality up to that point. What part of Don't Ask Don't Tell did this man violate? Whilst he was dismissed; (a man who in his own words claimed he would work for the Navy again in a heartbeat), the forces continue to let in ex convicts and serial offenders.
Another young man described how he didn't struggle with keeping his sexuality hidden whilst serving in the armed forces and enjoyed his time with his comrades. Yet one day while on patrol he claimed a close friend of his turned to him and said that they should hang gay people from the trees so that they know they're not welcome.

Why America feels comforted by the fact that they have fighting for their country ex convicts and homophobes I will never know. At least a majority of us can take comfort in the fact that a bill for a repeal of Don't Ask Don't Tell has been passed, and the US Senate is going to vote in the summer of this year to hopefully, and finally, overturn this outdated rule.

Non Parlo L'Italiano

As some of you may or may not know I spent a fortnight of my summer this year in Italy. With some thought spared for France and Switzerland along the way. I am happy to report I have come back with no sunburn (despite the 38 degree heat). This if you don't understand is a very high achievement for myself.
After traveling through the rolling fields of France then through the green mountains of Switzerland (whereupon we found out the hard way that Switzerland does not have the Euro, and is instead still clinging on to its Swiss francs) we arrived at our destination; Bungalow Lago. Or what we English would call; Bungalow Lake. Blunt and to the point. I liked it.
The lake itself was stunning, crystal clear and an extremely welcome refreshment after a hard days shopping (yes in that kind of heat and strange language shopping can be hard!). Yet the whole lake experience was sadly ruined for me by what I will call here, Mostro Lago. Or quite simply; Lake Monster. While merrily kayaking one day across the largest lake in Italy I stopped for a break. When something surfaced feet from my plastic boat. I decided that with it being a murky brown color and the appropriate size, that it was a seal. I deemed this a nice animal to be so close to me; until the body continued to dive and a large greenish dorsal fin appeared on its back. My arm muscles screamed at me for days due to the speed I kayaked back to shore.
After my traumatic incident with the Mostro Lago the rest of the holiday passed smoothly (if you don't count Italian spiders that run at you in the middle of the night, electrocution with a laptop lead and creepy ghosts that turn out to be just eccentric homeless people). We visited Verona, a city that I fell head over heels in love with. If you're not already in the know, Verona is the setting for the famous power couple Romeo and Juliet, making it the recent star for the new Amanda Seyfried film "Letters to Juliet". One area of Verona seems to attract more tourists than even the giant amphitheater situated in it's centre (possibly one of the most incredible buildings I have ever seen). A low brick tunnel which leads to an ivy covered balcony. The house inside is supposedly where Juliet and her family lived, and tradition states that anyone who comes to visit should leave a gift for the doomed lover. Therefore every inch of wall space as far as the eye can see is covered in love letters, from all over the world. Flowers and even cigarettes adorn the walls with people either thanking for their luck in love or asking for help on their quest for it. You could easily spend a day just reading the worlds love life. As the day wore on, the arena lights began to light up the amphitheater and the opera began to start. The highest notes drifting over the stone walls that had been listening for centuries. We sat in the park for a little while, I decided that one day I would return, and we left, yet not without a reminder from Shakespeare that "There is no world outside the walls of Verona".

Another memorable pit stop was of course Venice. I am a sucker for anything that looks remotely gothic or Edgar Allen Poe, so I spent a majority of my time there getting lost in some of the incredible mask shops that were located around the city. My limited Italian found out for me that a majority of the masks had been hand made by the shop owner. Carved the way they have been for centuries. I brought a cat mask and then searched endlessly for an invite to a masquerade ball. I'm still waiting.
We took a Gondola ride through some of the back streets, passing ornate doors that led to water, though we were informed they were once the main entrances to buildings. Homes, apartments and restaurants loomed over us, some walls teetering precariously on eroded bases. Stone lion heads dipped their noses into the water, almost appearing to be drinking, while jesters and demonic faces leered at us overhead, safe from the water and subsequent erosion.
The most notable thing about Italy were the buildings. So many of them had had their faces painted with the most ornate designs, depicting Gods, painters, dancers and lions. Although they were all now fading heavily, the incredible artistry was evident still even to this day. I have never before been to a place where I could just stand there and marvel at a house.
We peppered the rest of the fortnight with sunbathing, visiting local villages and wondering what lived in the lake.
During our last few days we took a cable car up to the top of the mountains that had loomed over us for 14 days and took in our local surroundings from above. While my dad took photos, my mum found a place to sit and enjoy the view and my sister gazed around with the binoculars, I befriended the local cows and thanked the Lord there wasn't a Mostro Montagno. Or quite simply, Mountain Monster.

Sand, Sea and Sunburn

Before I go away for a real holiday where I can get really sunburnt, I went away for just the weekend to my friends beach house. Although just under an hours ride away it posed a welcome relief from; well, from home.
Arriving late Friday night, after a cramped and hot car ride we gave in to our instinct to cool down and jumped straight into the sea. However, this lasted about ten minutes before we ran shivering back up the beach, slipped and slid our way across the tiled floors and hastily unpacked our beach towels. At least we tried.
I personally am not a massive fan of the beach. I'd rather go somewhere in the countryside than to the seaside; but there is something about waking up to the sea every morning. Hearing the gulls and the waves and walking along the shore before coming back in for breakfast. Something so removed from everyday life. That is until you return and your flip flops which you placed so lovingly upon the beach are now floating away on high tide. You have no choice but to brave the freezing temperatures and look entirely ungraceful as you splash forward to retrieve your precious footwear. Yet we returned to find a cup of coffee and some toast waiting which we happily accepted.
Through all of the mosquito bites, and the sunburn and the salt and the sand; my favorite aspect of returning to the beach house each summer is for one reason. Midnight swims. Although I appear to be completely alone in this sentiment. Due to some untapped primal instinct (or the opening scene of Jaws), not one of my fellow beach companions enjoys the thought of going into the water in the dark. So they more than willingly let me go it alone. I personally love swimming through the ink black water, with the exception of that silvery slice of moonlight. Always to my left and always avoiding me when I try to swim in it. It's like the reverse of trying to jump on your own shadow. After some time of my fruitless game I'll get out and join my friends on the beach.
After more minor details such as BBQ's, sunbathing, volleyball and of course Ring of Fire, I left. Walked out the door and down the drive as red and white as any England shirt you may see. I was very proud until Sunday's game; which I'll leave for some more sport inclined Journo to comment on. Until then, I'm going to go sunbathe some more. Wish me luck.

Confessions of a Belgian Waffle

Today proved to be very unsuccessful in terms of going to the beach (cue shivering under beach towels whilst trying to shake sand out of the Dorito's. Said sand consequently gets in our eyes. All the while my consistent worry remains the fact that my hair is quickly blowing into it's stubbornly un-brushable state). Yet in terms of fashion, it's a quick reminder that the A/W collections will soon be upon us.
So far the sneak preview has included woolens; for example the all in one woolen shorts by Jil Sander and Prada's knee high woolen socks. The colors remain muted in homage to the minimalist look of the S/S collection. And the camel coat by the likes of Chanel keeps cropping up in various photo's and magazines. Through this mish mash of ideas will no doubt come a definitive look when the collections hit the high street around September. By then hopefully the rain will have a legitimate excuse to be beating down my window.

In terms of more traditional art forms; Alison Read deserves a look up. Her blunt, black and white print style ranges from the soft smudged charcoal appeal of a baby elephant, to a harsh linear crow. Specializing in animals she is most definitely on my radar. And consequently a few of her prints can be brought from a shop on Parchment Street in Winchester.


Lastly if you're not already in the know-this blog needs a read.

http://www.belgianwaffling.com/

And a thank you for inspiring this blog title.

Celebri-Tots and Diddy Designers

With Suri Cruise the new Celebri-tot and push up bra's the latest thing for under ten-year-olds, the question on every mothers lips lately is "are our little ones growing up far to fast?". The answer to that is of course debatable.

First and foremost, the clothes on offer to the children such as padded bikinis for the under five's, and heels for their barely developed feet are undeniably bad. Taken from experience after five years of wearing heels about five times a week-they're damaging! Or, if you're going to wear heels, slap on a pair of five year old Jimmy Choos, don't waste time on Primark! (In other words, only shove your child into heels if you can afford the surgery in years to come).
As for the push-ups and the padding; if the parents who buy these for their children want this to look normal, well then pad out the hips and the thighs while you're at it; chuck in some teenage kind of mood swing and watch how quickly their little girl disappears in front of their eyes. Which is essentially what their choice of clothing is doing to their child.

Because any normal little girl would gravitate towards the pink princess dress, the Sleeping Beauty outfit or the teddy bear. If the child herself is demanding the sexy underwear, any normal parent would be concerned. Children don't read the papers or watch the news. They don't read gossip magazines or follow Perez Hilton. The people responsible for wanting to look like Suri Cruise are the adults.

On the other end of the spectrum, in the same way a little girl would zone in on a pink dress, in modern day terms, that pink dress is a J'adore Dior t-shirt. The Minnie Mouse outfit is sparkly Hannah Montana get up and the teddy bear will be the new Princess and the Frog Wii game. None of these items exemplify sex in the same way kitten heels and make up do, they're just a reflection on the times we live in. Maybe parents shouldn't be fretting about what the children want to wear, but how much the bill will add up before they leave home.