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Cinnamon-coated millennials and the Danish party frock

Millennials, snowflakes, the "youth of today". Call them what disparaging term you wish but the underlying truth is young people are being given a disproportionately hard time of it.

Perhaps no more so than any other younger generation coming up before them - there will always be the pervasive idea that how the elders did things, how they behaved, was the right, the only, way. But what is different for the young people who are growing up now compared to those who have gone before, is the very bottom of what has kept past generations rooted to the earth has been pulled out from underneath them.

The ability to earn a steady, reliable and sufficient wage, the opportunity to buy a permanent roof to put over their heads, the chance to purchase the little fripperies and delights which ease the toil of their daily lives.

These aspects of life which past generations have enjoyed guilt free, are now being picked up and used to beat young people around the head with. The little comfor…
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Cadbury Creme Egg-gate and the Fjallraven Kanken backpack

I can barely put pen to paper - and yes that is how I prefer to scribe - when it comes to Brexit recently without my words becoming outdated before the ink has even dried. What with all the turns and about turns over the whole sorry palarver.

Take yesterday (Wednesday) for example when we were informed plans were afoot to have an extended transition period after leaving the EU, to run way beyond the previously stipulated two years, and enable businesses and general Jo public to acclimatise to change for as long as was needed.

This was excellent news I thought, as, ever keen to find a loophole, I hatched out a mighty fine plan which would see us leave the European Union, in essence, in March 2019 and gambol happily into this transition period - where vitally we would still be part of the customs union and single market - and stay quite contentedly in this limbo state, forever.

"No", we would declare when questioned on whether we were yet settled enough to fully pull up the dr…

The Stella McCartney Eclipse super sneakers and the Queen on the Front Row

In her "Laura Loves" Vogue column this week, model and photographer Laura Bailey writes about her burgeoning passion for the Stella McCartney Eclipse super sneakers. She said she slipped her feet into the attention-seeking, silvery hologrammed footwear on a day last week when the first shy burst of spring emerged, and strangers stopped her on the street.

Laura said these were the trainers she had dreamt of when she was twelve. She also pledged that one day she would be the kind of old lady who wore this type of trainer, with vintage Chanel and a plait to her waist. Some things change and some things don't, she concluded.

That's the end state for all of us right there, I think. No one wants to end up a dried out old husk, draped in elasticated polyester. We want to be eccentric old birds with disco balls on our feet.

Speaking of which, the Queen surprised absolutely everyone - even those, it appeared, who invited her - when taking her place on the Front Row for the la…

When hero worship turns sour and the bonsai bucket bag

The fallout from the Oxfam sex scandal has taken an unexpected turn, tipping our opinion of a man upheld as something of a national inspiration completely on its head.
We were informed last week that Oxfam aid workers had hired prostitutes, some of them just children, whilst out in Haiti a decade ago. Thus followed revelations that this was just the tip of the iceberg of a far darker side of the charitable sector where sexual exploits and assaults worked as a sordid undertone to the much good these charities perform.
Enter Brendan Cox, husband of murdered MP Jo Cox, who for many has been an emblem of goodness, morality and superhuman strength in the face of unimaginable grief. However, the Oxfam sex scandal has led to the unearthing of previously smothered allegations, that Mr Cox had sexually assaulted several women whilst working for the Save the Children charity, and more recently in 2015, had assaulted a woman in her 30s at Harvard University.
As a result of the allegations he ha…

The friendship bracelet and the Time's Up dress code

The friendship bracelet. Three strands of brightly coloured thread plaited together with feverish fingers and tied onto a best friend's wrist. There it remains, slowly fraying, coated in equal parts sticky food residue and love.
A small, childish token of insignificant value which speaks a thousand words of comradeship, dedication and shared experience – dipped into sand pits, spaghetti hoops and Matey bubble baths. Taking into itself the laughs, tears and grazed knees of a child's friendship. Powerful as a talisman.
Then we have the BAFTAs. Yet another glittering awards ceremony with an all-black dress code. Actresses from film and television donning black gowns to stand together in support of the UK's Time's Up campaign – a rousing cry to end sexual harassment and abuse in the workplace.
This is becoming an all too familiar sight perhaps, following on as it does from the Golden Globes and the Grammy Awards, where the red carpet was equally awash with rustling black …