So I turned 30 recently and almost instantly I turned into my late mother. I wouldn’t mind this so much if it meant I could now make a wicked lasagne or calm myself down by stroking my hair and singing myself Joni Mitchell songs.
Unfortunately however my transformation into Betty von Cohen is instead manifesting itself in a penchant for ugly dressing gowns and a fondness for the phrases “sensible footwear” and “age appropriate attire”. If this continues I’ll soon find myself shopping at Sussan and drinking muguccinos. I love you Mum.
Upon turning the big 3-0 I decided it was high time I grew up and invested in the sort of things grownups invest in, such as health insurance, a good set of knives, and Foxtel. And now I wonder how I ever lived without any of them before. Not that I have needed to use the health insurance yet, but I could have and that’s what matters. I have however spent hours cutting stuff up with my shiny new knives (cabbages, whole pumpkins, an old boot) and watching more
Law and Order : SVU than can possibly be good for me. I have also discovered
Keeping up with the Kardashians and, more importantly, Khloé and Lamar. I know, I know, I would be disgusted with myself too if I were you. But then again if I were you I probably wouldn’t have watched these shows in the first place, and then I wouldn’t have experienced the genius that is Khloé Kardashian and my life would be all the darker for it.
Yes, that’s right, I have a girl crush on Khloé Kardashian and I don’t care who knows about it.
The illustrious and extremely high-brow Urban Dictionary defines a girl crush thus: “feelings of admiration and adoration which a girl has for another girl, without wanting to shag said girl; a nonsexual attraction, usually based on veneration at some level.” Examples given for using the phrase in every day conversation include “I have a girl crush on a girl from a band” and “Kristen Stewart is my girl crush”. Go ahead and use it in a sentence today. Also go ahead and check out Urban Dictionary where you can learn about related terms such as ‘girl DAVE’, ‘girl combover’ and ‘girl flavoured ring pop’.
Why am I girl crushing (it’s a verb because I say it’s a verb) on Khloé Kardashian/Odom? Let me name the ways. Considering this is a fashion column (all evidence to the contrary) I will focus on my sartorial reasons for mate’s-way love of the youngest Kardashian sister. However I must briefly mention that my platonic lady-boner for her is based also on her being a loud, fearless, fiercely loyal woman who says whatever she thinks no matter how many cameras are around to film it. She is also extremely funny and constantly makes fun of her sisters and mother who seem to take their ridiculous lives extremely seriously. Any girl who will wear a giant, felt, bear-shaped hat to a red carpet event just to embarrass her family is alright by me.
To be honest I am not overwhelmed by Khloé’s style, nor Kim’s or Kourtney’s that matter. It is without question that the KKKs always look perfectly polished and red carpet ready, but I feel they play it very safe. Blazers, jeans, “nice” dresses and sky high heels are the sisters’ staples, always finished off with shiny, flowing locks, thick mascara and the perfect shade of lipstick. They almost always look stunning, I just prefer a little more daring in a dress sense.
What the girls are good at is dressing for their figures. The Kardashian women are curvy. They are not fat, they are not even particularly big regardless of what some tabloids would have us believe. But unlike some celebrity women who claim to be bootylicious despite no evidence of ever having eaten a sandwich (I’m looking at you, Jessica Alba) Kim, Kourtney and Khloé have boobs and bums and hips and thighs. What’s more they have confidence, and that’s something even the thinnest of women often lack. In Khloé’s own words, “Everyone criticizes me about my weight all the time. It's easy for me to be like some other girls in Hollywood — not eat and become anorexic — but thank goodness I am strong-willed and secure with myself” (as told to
Life and Style). Of course it helps if you’re bullshit pretty and so rich you can buy an army of slaves to primp, preen and personal train you 24/7, but in the words of that font of wisdom, Ru Paul: “If you can’t love yourself, how the hell you gonna love somebody else”? Amen.
And so even though I am going to cop no end of flack from my friends for this here love letter to the girl who once spent six minutes on national television with her nipple exposed, I am here declaring my non-sexual fuzzy feelings for Miss Khloé Kardashian. I wish I knew how to quit her.