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Scotsman.comSkinny on my dream jeans.. nosh before Posh (sarah michelle gellar mention)
Wednesday 12 July 2006, by Webmaster
MY heart skipped a beat, my palms got all sweaty and I almost drooled when I saw THE most gorgeous thing ever. OK, so it was a pair of white jeans, but not just any old jeans. No, these bad boys were the Rolls-Royce of the denim world, and with the unmistakable embroidered crowns on the back pockets I instantly fell in love with a pair of Victoria Beckham-designed Rock & Republic jeans.
Now, with a price tag of £199 normally I’d pass these jeans by with a lingering stroke. But when they managed to wangle themselves into the Harvey Nichols sale for £119, I couldn’t resist a try-on. Click to learn more...
As I picked up one of the few remaining pairs, rushed into the changing room planning how, if I used an interest-free credit card, I could maybe just about afford them, it all went wrong. They wouldn’t fit. No sharp intakes of breath, no jumping and pulling at the same time, no sheer will would get these jeans above my thighs. And the size bigger was just the same.
Now, I’m no heifer, but I suddenly felt the size of a whale. A blue whale. A pregnant blue whale.
A sales assistant took pity and let me into a secret. "These jeans are really small-made," she almost whispered. "Many women just can’t wear them. I mean, it’s Victoria Beckham who designs them and she takes a 23-inch waist."
So how does Victoria Beckham, socialite queen and girl-about-town manage to keep her teeny, tiny child-like waist when she’s always out at the latest restaurant with her hubby, quaffing the finest champagne at the sleekest bars, or nibbling on the most unusual canapes at the newest designer shop launch?
I always start off with such good intentions but there doesn’t seem to be anywhere in Edinburgh that serves lettuce leaves, sugar-snap peas or grapefruit segments (Victoria’s snacks of choice) as bar food - I thought to myself as I polished off a large bowl of salted popcorn and cheese bites at the Canny Man’s.
What about some nice slices of cucumber or carrot sticks instead of the fattening nuts, I asked in another bar, where I was offered some calorific olives. Nope, not a chance, it seems, although one George Street style bar which shall remain nameless offered me a saucer of those slightly stale lemon and orange slices, usually kept aside for drinks.
However, at Amicus Apple, in Frederick Street, the barmen seem to take a woman’s physique into consideration as a Hendrick’s gin and tonic comes with two large slices of cucumber instead of a mealy, inedible slice of lime.
And at the Hudson Hotel, when I asked nicely I got a big fat stick of celery dunked in my Bloody Mary. So I suppose if I ordered enough G&Ts or vodka and tomato juice, I could snack myself into a pair of Posh’s jeans. However, I do value my liver so I abstained.
I’d thought I’d hit the answer though at a corset evening at lingerie boutique Boudiche. Stalking Susi Henson, of Eternal Spirits Corsets - who minimises the waists of celebrities such as Dita Von Teese, Sarah Michelle Gellar and Scarlett Johansson - I thought the four inches a designer corset apparently shaves off the waist would make me even smaller than bony Beckham.
And when she got me into a corset, I did indeed turn into a living, walking, talking egg timer with an ample chest, tiny 22-inch waist and curvy hips. But such inventions cost. About £200. So to wear a pair of Victoria’s jeans I was looking at a Victoria-sized budget.
So it was back to the diet. And when my mate Laura and I went out for dinner together to Est Est Est, I was prepared to nibble on some lettuce leaves and think of Rock & Republic. But when our drinks and olives and homemade bread arrived they looked so good, that with mouth watering and belly grumbling, I decided to stuff it... my face that is, with three carb-laden courses.
Who gives a price tag about Victoria’s tiny white jeans anyway? I hear Topshop make a cracking pair with elasticated waists. Love is the answer
HURRAY for Love Island. I may not be going on holiday this summer nor do I have a doting man, so at least I can curl up in the comfort of my own home and watch all those other lovelorn singletons try to pull. Yes it’s tacky, yes it’s another reality TV series, but who cares. Bring it on.