beauty

You can tell a lot about a woman by looking at her wardrobe. Madonna is having a Big Bird moment.

We had this debate a while back when Gwyneth started dressing sexy. Now it’s Madonna’s turn to confound us with her wardrobe. A piece in the Daily Mail suggests you can tell a lot about a woman’s headspace by what she wears. I agree with this wholeheartedly. She also says one look at Madonna lately would suggest she’s in a DARK place. Possibly, one with no mirrors…..

In the months surrounding the break-up of her marriage, she has
veered wildly between dressing down  –  not caring one iota that she
looks like someone who keeps all her possessions in a supermarket
trolley  –  and dressing ludicrously ‘up’ in a succession of wildly
inappropriate designer outfits.

There is nothing nonchalantly chic or stylish about what she wears any more. It is as though she no longer knows who she is.

In May, she was exposing her Ashtanga yoga-honed limbs in corsets,
lace-up boots and fishnet tights or shuffling around in shapeless
sportswear.

As the months flew past, she donned ever larger shades and more elaborate baseball caps.

The lipstick has become redder and more severe; the hair bigger and more rigidly sprayed.

Last week, she left her New York apartment in red lacetrimmed
bloomers, a hoodie, ski sunglasses and undone strappy sandals. She
resembled someone who, rather than being flanked by bodyguards, should
have been accompanied by a concerned social worker at each elbow.

You can clearly see from these schizophrenic sartorial choices that being a style icon is getting to be too much hard work.

Sometimes
it’s all too tight, sometimes too high fashion (such as the green furry
jerkin, fishnet tights and lime bondage platforms she donned earlier
this month at a party held by Gucci at the Plaza in New York, an
ensemble that merely made her resemble Robin Hood).

I think the reason Madonna still insists on wearing ridiculous
Adidas sweatpants, even for the launch of her Hard Candy album in April
this year, when she teamed them with lace-up boots and a black lace
top, is that she is trying to cling on to her overaerobicised past,
when really she should just say: ‘Blow it, I’m going to sit in an
armchair and drink Harvey’s Bristol Cream.’

I would have
admired Madonna a bit more if she had gone the Grace Kelly route and
honed a pared down, elegant style of her own rather than donning every
catwalk trend on offer just because she can, a predilection that is
just as ageing as over-exercising.

Take, for example, the
prim, sheer Chanel dress with a bow at the neck she recently sported
–  Madonna is most definitely not a ‘bow’ sort of woman. Why didn’t she
choose something from the elegant Prada collection?

Who
knows what was the final nail in the coffin of her marriage, but I
imagine Guy Ritchie would just stare, open-mouthed, at her crazy
outfits every time they left the house.

There is nothing
that knocks your confidence more than a divorce. Madonna might have new
boyfriends, but that only proves she is suffering from low self-esteem.