H&M unisex fitting rooms means 12-year-old girls could rub shoulders with 55-year old blokes
ANOTHER week, another spot of H&M bashing.
Except, for once, it’s not royal deserters Harry and Meghan, who’ve shot themselves in the (non-binary) foot.
Nope, step forward the planet’s second largest fashion retailer, which is making all changing rooms gender-neutral.
In an effort to be “inclusive”, making “fitting rooms for everyone”, H&M’s new rooms have only a curtain for privacy and an 18in gap between floor and said curtain.
It means, very feasibly, a 12-year-old girl on the cusp of womanhood could be anxiously rubbing shoulders with a hairy-arsed 55-year-old bloke.
Or a pregnant woman self-consciously trying on a maternity dress next to a bearded, 6ft 5in rugby player.
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Of course, any normal, decent 55-year-old bloke — which is most — will likely be as horrified by the current situation as the impressionable pre-teen.
But, and there’s always a but.
In trying to safeguard a minority’s “rights” to self-express, H&M — and the stores that inevitably follow suit — are potentially leaving young girls, and women wide open to harm.
As one commentator observed on Twitter: “If companies allow unfettered access to young/solo females it doesn’t matter how well we teach our young people boundaries, it only takes a few seconds for a sexual assault to take place . . . ”
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It may sound extreme, but just look at recent examples of peeping Toms.
In April, a former Derbyshire police community support officer, James Land, admitted filming children naked in the changing rooms of a swimming pool.
And in February, Swansea Crown Court heard that a cretin called Paul Griffiths had secretly filmed a young girl undressing in the changing rooms of a holiday park swimming pool — video later discovered by his poor wife.
I could go on.
Voyeurs have been around since the dawn of time, only now they have access to smartphones and body-cams to record all their sordid, sick desires at the sweaty flick of a button.
To reiterate, the overwhelming majority of blokes are as horrified by these perverts as any woman.
But by facilitating criminal action, H&M is increasing the chances of it happening.
Primark is already gender neutral, and three months ago Monsoon was forced to apologise after a non-binary shopper, buying a prom dress, was asked to leave a unisex changing room.
Peeping Toms
In 2017 Topshop announced it was making all its fitting rooms “inclusive” too. Three years later Topshop went into administration.
Go woke, go broke.
Alas, this madness shows no sign of abating.
Last month BBC staff were told there were 150 different genders, while there are now approximately 713 recognised sexualities.
Soon shops won’t have room for clothes, it’ll just be endless fitting rooms, and a small, pathetic clothes rail.
Perhaps the greatest irony about H&M’s latest announcement — which, obviously, caused a massive backlash — is that the multinational retailer is a purveyor of fast fashion.
The company previously promised to pay 850,000 workers a living wage by 2018, a promise it spectacularly failed to meet, according to a 2019 report
With a revenue of £21billion, it makes cheap, fast, dispensable clothes — ones sewn together by people who can’t afford to buy them.
Perhaps H&M should get its own house in order before it starts dictating to the rest of us.
VAR, goal-line technology and Prozone are all well and good.
But it’s oddly refreshing to see England head football coach Sarina Wiegman going back to basics — and determinedly clutching her dog-eared notepad and pen during Lionesses’ games.
Some things, happily, will never change.
Forget size zero – catwalk model Jill is my size hero
FINALLY! The last taboo of the notoriously cut-throat world of fashion has been broken . . . step forward, Jill Kortleve.
While magazines, catwalks and social media have always loved a hollow-legged size zero, in recent years they’ve also embraced the odd, headline-grabbing, “Bo-Po” (body positivity) star – ie. a size 22 fatty.
Anything other than an actual, normal-sized woman with a bit of cellulite.
However, last week the Dutch supermodel wore Chanel’s coveted bridal dress in Paris and, shock horror, she’s a healthy size 12.
She’s also not 7ft tall, or ripped like a Victoria’s Secret model.
More Jills, please.
Let them eat confit
LITTLE demonstrates the rich/poor divide more tellingly.
Spam sales are surging in the US as the cost-of-living crisis hits, but so, too, is charcuterie – as the already-rich get richer.
To paraphrase Marie Antionette, let them eat confit.
Tackle costs crisis
FIRST out the blocks was Rishi Sunak with a suspiciously slick – and quick – “vote me” video.
Hot on his tail was Penny Mourdant, with her Little Britainesque pledge to make the country great again.
Now Liz Truss and Nadhim Zaharwi are huffing and puffing along the rails in this increasingly crowded field of would-be Tory leaders.
It’s ugly, unedifying stuff.
Candidates bargaining for votes behind the scenes and more interested in smearing their rivals than getting Conservatism back on its feet.
Has British politics ever been more Machiavellian?
After two years of Boris’s obfuscating, lies, bluffing and blustering, all any of us want, surely, is a straight-talking leader – one, ideally, with some answers. Not more questions.
Forget talk of corporation tax, national insurance and trans issues, the first man or woman to come up with a viable cost- of-living blueprint has my vote.
Keep pupils active
DEBATE over whether schools should cancel sports day in the midst of a burgeoning heatwave.
Nanny-state types obviously reckon it’s too sunny for the egg and spoon race.
Nonsense.
For millions of kids, sports day is the highlight of the school year. In some cases, only light.
It gives those who may not be academically blessed or musical a chance to shine.
And, at height of a crippling obesity epidemic, the very last thing we should be doing is stopping kids from being active.
Also, if youngsters can’t handle a spot of sunburn, how will they handle anything in adult life?
Tennis' double fault
WELL that all went swimmingly, then.
Moscow-born, Russian flag-bearing Elena Rybakina won her first Wimbledon title while, the following day, a jab-dodging Serb nabbed his seventh.
In a sort of tennisy Sophie’s Choice for the poor All England Club,
Novak Djokovic’s defeated opponent was, of course, a foul-mouthed, sulky toddler who also faces an allegation of domestic assault.
Presumably a member of IS will be clutching the Venus Rosewater dish come 2023.
Seamless.
I'm dud on my feet
ANDREW RIDGELEY has found love again and is apparently dating socialite Amanda Cronin.
Triggering.
Quite probably THE most spine-chillingly horrific moment of my career – of which there have been many, MANY – came care of the Wham! star.
I was at (s)wanky London private members’ club The Groucho, when a woman tapped me on the shoulder and casually asked me to “dance with her mate”.
Within seconds, the opening strains of Club Tropicana were playing and I was being frogmarched around the dance floor by a tall, balding older bloke: Andrew.
I literally do not, and cannot, dance.
Rhythm has bypassed every single member of my family. It’s genetic.
I told him as much.
“Of course you can dance, absolutely anyone can,” Andrew, cooed.
“It’s all in the hips”, he added.
For 20 painful seconds he fruitlessly lugged my frozen corpse around.
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“God, you really can’t dance, can you?”, he spat, and marched off.
At least I proved a point.