Tuesday 22 May 2012

'Classist' in Chelsea


So something has come to my attention. Prepare yourself, because for a minute, stuff's about to get real high-brow. Don't worry- I'm telling you it with the confidence that you can handle it. 

It starts off with me bludgeoning out any sense of reality I have left, by watching E4's Made in Chelsea; see, I told you. One of the dead-eyed girls had an altercation with another, and it was pretty funny. Like many others, I often find half the hilarity from this kind of mind-numbing occurrence comes from the response on twitter during and after, so as I blithely cast my eye over the variously directed death-threats my attention was drawn to some twitter whining; twineing if you will. The twiners in question were musician professor green and his reality tv sort Millie Mackintosh. They've had it to the back teeth of the twittersphere taking the micheal out of the 'class divide' in their relationship. 


'I find it really interesting how it’s spoken about because people are so quick to point out the difference in class but I’ve always believed that your class is dependent on how you treat people, not your financial situation,'  Says Pro Green. Monsieur Green hails from Hackney and his Mrs from Chelsea; as her claim to fame so clearly states, and they're like totes worlds apart.

His observation is, I believe correct, but not exactly ground-breaking. I can tell you with the utmost confidence, that this is not the first posh girl that's fallen for a boy with a neck tattoo, who grew up in a council house that cost as much as her first pony. And it won't be the last. 

Nevertheless its the stuff of tabloid fodder- the heiress and her bad-boy; they lap that stuff up. In the grand scheme of things, it's nothing surprising, and in the real world it's certainly nothing new. You can't fight biology; human attraction is chemical, and their relationship is no different. In their case, their 'heritages' are bus-rides away (or a black cab ride; whichever mode of transport you favour) My parents, along with millions of other Londoners from mixed heritages, are from different continents, and I don't hear them whining. Oh right, professor Green has something to say on that too:

'If the difference were race people wouldn’t be so quick to point it out – it’s still prejudice isn’t it? I find it weird that’s it such a big thing.'

Yeah, people were quite quick to point it out until relatively recently, but your memory's short, so we'll let that one slide. But hold on Stephen; as Ms Macintosh sultrily refers to you, I think these (lets be honest; relatively light in terms of 'prejudice') jibes might not stem from your grime artist exterior and tough guy tatts, but  in fact from the whole reason your lady friend is notable in the first place. Millie Macintosh, along with every other person on 'Made in Chelsea'  has aligned herself with a piece of programming that directly focusses on 'class', in an era where the very notion was beginning to seem irrelevant.
The whole premise is that these people are 'made' in the royal borough, have inheritances, good pedigree, perfect lighting and unspoken (barely) superiority. The watcher buys into the fact that these people are wealthier than the average, better spoken than the average, and at a tangible advantage to the average Hackney pleb. 

It's all relatively light-hearted; it's e4, not an ideology akin to the third reich. "Some scenes have been created for your entertainment" :It's not all real, its just a bit of a laugh; to club the banality out of a Monday evening. But the twitter responses to a relatively innocuous disagreement that I touched upon earlier, do show that people are aware that the viewer is very much placed at the bottom looking up. People's reaction to the social minutiae of these people is different to other reality TV. Their opinions are shaped by the fact that they present their lives as being better than theirs. The knee jerk twitter yobbo rationalises that these people have so much money that they don't deserve to have problems. Everything that goes wrong for them is self-inflicted. Down to their snobbery or snootiness. Perhaps this is prejudice, but every detail of the production encourages this way of thinking. 'Made in Chelsea' gets viewers, but not necessarily sympathisers. 

The British love an underdog, and Made in Chelsea is the antithesis of this, these people pointedly portray themselves to ooze a certain brand of success and prosperity. Simply by agreeing to be on a programme like this Millie's nay-sayers, I believe see her as clambering up onto a high horse. Now she's asking to be let back down to live as the plebs live, and it won't be an easy journey. 

She's caught the eye of a regular Joe, a boy from Hackney prospering from a less than favourable background, articulate and warm; ironically exactly the kind of underdog Britain loves. No wonder Millie wanted a break from the Chelsea set, but living your life on TV leaves you open to conjecture, and by doing something so far from everything you've been urging us to believe about you; you are going to come up against criticism.

I can understand that Professor Green is surprised by the reaction his new relationship is receiving from a section of the press and public. He just met a pretty girl and went through the motions, but comparing the reaction to something like mixed racial relationships, with its thickly weaved cultural and social significance I believe is misguided. I'll take my chances and say he's experiencing predjudice-lite; specifically commissioned by e4.

I've seen Millie use the word 'classist' whilst briefly commenting on the subject, in between posting pictures of her bronzed bod. I think when it comes down to it, this over-simplistic nomenclature is just her wielding a clumsy fist at a disillusioned public whom she originally hoodwinked into believing she was something she wasn't. 

When it comes to her It doesn't make her a bad person, but it shows the fragility of fame for fame's sake when it comes to the public's opinion. And when it comes to him, he's a white guy from Hackney, making urban music that's making the transition into the mainstream. He probably can't believe that this is a situation in which he's coming across prejudice. 

Friday 11 May 2012

Union Jack- Who do you think you are?


Oooh, it's such an exciting time to be British aint it. Oooh the olympics. Oooh the Jubilee. Street parties, days off work, cheese and pineapple on a stick, bunting and booze. Don't it just make you all warm inside? Well no actually, but that's just me.

I'm worried about tube delays and rising prices. Gormless tourists and crowbarring the idea of patriotism into every piece of useless ephemera; but don't mind me, I'm just a Londoner; we're sour it's what we do. I'm sure the rest of the country is thrilled at the prospect.

However, when it comes to vacuous stuff like fashion, and design on a broader sense, I find all this British hoo hah actually quite fun. The main thing I like about the queen is when she gets her glad rags on. I like the aesthetic of a British souvenir (aside from an I love London jumper; which all clearly need to be burnt) The sparkle, the pomp and ceremony; appeals to the magpie in me. Its bizarre and lol and British.

 But I do feel like people are taking one thing too far. And that's the union jack.

One good thing about all the BRITISH things happening this year is that I do feel normal, decent British people have been able to reclaim our flag from the racists. The pesky BNP did a bit of re-branding to a flag that is pretty good in the iconic stakes. Racists are pretty good at that; just look at the swastika. For ages those stripes represented the bitter aftertaste of the British fish and chips; not the fried delights of the main meal. But perhaps with Kate and Will as our new representatives and all these dates in the diary, being British means something better (at least for now) and red white and blue is back in favour. Actually to say it's 'in favour' is a massive understatement; it is bloody everywhere.

If your buying your lunch in M&S and the content of your sarny is slightly British (ie. contains cucumber) it's emblazoned with it. Not to mention if you fancy some strawberries. If you open a newspaper, look at an advertisement, turn on your television, oh yes; it's there. Its there, but it's not there. Its meaning is getting watered down. It's become twee; executed in muted pastels, printed on crafty cushions and hung from bunting. Without trying to sound like the racists that squirrelled the flag away to their dingy dwellings  in the first place; that's not the way I see our flag.

For me, the last time I saw this piece of design used successfully and appropriately to personify the country it represents was stretched across Geri Halliwell's boobs at the 1997 Brit awards. Now that depicted a britain I recognised. She literally may as well have been on a seaside postcard. That union jack summed up  page 3, sugary tea and chips from the paper. The pervieness, the gaudiness, the tack. As much as we try to represent a Britain that's got it's shit together and is prepared for the world to bowl into it's capital for sports day, really we're all just in it for the piss up. Whether you're from the royal borough or moss side; if your British, you're more likely than not brassy, pompous or batshit cray or all of the above, and we've got a suitable flag to prove it.

It's nice that waving around a conglomeration of colours and lines doesn't mean you hate immigrants as much as it did, but I vote we save the flag for things that really represent this crackpot of a nation. Leave the bunting up, but find another way to advertise clotted cream.