“Condie is the consummate power-dresser. Every pant suit – whether by St John, Armani or Versace, in black, navy or charcoal grey – is immaculate, no matter how long she has been crouched memorising briefs as she is whirled by plane from one end of the earth to another. She is said to work out at 4am each morning; certainly the belly is flat and the stride purposeful, no matter how long she has been cooped up in a plane. Her hair is regularly beaten into submission. Right now she is sporting a ringer for the Michelle Obama bob, which itself is a version of the Jackie Onassis big hair flick. Occasionally, Condie lets herself be seen in knee-high, high-heeled jackboots, to the unspeakable excitement of the armies of lackeys that follow her about. She wears dark lipstick, highlighting the expressiveness of her eyes and the occasional dazzle of her smile. Otherwise her subfusc is relieved only by the milky radiance of her power pearls.”
This is the age of power pearls – and no one exploits their potency better than Condie Rice, by Germaine Greer, The Guardian, August 25 2008 (via)
If Germaine is going to write Michelle/Condi or Jacki/anyone porn, then just do it and don’t clutter up the pages of newspapers unsuspecting readers might stumble upon.
I mean I liked “The Female Eunuch,” but I also liked “The Fountainhead,” and didn’t take either of them very seriously.
Mailer, Greer – the Sixties, they’re all over me.