Wonky-banana haters set sights on shoes

Not-so-glossy women’s title Frankie creamed the competition at last

week’s Australian Magazine Awards (AMAs). The indie craft bible

took out the coveted Magazine of the Year award, as well as trumping

its luxury rivals Harper’s Bazaar and Vogue Australia to win the

Women’s Fashion category.

Published by Gold Coast company Morrison Media, Frankie has held a

firm place in the heart of craft-loving Australians since its first

issue hit stands in 2004. It’s thick matte pages serve up a massive

bi-monthly serve of everything from indie art and fashion to under-

the-radar travel and all things eco-friendly, while its simple

covers keep things classy with a distinct lack of large-font

headlines and exclamation marks.

Frankie has gone from strength to strength in recent years despite a

drop in the sale of magazines in general. After trying their hands

at a recipe book, a diary, and a calendar, the editors released a

book dedicated to their love of interior design and crochet granny

squares, and in August last year unveiled their very first men’s

title Smith Journal. At the AMAs they revealed some pretty

impressive stats including a nifty 35.47% year-on-year readership

increase for the three months to June 2012. Frankie has just

released its 50th issue.

WHEN I hear the term "nanny state," I picture Penelope Wilton, the

rabbity British actor who appears in TV's Downton Abbey as the

interfering do-gooder Cousin Isobel.

Downton Abbey is set in Britain just before, during, and after World

War I - in other words, ages ago. But as the character Isobel,

Wilton's constantly furrowed brow and air of bossy concern seem to

characterize the modern approach to all sorts of issues. Interfering

in matters that, however disturbing, aren't actually your concern,

is strangely popular all over the Western World.

That trend persists, whether you're New York mayor Michael Bloomberg

fighting obesity by banning giant servings of pop, or Britain's

Department of Health weighing schoolchildren and sending a finger-

wagging note home to the parents of those deemed too fat. There are

some things that may bother you as a leader or as a ruling body, but

they really aren't any of your business.

Outcry from warped banana enthusiasts in France, Italy, Spain and

Greece saved the day, and 14 years later these yellow misfits were

finally allowed to reappear on produce stands with the rest of the

herd. One can only imagine the celebrations among European fans of

wonky banana splits.

Class 1 cucumbers also had to abide by strict rules that demanded

they be "practically straight . . . bent by a gradient of no more

than 1/10," according to a 2008 Guardian article. You could see the

issue there, though - traditional cucumber sandwich proportions

might have been decimated. The Queen and her cronies could hardly

have been expected to eat such hideously deformed tea offerings.

Eventually, the EU saw the light, realizing that it was wrong to

encourage food waste. Europe's fruits and vegetables once again

became figures of fun, and the Queen probably switched to

watercress.

Anyhoo, the latest astonishing move is that, under new proposals

being drawn up in Brussels, European hairdressers will be forced to

toss aside their chic footwear in favour of flats with non-slip

soles. These masters and mistresses of style will also have to

curtail the number of haircuts they do in a day to steer clear of

"emotional collapse," and will be told to participate in "social

dialogue" to ensure a workplace that's emotionally well vented.

Britain's Mail Online reports that EU Coiffure, an assembly of

European salon bosses, and UNI Europe Hair & Beauty, a union for

European hairdressers, will sign the decrees.

Implementing these rules will apparently cost the UK industry alone

three million pounds in "wasted time and red tape."

This news, of course, set off alarm bells. Not only is it bizarre

for strangers to decide what a woman puts on her feet, surely this

sets a broader precedent. What next - will the Association of Flat-

chested Designers insist that even buxom women wear tops with

ruffles? Will the International Union of Tattoo Artists decree that

its motley members pass spelling tests?

If umbrella organizations are trying to force trendsetting

hairstylists to wear sensible shoes, they might as well go one step

further and ban the blondification of matrons. "You're not fooling

anybody; we totally know you're grey," EU and UNI might announce.

When I was younger and more concerned with fashion, I'd go to

stylists who seemed au courant. While they may not have been

teetering about in stilettos, they certainly never looked as though

they'd dressed to work the midnight shift in an ER. Yet that's what

our poor European friends will have to endure: the snip of scissors

on their Brigitte Bardot bangs perhaps accompanied by the

grandmotherly squeak of Keds on linoleum. Can mandated Engelbert

Humperdinck on the sound system be far behind?

We have an hour or two per appointment to look them over and then,

if possible, copy them. Otherwise, over40s who don't subscribe to In

Style are stuck aping Whoopi Goldberg, Ellen DeGeneres, or Madonna.

Do you want the blame for that on your heads?

The aesthetic meddling is bad enough. But I predict a tidal wave of

rebellion when customers learn that beauticians are suddenly

supposed to guard themselves against stress.

"A friseur should not be entitled to her own feelings," the European

ladies will scoff. "Is she not merely a receptacle for my angst?"

I'm with them. I've always thought of stylists as spiritual air

purifiers: They take in whatever we feel like spewing, process it,

and return it to us, making it sound as reasonable as possible.