I am The Mob Wife

It's finally cool to be gaudy

It’s taken a long time you guys, but finally I feel vindicated. My “aesthetic” is having its moment in the sun. I don’t know if it’s the smidgen of Neapolitan blood in these veins, my chronically flat, thin hair and lifelong desire for oomph at the roots or my penchant for animal prints, but I have always been a Mob Wife on the outside - I just didn’t know what to call it. I am delira that my style now deemed “cool” by the kids, and that my “look” now has a name.

Quiet luxury has never been me, a maximalist to my core. Barbiecore was too blonde, too sugary. I could never be accused of being a Clean Girl, whatever tf that means, and Tomato Girl Summer perplexed me. Why would you want to add redness to your complexion, when I’ve spent a lifetime trying to hide rosacea? Bizarre.

But Mob Wife, I get. Ohhhhh, she is me and I am her. This is a trend devoid of subtlety. She is garish, she is over the top, she is LOUD - but in a good way. Think Elizabeth Taylor, Carmela Soprano, the goddess Jackie Collins. Think Italian designers, too much eye makeup, maybe an accessory too far. Lots of gold, bling, black and prints. Big, HUGE hair. Not Jackie Onassis ladylike, this is Lee Radziwill glamour. There’s a vague aura of New York, and let’s face it, the Jersey Shore. It’s chic precisely because it is so gaudy - because it takes personality, confidence and chutzpah to pull off. This is not a look for the faint of heart.

Whenever I’ve tried to describe to a hair stylist or makeup artist what I’ve wanted in the past, it’s been difficult for them to get it. The poor angels just wanted to make me look nice, appropriate, of the current era. The word I always use to them is MORE, please. Big hair, but not frizzy. Matte skin, but with glow where necessary. Defined eyes, all about the wing. A pinky nude, but not chalky. Now I have the words to use - I want Mob Wife. Hallelljulah!!!

This is not a new thing for me. I have been exhibiting this aesthetic tendency since the womb. When I was a young, bald baby it was more elder Mafioso than Mob Wife, but the instinct was there:

Girlfriend just needed a head of hair! Throughout my life, I would always gravitate towards the flashiest of accessories, the most backcombed of hair, the most leopard of prints. My nightclub era can attest to that:

There was FUR (faux, obvs), there was LACE, she’s beauty and she’s grace!!! There was also crushed velvet, far too much costume jewellery, waist cinching belts and false lashes. The absolute glamour, lads. The odd time it would verge on Indie Sleaze, but that was just because it was 2009.

I’m not slating the other aesthetics. I would love to look great in cool neutrals, to be able to wear cream and grey and beige. I have attempted minimal makeup and blonde highlights, only to look like a sick stranger. Thus I have come to accept what suits me, and that is hair extensions, a full face and bold colours. Oh, and a spray tan obvs. Pointy nails are my latest obsesh.

To this day and forever more, I will gravitate towards a black and gold combo, a shiny lip gloss and a coiffed crown. I only own sunglasses that are huge and have some sort of glamorous embellishment. I own a knee length leopard faux fur coat, my new favourite handbag is covered in large gold studs. When it comes to any photos I might undertake to promote my book in the coming months, I know exactly who I aim to emulate:

I am thrilled my time has come. I am on trend! Father, son and House of Gucci, I have arrived. It is also a very forgiving and flattering look, distracting from parts you wish to hide, emphasising a fuller bust and a small waist. You don’t need to show off your arms, you can lash on shoulder pads for balance and let your jewellery do the talking. The bigger the hair, the better the ratio with your cleavage.

I will excitedly ride this wave until the next boring normcore, wishy washy, bland and boring trend comes along, which could actually be tomorrow with how fast this world moves. And then I will continue to ride it when it’s uncool again, because that’s just who I am. Who’s with me?!