Are Promo Girls High Street Porn?

This week in her regular weekly column, Flaming Nora finds out that sexism is alive and well and on a High Street near you.

I was in one of the big multimedia barns on London’s Oxford Street the other week, ooh, let's call it HMV for argument's sake. Browsing the CD racks, waiting for new tunes to catch my eye and shout ‘Buy Me’, I heard an almighty roar at the back of the shop. Turning to see where the noise was coming from, I saw a line of teenage boys, all hormonal and angsty, all of them moving, jitterish, but none of them speaking. It turns out the noise was coming from a new computer game being previewed in-store and the boys were waiting in line for their turn on the new game. Well, ok, I thought, so that’s what the noise is. But then I noticed the girls.

High heels and low aspirations

This week in her regular weekly column, Flaming Nora points out the bad news about stilettos.

The lovely Charlotte blogged last week that she just wasn’t that much into shoes and I know what she means. Me neither. But the reason I’m not into shoe fashion has everything to do with my height and nothing to do with the fact I haven’t fallen in love with a pair of high heels oh, once or two hundred times. Standing at 5’ 10” in my stocking feet (well, ok, in my socks) I’ve shied away from buying high heels because I already tower over nearly everyone I know. When I was younger, I was tempted and succumbed to buying stilettos but when I went over a couple of times on my ankles, I made a decision not to join the strappy sandal and stiletto clad brigade and stepped out in my own direction. That’s not to say I don’t follow fashion down on my feet. I love wearing Doc Marten shoes and flat chunky things with flowers on, they suit my personality fine.

But back to that love-thang I mentioned earlier with high heels. I think it’s a case of what you can’t have, you drool after.

Would you shop at the Playboy store?

This week in her regular weekly column, Flaming Nora wonders if the world's out of sync or if it's just her.

The lovely Zara blogged a while ago complaining about stationery with the Playboy brand on it being available in WHSmith and on sale to kids. I hate it too and I've just discovered today there's a Playboy shop opening on London's Oxford Street soon. Hardly a mecca for discerning shoppers, Oxford Street's more dingy end contains the type of shop that displays most of their goods outside the shop on security hangers to 'entice' people inside. This is the low budget, rip off, dirty end of Oxford Street and it's here where I've just passed an Opening Soon - Playboy Shop sign.

Would you date a short man?

The Guardian asks today: What's wrong with tall women dating short men? As a tall woman who has dated short men, let me give you the answer to that question. I'm a 5' 10" blogging lady and here's my top reasons why I'll never date a short arse again.

When sitting or er, reclining, height doesn't matter. But a few inches makes all the difference as soon as you're both stood up because:

Other people assume that your man's your little brother.

I never felt I could truly be "me" and take pride in myself at my true height. This meant I often ended up stooping, which is never a good look on a tall lass.

I never again want to bow my head to kiss anyone.

[Flaming Nora]

UK Government gives advice from a WAG

This week in her regular weekly column, Flaming Nora looks incredulously at a Government website which gives travel advice from a WAG

I hate the term WAG, it’s lazy journalism at its worst. However, it seems the term has stuck, like most lazy journalism does. And now, one of those band of WAG women written off as shopaholic, spendthrift wives and girlfriends of the rich and famous is giving advice on how to look good abroad and find the best shops. But her advice isn't in one of the celeb mags, it's on a UK Government travel website. I only wish I was kidding but I'm not.

Could you edit the Guardian women's page?

Could you fancy having a bash at editing the Guardian women's page? If you think you could and should be in charge of the women's page for a whole week, there's a competition on the Guardian website. It's the launch of an annual prize for aspiring women's page editors and anyone aged 18 or over can enter - the only requirement is that you're someone with plenty of editorial ideas for Guardian women. Go on, have a go, you know you want to. [Flaming Nora]

Full details are online right here.

In praise of Siouxsie Sioux

This week in her regular weekly column, Flaming Nora sings the praises of Siouxsie Sioux.

I'm of an, er, age, where this woman is a legend to me and can Do No Wrong. I grew up listening to her, wanting to be her (as well as this woman) and loving everything she did. And I love her even now, she's just released a new CD and there's an upcoming London gig soon too. Have I got my tickets? Oh yes! Whether you've never heard of her or want to remind yourself just how bloody good she is, have a look at the YouTube of Spellbound.

Helen Chamberlain appreciation day

This week in her regular weekly column, Flaming Nora holds a Helen Chamberlain appreciation day.

Being a football fan and living with another football fan, our Saturdays now start at football o’clock even if we do support different teams. Like a lot of football fans, we’ve got a Saturday ritual thing going which includes a big grilled breakfast with lashings of tea while wearing lucky socks and pants. It’s then off to football we go to support either the away games in London for Sunderland AFC (me) or Middlesbrough FC (him). But before we head out of the door, there’s a part of the ritual that must be observed otherwise the day will surely end in tears. Yes, we turn the telly on and tune in to watch Soccer AM. The show on Sky has become one of my favourite TV programmes over the last couple of years, due in no small part to female presenter Helen Chamberlain who is a real joy to watch.

Flaming Nora: On having another woman fiddle with your boobs...

This week in her regular weekly column, Flaming Nora puts her breasts in the hands of a professional for a right good fitting.

Sadie the bra lady is a north-east legend. Her adverts in the local cinemas up north called her The Original Kwik-Fit Fitter and it's true. I’d been fitted only once in my life for a bra and it was by Sadie herself about eight years ago. She took me out of my sagging 36B cups and it was in a 34C that I left the shop, smiling and with my chest pointing in the right direction. Last week I decided to get fitted again and went to another of her shops in the north-east. I’d lost a bit of weight since the last time I was fitted and this time I was fitted up and kitted out by one of Sadie’s legion of women in two sexy, silky bras in a 32D.

Flaming Nora remembers the forgotten women of punk

This week in her regular weekly column, Flaming Nora backcombs her hair and relives her youth via a new book on women in punk.

I wasn’t sure what to make of it when I read an article in The Guardian this week about “the forgotten women of punk”. Forgotten by whom, exactly? Certainly not by me. Here I am pictured left, age 17 back in 1981, thinking I knew it all and had the crimped, gelled and back-combed hair-do to prove it. Anyway, enough about me and back to the forgotten women of punk.

There’s a new book being released celebrating women in punk bands from the 70s and 80s, women in bands like the Slits, X-Ray Spex and the Raincoats. If you’re asking yourself “who? what?” then have a look at X-Ray Spex on Top of the Pops via Youtube right here and click through below for more news.

Great British Beer Festival wants more women to drink beer

The Great British Beer Festival opens this week and runs from 7-11 August at Earl’s Court. Why am I telling you about this on Dollymix? Well, I’ve been to the beer festival a few times since moving to London in 2001 and let me tell you, men outnumber women by what seems to be about 20 to 1. Reading that off-the-top-of-my-head statistic you might be thinking one of two things. Either a) wahey! It’s a great place to meet blokes! or b) why don’t they encourage more women to attend?

Why indeed? I’ve never felt encouraged by the press or by the good people at CAMRA (Campaign for Real Ale) to attend. It’s been my own interest in beer that’s got me there in the past, but this year all that looks set to change as CAMRA says that women drinkers are the future of real ale! Click through below for more.

Flaming Nora: I’ve bought a frock!

This week in her regular weekly column, Flaming Nora shares the shock of buying a frock...

I can’t remember the last time I bought a dress. Hang on a minute, let’s have a think. Ah yes, got it. It was 2003 for my brother’s wedding when I bought a silk flowered confection that’s so beautiful I still sometimes take it out of its wrapping in my wardrobe to look at it, although I’ve never worn it since. So as you can imagine, four years on from my last purchase of a dress, the reason I’m blogging today is because I’ve just this lunchtime walked out of a shop with a dress in a bag and a smile on my face and I think I’m still in shock.

The long awaited release of Suzi Quatro's autobiography Unzipped is finally here!

The original rock chick bares all. 40 years after her first gig, Suzi Quatro has released her autobiography Unzipped and there’s a wonderful interview in The Guardian today where Suzi plugs her new book. But it’s also a revealing interview about the motivation behind her music and her career. She joined her first band at 14 years old, had huge hits with songs like Devil Gate Drive, Can the Can and 48 Crash and is still going strong as a presenter on one of Radio 2’s most listened to shows Rockin' with Suzi Q. The Guardian interviewer asks if Suzi considered herself a feminist to which she replies: "I was a me-ist. I believed in the right to do whatever I wanted to do regardless of gender. Still do." Good on her, what a star.

You can buy her autobiography here and she’s also doing a talk-in session about the new book at Borders in London (120 Charing Cross Road WC2) on Thursday August 9 at 7pm. [Flaming Nora]

Flaming Nora: Top 10 things nobody tells you about reaching 40

This week in her regular weekly column, Flaming Nora takes you to the other side of being 40 and reveals her top 10 things that no-one will tell you about reaching the big four-oh.

Ladies, brace yourselves. If you’re still in your twenties or thirties, there are things you need to know about reaching 40. Actually reaching 40 isn’t that bad, in fact it’s pretty good. There’s a party for a start, and all those presents too! But listen up and take advice from one who knows. I’ll be 43 soon and strange things are happening to my body and my mind. Click through below where I reveal the top 10 things that no-one, not even your best friend, will tell you about what really happens when you hit your forties.

Flaming Nora: Debbie Harry and me

This week in her regular weekly column, Flaming Nora explains why Debbie Harry made her want to be a writer.

The picture here was taken at the very first gig I went ever went to see. It was January 5 1980 and I was 15. My friend from school and I were both huge Blondie fans and our parents allowed us to travel the 10 miles on the train from home to Newcastle City Hall all by ourselves although my dad insisted on meeting us on the way home. I'm going to share a bit more about Blondie, Debbie Harry in particular, the spell she holds over women like me and the reason she made me want to be a writer. Click through below where I reveal all.

Flaming Nora: Uncovering secrets in Spam

This week in her regular weekly column, Flaming Nora spies on some spam.

I used to have a healthy respect for my email spam filter. I worked away on my email, safe in the knowledge that the spam filter was filtering the spam and saving me from reading anything I’d much rather not. Yes, I assumed my spam filter was working correctly, and we all know what happens when you assume. My spam filter has indeed been making an ass out of me, and for some time too, it appears.

Top 10 things I Love about London Underground

1. Piccadilly Line. It runs from the end of my street to central London in 20 minutes flat.

2. Docklands Light Railway. Who hasn’t sat at the front of the train pretending to be the driver?

3. Jubilee Line extension. Shiny stations. Lots of silver. Non-claustrophic platforms.

4. The tube map. Much like myself, it’s iconic, easy to understand and lovely to look at.

5. It’s quick and reliable. Well, usually, and more often than not.

Flaming Nora has a poke at Facebook

This week in her regular weekly column, Flaming Nora has a poke at Facebook.

Switch on, boot up, log in, open mail. Delete the porn, the spam, the offers to extend my penis and enlarge my septic tank. Delete the emails that want to send me Viagra and Cialis and turn down the offer of £1m from a widow in Nigeria (although I was tempted by this one, oh yes). Right, so that’s the crap cleared out of my inbox, what’s left? Oooh, lovely there’s a message from someone I haven’t seen in four years. Hang on, what’s she saying? She wants me to sign up to be her friend on Facebook? I haven’t seen her for four years and that’s the best she can do?

Flaming Nora: Big Girl’s Blouse

This week in her weekly column, Flaming Nora has a big grumble about short clothes.

The lovely Amber blogged last week about small women and finding clothes to fit. When I read her words, I sympathized and empathized because I have trouble finding clothes to fit me too. Standing 5’10” in my stocking feet (well, ok, in my socks) I have problems finding clothes to fit because I’m so tall. Trousers quite often refuse to reach my ankles and jacket sleeves give up at my elbow.

Flaming Nora: Gone to Glastonbury

This week in her regular weekly column, Flaming Nora’s got the house to herself for a whole weekend. She might just go nuts...

This morning the fella I love and live with set off on his regular trip to Glastonbury and I won’t see him till Monday, although it could be Thursday by the time he starts to see straight and form words and Friday by the time he gets rid of the smell. I could have gone too but having festered at past fests, I now know I can’t give up my own bed and home comforts to spend a few days in a field with a crowd, even if the music’s kickin’ and the vibe is fine.

And so, while living with a bloke is great fun and I love it, having the house to myself, for a whole weekend is something to treasure while he’s away. This weekend lies ahead of me unwritten and open. What will I do? Where will I go? Who will I see? What will I cook that stinks out the kitchen now there’s no one to complain?

Flaming Nora: Getting your tits out for the lad mags

This week in her regular weekly column, Flaming Nora gets a few things off her chest...

As well as being a huge Coronation Street fan, I’m also editor of Corrieblog . It filled my feminist heart with glee when I read that Sally Whittaker, who plays Corrie’s Sally Webster, had given sage advice to her on-screen daughter Rosie, played by Helen Flanagan. Sally’s advice to Helen was to stay clear of baring all for the lads mags because “there are so many other lovely things she can do and she might regret it”.

Good one Sally. Which actress in their right mind would want to be better known for getting her tits out for the lads’ mags than for her acting skills in one of the world’s oldest, best loved and highly regarded telly programmes? Sadly, there have been a few.

Flaming Nora: Why I'm waving bye-bye to Big Brother

In her regular weekly column, Flaming Nora this week explains why she’s stopped watching one of her favourite telly programmes.

I loved watching Big Brother. Not only did I watch it, I was addicted to it. Yes, my name is Flaming Nora and I was a Big Brother addict. I’ve watched it every year since it first started. I’ve tuned in for the nightly episodes, the catch-ups, the round-ups, BBLB and Big Mouth and heaven help me, sometimes even the live feed. I logged on to as many sites as I could find to read gossip and I devoured all I could in the tabloids and big papers to feed my need to know more. So yes, you could say I was something of a Big Brother fan. But now, no more. This year I’m going cold turkey.

Social nitpicking: Flaming Nora remembers when social networking was actually social

In her regular weekly column, this week Flaming Nora does a bit of social nitpicking about social networking...

Was it Karl Marx who first coined the phrase commodity fetishism? I think of those two words every time I pass a shop or surf a site selling any kind of add-ons for already blinged-up techy stuff. It’s something I don’t understand and have no desire to buy, but I’m not a complete technophobe. I might refuse to follow the herd and buy an iPod, but I won't have anything but DABs at home, believing in sound quality over quantity any day. And I’m the sort of person who’ll give you a nasty stare if I’m sat next to you on the tube with your swish, bang, swish, swish, bang coming out of your ears and into my space. Did I just say MySpace? Ooh, don’t get me started on social networking sites.

Fancy a fruity blonde?

I love beer, me. Mind you, I won’t say no to a glass of chilled white wine or a deep and sensuous red either. But when it comes a choice of drinks in a pub and that choice is between fizzy over-priced lager with an after-taste of gun metal, or some flowery, fruity real ale, I’ll go for a glass of proper beer every time. The Campaign for Real Ale (CAMRA) do their best to promote beer as a decent drink for us ladies but the image of the organisation is still, I’m sad to say, that of beer bellied fat men wearing sandals and smoking a pipe. Well, I can assure you dear reader that I’m neither fat nor a fella and I’m not wearing sandals today. As for the pipe, that only comes out on a weekend.

A clothes horse? Me? Neigh!

This week in her regular weekly column, Flaming Nora makes like Lily Allen...

“They’re for everyone” said Lily Allen, interviewed on telly about her new frock range for New Look. “Young, fat, thin, tall, everyone will look good in these”. Yeah, right. And did she say they’d suit, um, anyone over 35? Did the over 40s get a mention? No, we frocking well didn’t. It’s not Lily Allen I’ve got a gripe with, I quite like the way she looks and if I was her age I’d probably be bopping around in plimsolls and a dress too. I even think I did. And it’s not the other celeb range of clothes from Madonna, Kylie and Kate Moss I’m moaning about either, it’s the lack of decent high street clothes for women of a certain age.

To boldly go where I've never been before

In her regular weekly column, Flaming Nora boldly goes to a place where she's never been before...

Until this time last week, I was a comic shop virgin. When I broke my comic store duck it brought a smile to my face and, sadly, a dozen clichés to my mind. I went looking for a recently published graphic novel called Alice in Sunderland and when I entered a central London comic shop, I thought it’d just be like any other shop I’d ever been in. Oh, how very wrong I was.

Zen and the art of coping with sweaty armpits

In the latest of her weekly columns, Flaming Nora says you don’t have to tie yourself in knots to find inner peace...

Every Tuesday lunchtime for the last five years I’ve had a slot in my diary that can not be moved. Under no circumstances am I available for lunch with colleagues, a trip to the shops or a sandwich in the park. It’s more than a weekly treat to myself, as the Tuesday slot that can’t be moved is the rock on which the balance of my life depends. It’s my weekly yoga class. Those of you reading this who do yoga may be nodding your head in agreement. Those who don’t may be wondering why I’m waffling on about an exercise class. Well, read on and find out why doing yoga is more than just exercise. It might just change your life.

Dirty, mucky women

Flaming Nora gets down and dirty in the garden...

A love of gardening is something that crept up on me quietly in my mid-30s. One minute I was out dancing and gigging, the next I was spreading manure and wittering about the best way to force rhubarb. And while I still enjoy the dancing and gigging in my life, I enjoy my gardening just as much. I’m clearly not alone in my love of the soil, and the number of female gardening presenters prove on TV that there’s a huge female audience out there who enjoy getting their hands dirty, nails snapped and knees muddy.

From Twinkle to My Guy, my life in women’s magazines

Flaming Nora explains why she hates women's magazines, but reckons there's still one that's worth subscribing to.

I hate women’s magazines. I did read them once, I used to love them, swear by them and subscribe to them, but not any more. There was a point when I was flicking through the latest Eve or Cosmo or Red or whatever it was and I faced up to the fact that nothing these mags could tell me was relevant to my life any more. I knew myself better than a mag-hag hack would ever do so why let someone in an office dictate how I should feel, look and aspire to be? Besides, I figured there were better ways to spend a couple of quid than on pages of adverts. Am I cynical and frumpy in not liking women’s mags? No, I just happen to think they’re full of advice I don’t need or want and they focus on celebrities I have no interest in. I also fully believe the glossies are less truthful than the real-life women’s mags aimed at a different demographic, these I applaud wholeheartedly. You know the ones I mean, the supermarket mags – Take a Break, Real Life, Chat, Put Your Feet up, Have a Fag.

Mind the gap

Transport for London have written a report and have even issued badges. So why are many pregnant women still shy about asking for a seat on a London tube? I’m a healthy sort of lass and will take a seat as opposed to standing on the tube. But I’ll always stand for a pregnant woman, an oldie or someone who looks more in need of my seat than I. And yet there are many times when I’m too nervous to offer my seat to a woman because I’m not sure if she’s pregnant - or fat.

Which is worse? To offer my seat to a fat lass thinking she’s with child only to upset her for the rest of her day/life? Or to fail to offer my seat to a pregnant woman because I assume she’s been eating too many pies? So come on then, you ladies with bumps. If you’re pregnant and want my seat, ask and you can have it. Don’t stand in front of me with your tum in my newspaper, putting me in a dilemma of whether to offer you a seat or upset you forever. Better still, wear the Baby on Board badge. But whatever you do, make sure you get that seat. You deserve it. [Flaming Nora]

Marks and Spencer's pants

Flaming Nora explains why Marks and Spencer's new ad is pants.

Does anyone remember the advert for Richard Shops? If, like me, the thought of it rings a bell way back in the depths of your mind, didn’t the song in the ad go something like this:

Richard Shops are filled with all the pretty things
Soft and lovely pretty things to wear
Come now, pretty things, make the world a prettier place
Come prettier, come buy your clothes at Richard Shops

I hadn’t thought about Richard Shops in years, not until the new ad for Marks and Spencer aired the other week. You know the one I mean, it’s got Itchy Coo Park as the soundtrack, and a pre-pregnant Myleene Klass in her knickers as the USP.

When I am Queen: Flaming Nora

Each Friday the lovely Dollmixers tell us what they would do if they were Queen...

When I'm Queen I'd open up Buckingham Palace, free of charge, for anyone who wants to come in and have a look around and take tea in the gardens, wearing whatever they blinkin' well like. No hats, no pomp, no circumstance, just fun - and a good nosy around my London home. When I'm Queen I'd ban all reality TV shows involving plastic surgery and/or Simon Cowell. I'd get rid of Page 3 girls, lads' mags and the Soccerette slot from Sky Sports' otherwise brilliant Soccer AM show. I'd insist on confidence building and assertiveness training classes for all school children, girls and boys, starting from primary school up. I'd make yoga classes free of charge, up and down the land. I'd make Kathy Burke Prime Minster. And finally, I'd abolish the monarchy, sending out various members of my family to do an honest day's toil on a factory floor.[Flaming Nora]

Shoplifters of the world, unite

My trusty hairdryer died in my hand last week when it suddenly stopped working, gave up its last breath and died. It was no surprise really as I’d had it for over 12 years and never cleaned out the filter. But enough about my slovenly hair habits. Off I went to a high street chemist, which for argument’s sake let’s call Boots, to buy a replacement. So there I am in this Boots place, staring at a shelf full of boxes, all security tagged, with pictures of hairdryers on them. I wanted to know how the dryer would feel in my hand and whether it had a longer, salon-length cable, which for reasons too tedious to blog involving location of bedroom socket and mirror, was necessary for me. I lifted one likely looking dryer out of its box to have a good look, and that’s when he appeared. The officious security guard turned up out of nowhere and stood by my side, lurking.

Top five signs that spring has sprung

Now then, I'm no fashion slave, not me, no way. But there are five ways I know for sure that spring has sprung and oddly enough, they're all wardrobe-related. Number 1: I ditch my duffel coat for my mac. Number 2: I take off my Doc Marten boots... and put on my Doc Marten shoes. Number 3: I leave my woolly hat (the one with the pom-poms on the top) firmly at home. Number 4: I don't tie my scarf twice around my face before setting out of the house. But surely this, in at Number 5 is the best and biggest sign of all that spring is finally here. I can now stop wearing my black woolly tights. [Flaming Nora]

Silly sign of the week

I saw this sign in a shop window on Scarborough sea-front last summer. The job description probably reads "...must be made of sugar, spice and all things nice". [Flaming Nora]