When it comes to feminism, I�ve never been the bra-burning kind. Equality is all very well, but it�s no excuse not to brush your hair.
Emancipation and exfoliation are not mutually exclusive: it is perfectly possible to make it in a man�s world without looking like one.
Occasionally, though, something comes along that stirs my inner Germaine Greer. Something so outrageously sexist it would make Mad Men�s Don Draper blush. A proper bottom pinching, �fetch-me-a-cup-of-tea-love� moment.
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