Essex. The word used to conjure up images of white stilettos, dancing around handbags and jumped-up Ford Escorts along Southend Boulevard. Our generation however, have morphed the ‘Essex-lander’ into a different creature entirely… Think orange, think enhanced- we’re talking boobs, lips, nails eyelashes, skin, even bikini lines. And it’s not just the girls, it’s the boys too- think gelled side partings and cardigans, sunbeds and pink shirts with the buttons done up to the top. The ‘Essex look’ can be spotted a mile off and appears to be a growing phenomenon thanks to the notoriety of a particular ITV2 show…
Where I work seems to be a little hubub of this world of Essex- the owners were approached to film the “The Only Way is Essex” here but refused the offer, thinking it would loose them credibility and harm the image of sophistication they were trying to achieve. (?)Since the place’s clientele seems to be the contents of the show’s extras list, I’m not sure what they’re being so sniffy about. I was indignant at my denial of fame.
From what I’ve seen of the fashion parade in this venue every weekend, (not quite as good as Essex fashion week mind,) I might go as far as to say that the guys are more extreme than the girls. They feel untouchable in a way, not in a Brad Pitt/ George Clooney sense, but in a ‘look-but-don’t-touch-me-or-it-will-all-rub-off’ sense, with their fake tan and gelled hair and those really low cut v-neck t-shirts with a waxed and literally oiled chest casually protruding. It made me realise how guys must feel around a girl with four inches of cake on her face, with hair back combed and hair-sprayed to the points it’s a fire hazard in the smoking area. You can’t get near remnants of the person underneath the circus act.
What happened to the sexiest of men- those that pull on a t shirt and jeans and just look irresistible with zero effort- bit of stumble; the rough edgy look? That- is hot. Those of you that know me well enough will know the coffee-making Italian I’m referring to here… (I just hope he can’t read enough English or is unaware of my existence enough to read that.)
So there was a lot of excitement at a series that promised an insight to this strange land, and I have to say- it’s certainly delivered in terms of laughs. A real portrayal of life in Essex? That is up for debate. In the first episode one of the orange men who talks in such a fashion that it looks like from his jaw action he’s on cocaine, informs the viewer that a lot of people think Essex is like L.A. We’re told this as he makes a big show and dance of buying a Rolex watch and a designer jacket that are mysteriously never seen or mentioned again on the series... Now, I’ve never been to L.A- but I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that this cardigan-wearing-sunbed man is incorrect. Either that or we are from very different parts of Essex.
‘Nanny Pat’ is surely the star of the show- Orange Jaw Man seems to wander into his bachelor pad to find his beloved Nanna ironing his shirts and cooking sausage plaits intermittently. If she’s not already there she’s at the door with a casserole telling an equally orange granddaughter how proud of her she is as the girl recalls writing in her diary and begging to God every night “Please God, please let me be a popstar.”
The reply from the Omnipotent Almighty was most likely something along the lines of-
“My child, tis not a question of letting you be a popstar- you have free-will, re- pray that one to me: How about ‘Please God, let me able to sing in tune and dance at the same time.’ Let us begin with that one my dear tangoed child.”
I thought I’d ask around- what do Essex-landers think of their county compared to the outsider’s view? When I was at university it was a big deal to be from Essex; Essex-landers seem to stick together and it was always extremely exciting to find a fellow student from this magical region. I didn’t hear the same affect for “Omg! You’re from Surrey!”
The general consensus from inside our border is that Essex people ‘make the effort;’ as in boys and girls spend a lot of time getting ready, both sexes piling on layers of makeup and peeling off layers of clothes. I myself noticed last time I went to London for the evening that actually, the men all looked a bit scruffy in comparison to the pristine and well-kept look of the Essex male. Outside of Essex however, whether this ‘making the effort’ looks good or ridiculous is the varying factor, but mostly it’s the IQ level that seems to be the issue with the reputation.
Everyone was laughing at me on fireworks night when I made the comment; “Just think, this time all those years ago Guy Fawkes was crawling under parliament trying to blow the place up.” ‘Sugar Lips’ from the show didn’t even get that far. Her dad held his head in shame as she asked him whether Guy Fawkes was American- this is the girl who thought the capital of India was Pakistan. It’s Jade Goody and the mysterious origin of ‘East Anglia’ all over again- innocent ignorance that the public lap up; Sugar lips is indeed one of the most popular cast members.
Would it really be that bad to have a brain like that? Ignorance is bliss they say- a life where you flitter from hair appointment to manicure to your Friday night out- a small brain equals small problems surely? I don’t see any of them stressing about the meaning of life, torturing themselves about where they’re going and what they want to do.
***
Being from Essex is a novelty that doesn’t wear off anytime soon when you leave the borders of this baffling county- in fact, notoriety seems to grow. I was in Surrey a couple of weeks ago at a house party of twenty people or so, and at least sixteen of them where talking about the show. All at once.
“Oh my God you’re from Essex!” The amazement magnified when I told them yes, I have actually been to the Sugar Hut and the King William- even having dinner in there one night with a friend when low and behold Orange Jaw man and his tangerine colour lady-friend were filmed sipping bubbly at the table next to us. (I pretended not to be excited, but I don’t play calm and casually cool very well…) The scene filmed saw two equally orange girls join the table for some stimulating conversation before they trotted off to leave the love birds to their pink Moet.
Can I just take a minute to explain when I say these girls are orange, that word doesn’t do it justice. It’s like a radioactive glow, somewhere between mud and tangerine, captivating in a way that makes spectators jaws-drop, although whether it’s the fake boobs spilling over a tight top or the alarming skin colour that’s making tongues hang out is the real question.
My reaction is “Jesus Christ please tell me I’ve never been that colour.” (Cue a quick flick through facebook photos to check… Conclusion- not too bad on the Essex-scale of tango.)
I drove past ‘Dueces’ last week and the burnt-out mess was a very sorry sight indeed. Firebombed after its opening night, I wonder if Orange Jaw Man is wondering how this represents his popularity, either that or the popularity of the bar’s co investor- Jack Tweed. (Jade Goodey’s grieving widow.)
That night in Surrey, me and my friend who is also from Essex, managed to convince one of the boys from the party that yes, it’s true- all Essex girl have a vajazzle. Essex translation- a vajazzle is a decoration of little crystals in that are stuck on in the bikini area. In fact my friend went one step further and said her vajazzle was in the shape of a Labrador. (I really don’t know where that came from.) He was gobsmacked, gleefully gobsmacked that he had managed to meet two real Essex girls with actual vajazzles. It made his night. (This particular fellow ended up in A and E at the end of the evening due to his consumption of alcohol, so I hope the tale of the vajazzled Labrador wasn’t erased from his memory…
The award for the best word of the series must be ‘Jell’- Essex for jealous- a trait displayed constantly between untrusting partners on the show- one particularly ‘Jell’ character kindly explaining that “being jealous shows you care.” Bunch of flowers would have sufficed Mr. Jell Miester.
Jell-meister’s new woman after dumping Sugar Lips had a face that was a strange mixture of Queen Cleopatra and a horse- an effect caused no doubt by the buckets of Botox she’s had injected. I felt sorry for Sugar Lips being spurned- but she consoled herself with a psychic’s prediction (or physic as her Barbie-looking friend misread) that she will soon meet a West Ham football player. From a ‘Jell’ night club owner (well actually the son of a nightclub owner) to the prospect of a promiscuous male who runs around in a pair of shorts starting sentences with “at the end of the day” for a living. Lucky girl.
I do have my Essex moments- the most repeated among my friends probably me saying on an airplane to Amsterdam for my 21stbirthday, as we broke the clouds at a few hundred thousand feet;
“See, everyday’s a sunny day, it’s just the clouds that get in the way…”
That sentence, although uttered in complete sincerity at the time, for me sums up Essex mentality (not my mentality) - dumb but sweet natured. There’s no malice in the characters on screen. Even the original tangerine girlfriend of Orange Jaw man who is probably the most unlikable- with eyebrows constantly raised so high when she speaks, (or rather bitches) I worry they’ll get lost in her hairline- even this young lady uttering obscenities at her ex and his new girlfriend in between telling anyone and everyone they were together for nine years- you can just see it’s all a defence. She’s being horrible because she’s hurt. I would be too if I wasted nine years of my life with someone who spent that much time in front of a mirror.
Thinking about the plotlines of the show, (whether they’re scripted or unscripted being a bit of a debate here) they all revovle around the ever-changing dynamics of this group's relationships. Elizabeth Gilbert’s novel ‘Eat Pray Love’ came to mind- the part when she admitted having got all the way to Bali on her journey of self discovery and enlightenment, and all she wanted to ask the wise old medicine man about was about her relationship. One of my oldest friends and I went to dinner yesterday- I arrived back realising that from 6.30 until 10pm we didn’t stop talking for more than five minutes, and 80% of that time- yep you’ve guessed it, we were talking about boys.
So when you strip away all the vajazzle and the spray tan washes down the plughole, they’re just like you and me. It doesn’t matter whether your orange, radioactive, ‘Jell’ or have eyebrows that defy the rest of your face, underneath all that it’s all about relationships. We love to torture eachother, fall in and out of love, sit staring at the phone that doesn’t ring, break up, make up, first dates and best mates. And best of all- dissect every sentence and text afterwards with a glass of pinot to hand. There’s humanity underneath all the fake bake- and I think that’s why we watch it. (Not just to take the piss then..?) So take it with a pinch of salt, a splash of lip gloss and hay, don’t be too Jell if you’re not from Essex…
***
So as the season comes to an end, I’m strangely sad that my vajazzled home county is leaving my screen, although I’m quite excited at the prospect of seeing Orange Jaw Man and the Jell Meister battle it out in a boxing ring. Not to mention the audience- Who will win the pouting punch up between Sugar Lips and the Jell Miester’s new Botoxed horse/ lady? Who will triumph in the tango-tantrum between Orange Jaw Man’s equally orange lovers?
Who to cheer for? I’m putting my money on the underdog of the series- Arg. From a silent soppy sidekick with lines so scripted we could write them ourselves, to a Ratpack singing sweetheart that won his girl back- getting the opportunity to laugh at his tormenter who ended up with a burnt down club, being sacked by his own sister and acquiring an even more radioactive girlfriend than the last. Karma’s a bitch. I can see Arg jumping in at the last minute and knocking out the pair of them with his microphone (or his stiff posture as his sings)
Whatever the outcome, you can bet your bottom dollar there’s a fair few people waiting for series 2...
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