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Ms Lorna Jane

Lorna Jane: forcing blokes to acknowledge and accept that their sisters and mothers are probably wearing g-bangers. A grim notion that is compounded by the reality, that every other bloke is going to notice as well. The horror.

Dani is up at 7am on a Sunday morning getting ready for her morning walk along Marine Parade in Cottesloe. She has her fresh Lorna Jane kit all set out: a midriff-y orange singlet with “UNIQUELY ME” written in large faded black lettering, a pair of black ⅞ tights and a colourful pair of Asics Gels. She grabs her Fitbit and then spends the next 45 minutes applying a light application of makeup that will in no way assist her journey to rigdom. She ties her hair in the obligatory fit-bitch ponytail and bounces out the door. Her neighbour, a seedy old bloke, cracks a smile which shamefully conceals the raging boner-hurricane brewing in his flogged out cargo shorts.

Dani pounds the pavement while keeping her eyes fixed on her iPhone. She is trawling through the Lorna Jane website for a perfect motivation meme to share with her Facebook community. Perfect, she finds a photo of a post-it note with “You can do it – note to self x”. Hold the fuck up, when did her morning walk become a fondue party? More cheese than a grubby wanklord’s foreskin after he belted off at the Bega factory. How about, “don’t post smug memes – note from everyone x”. Nevertheless, the usual suspects like her post.

She suddenly feels inspired when Bruno Mars cracker Uptown Funk plays through her iPhone. She decides to do a few token chin-ups on the outdoor fitness equipment on Marine Parade. She does 6, before deciding that a delightful Cafe breaky is up her alley. She sits at The Blue Duck and orders some eggs. Her glorious rig is a stark contrast to the chubby lycra-clad Lawyer who is apparently sponsored by team Mid Life Crisis. He indiscreetly ogles Dani while sucking in his gut and trying to look manly with his Latte. Swing and a miss mate, swing and a miss.

Dani returns home and doesn’t bother changing out of her “workout” attire. It’s not like she worked up a sweat and tight leggings are the new jeans these days. She heads to Claremont Quarter to do a spot of shopping. Herds of Lorna Jane wearing babes square off with each other like a room full of coconut buttered cats. She walks past Beluga to see Andrew Embley honking some orders out of his goof-hole and slicking back his Night at the Roxbury hair-do.

She can’t stop and chat though, she has Pandora trinkets to peruse.

Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?

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