The World Cup is back again, like an aggressive case of herpes and along with it, the inevitable onslaught of WAG-shaming. Just this weekend we saw Coleen berated by Twitter users for daring to post a Happy Fathers Day message to Wayne – apparently, he doesn’t deserve one as his pitch performance hasn’t been up to scratch. I found my postman’s wife on Twitter once and started giving her grief because her husband delivered next door’s letter to me by mistake – oh no wait, I didn’t, because it’s nothing to do with her and that would be totally weird. I don’t see how corner kicks have got anything to do with parenting skills anyway – unless he was using Kai as a football. I didn’t watch the game, but I’m going to assume that didn’t happen. Fair play to Coleen, though, whenever I see her being attacked on Twitter she always manages to pull out a killer comeback while retaining her class and composure. That’s my scouse bird.
But if WAG-hating has become a national sport more beloved than the actual sport itself, there’s one place it won’t find traction – in Liverpool. Because let’s get one thing straight, my fella can’t kick a ball to save his life but that will never stop me from swanning round Liverpool One swinging a Cricket bag and acting like I’m Stevie G’s one and only.
Since the term ‘WAG’ was coined a couple of World Cups ago it’s become a expression of disdain rather than affection. Society sneers at those perfectly coiffured and immaculately dressed specimens of beauty as if they’re the lowest of the low.
But in Liverpool, we’re a massive fans of uber-glam and love fashion. We just can’t get on board with the scruffy Made In Chelsea lot, the try-hard TOWIE girls or the Avant Garde (read as off their head) catwalks of Paris and Milan – so who do we put atop a blinged up pedestal instead? The WAGs of course!
Before you write me off, hear me out. Sure, there are some girls whose active ambition in life is to pull a footballer so they can have a (so-called) easy life – which is sad to see. Not least because doesn’t sound to me like having a footballer as a husband is an easy life at all – just ask Abbey Clancy, Victoria Beckham and Coleen Rooney how they’ve found having their heartbreak plastered all over the papers. If you meet a footballer and fall in love that’s great, but I’d never consider it to be an easy way out.
For the most part the old-school WAGS of Coleen Rooney and co are normal girls who through their relationships, granted, have come into ‘new money.’ As a result they have a sense of style we can all identify with, but a fantasy budget to go with it. You might argue that it’s their husband’s money not theirs, so they have no right to be so revered. But we’re not holding them up as academic role models or world-changing leaders. We’re talking about dress and shoe porn, people. Never mind the stick-thin catwalk models, these are real girls with boobs and ass, and so what if we want to look like them? They look fit!
Coleen has used her fame as Wayne’s wife to forge her own career. People may find her choice of husband and his (alleged) taste in ‘older women’ a bit controversial but the girl’s done good – books, perfume, a TV series, a clothing range AND she appeared in Vogue. As I’ve mentioned, my fella isn’t getting called up for his England cap anytime soon, BUT I still want LV’s and Louboutins a la Alex Gerrard, so what do I do? Work hard for it. Hell I’ve made a career using the face of Coleen Rooney as my talisman.
At the end of the day, she’s just a Scouse girl who had a dream and followed it up without forgetting where she actually came from - Liverpool. You’ll never find her swapping Aintree for Ascot and that’s something we all love about her. I mean I’ve got a lot of love for Victoria Beckham and all but remember when she was just a bird from Essex who couldn’t sing? Now she designs clothing where even the WAG’s would wince at the price tag, but your average girl on the street can pick up a piece from Coleen’s collection for just a couple of hours overtime.
So shove that up your arses, snobs – WAG’s are perceived to be thick bimbos, but there are so many of them who prove that’s not the case. Either way, they’re seen as fair game for a ribbing and no one should be fair game. They’re just trying to live their lives.
Look down on us and WAG’s all you like, but having perfect bouncy curls, a pert set of bristols and a wardrobe to die for are not mutually exclusive to having brains, independence and opinions. They make the world and the World Cup more aesthetically pleasing and I for one won’t give two hoots of a vuvuzela about Rickie Lambert’s sliding tackle. Instead, I’ll be eyeing up Amy’s (his childhood sweetheart by the way, not a gold digger) bag and oversized designer sunglasses. And I’m okay with that.
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Picture: Getty** **
This article originally appeared on The Debrief.