London - Poor Gordon Ramsay - now there’s three words I never thought I’d write.
The 49-year-old chef posted what he thought was an innocent picture of his children on a night out - and was hit by a tsunami of online criticism about his parenting skills.
The problem was the girls’ outfits. Matilda, 14, in a stripy crop top and skater skirt; Holly, 16, in a slip of a sequin dress; and Megan, 17, also in a crop top and spangly mini-skirt.
“Way too much skin,” observed one critic; “keep their innocence a little longer” suggested another; “those are some short skirts,” said a third.
I can certainly see what they mean. The outfits are a bit, well, economically cut. But the idea that any father these days has much control over what his teenage daughters wear is laughable.
There’s only one group of people who get to decide that: the fashion industry and they don’t care about anything except shifting as many teeny skirts and tiny tops as they can.
Of course, young girls rebelling over hem lengths is as old as the hills. I distinctly remember pulling my school skirt down to my knees for uniform inspections, only to roll up the waistband the second the teachers’ backs were turned.
But today it’s different in a way I’m only beginning to understand. The pressure to look a certain way is so much more intense. When I was a teenager, you hardly ever saw a photo of yourself. But in the age of photo-sharing apps such as Instagram, girls are constantly reviewing and analysing their appearance.
No wonder they believe that what they wear defines them. Posting that all-important snap in the exact sleeveless polo-neck crop top everyone is craving is one of the keys to peer acceptance.
They worship certain brands in the way my generation used to worship pop stars: Topshop, American Apparel, Brandy Melville and Victoria’s Secret Pink have the market sewn up in teenage girl-wear.
Whatever they peddle, the girls want. And what they peddle, sadly, is mostly pretty trashy.
In the girls’ minds this has little or nothing to do with sex and boys. They don’t wear skimpy clothes to be provocative; it’s more a desire to fit in.
But for parents, it’s a complete nightmare. The online comments which will have cut Ramsay most deeply, the ones that prey on every protective dad’s (and mother’s) darkest fears, are the ones that said his daughters looked like “hoochies” - slang for promiscuous young girls.
My daughter is almost 13, and if it weren’t for her school’s mercifully strict uniform policy, I’d be driven mad daily by this issue.
As it is, we have the same argument on an almost hourly basis at weekends. It goes something like this:
Child: “Can I wear my Topshop boots and American Apparel skirt to so-and-so’s house?”
Me: “No.”
Child: “But why not, so-and-so is wearing hers?”
Me: “I said no.”
Child (voice rising in indignation): “But why?”
Me: “Because the skirt is too short.”
And so on until we get to: Child: “Oh my god, that is so unfair. Everyone else is going to look so cool and I am going to look like a total loser. Hate you, hate you, hate you.”
Most of the time I stand my ground. But sometimes you’re just not up for the fight.
Besides, strategy can work better than brute authority. Take those dreaded Topshop boots.
After much nagging, I eventually let my daughter wear them on a recent shopping trip with her friends.
She called about half an hour in to say she was in agony and could I please come and pick her up and bring her trainers.
Naturally I drove to the shopping centre at snail’s pace, by which point she’d had a good extra hour of pain.
And she hasn’t worn them since...
Daily Mail