For anyone who hasn’t seen John Lewis’s most recent piece of advertising, shame on you. The song alone, a haunting rendition of Billy Joel’s She’s Always a Woman as interpreted by Fyfe Dangerfield of The Guillemots fame, is enough to tip even the most emotionally detached of consumers over the proverbial precipice. Instantly engaging, touchingly provocative and unpretentiously sentimental, the 90 second short from young comms agency Adam & Eve charts the life of the average British woman through 70 years of emotionally charged vignettes as she experiences her first day at school, her 18th birthday, her wedding and so on…
As the lyrics wrap themselves effortlessly around the seamlessly executed journey of the protagonist’s life, the post Lehman significance of the brand’s promise of a ‘lifelong commitment to you’ becomes increasingly clear; life is too short, let John Lewis look after you. And it is here that the beauty of the campaign lies. Refusing to fall into the trap of aggressively positioning themselves as the British high street’s favourite store, their ‘Never Knowingly Undersold’ strap-line is subtly reassuring at a time when brand loyalty is at an all time low. In watching the seven different actresses at each stage of a believably ‘real’ woman’s life, you realise that all these babies/girls/women exist simultaneously now across the globe. And that somehow they’ll all be ok.
 It may have been a while since my last post as la belle dame, but the overwhelming abundance of breaking news from the political trail of all three main parties (Cameron’s standing in front of a wall of Warburtons medium sliced! What can this mean?!) campaign propaganda gone mad (a future fair for all Gordon? Even old Etonians?) and election gaffes (does anyone understand the proportional representation system?) that have filled the newspapers recently has bored me to tears.
More controversially however, the volcanic ash billowing across the sky in the Northern European hemisphere has prompted nothing but upset, anger and disappointment for the thousands affected, with images of sooty faces raised to the heavens in aguish jostling only with the Prime Minister’s wobbling jowls for a place on the front page of the nation’s tabloids. And yet, I can’t help but wonder at the great British public’s reaction to what is, essentially, a God given excuse for an extended holiday. Granted, the crisis has so far cost airlines $1.7 billion in revenue, sure, some companies are refusing to pay out for any incurred expenses on what started out as a business trip, but what happened to optimism people?
One friend in particular, ‘stuck’ in Barbados at her family’s holiday home after being told she wouldn’t be able to fly back to London for another week, persisted in sharing the misery of her position on her Facebook status every few hours, while the rest of us sat shivering at our desks with two pairs of socks on. So while I can understand that a family with 2.4 children on their way back from Disneyland might be upset about the financial implications of such a natural disaster, why don’t the rest of us just lie back for a minute – wherever we are – and relish in the carefree spontaneity of the situation.
 Aah the Oscars, one of the most decadent and eagerly anticipated awards ceremonies of the season. Cue Ben 'Avatar' Stiller, a Dolce clad Neil Patrick Harris dancing his way on stage (sorry, who are you again?) and mistimed wisecracks courtesy of Steve Martin and co-host Alec Baldwin, confirming once and for all that as Team America insightfully noted all those months ago, the latter is nothing but a member of the F.A.G. Predictably, the British side failed to bring home the bacon on the statuette front, but garnered sartorial attention instead with red carpet appearances by Marchesa and breakout London born star Carey Mulligan's daring Prada ensemble. Indeed, Best Actress Sandra Bullock's pitch perfect speech following her well deserved win for The Blind Side was outdone only by her equally shiny silk frock; back-up presumably, since coming to the Oscars dressed as one is probably better than nothing. But the biggest congratulations of the night go of course to The Hurt Locker's Kathryn Bigelow, who proved not only that women over the age of 50 can give the upper arms of Jennifer Aniston a run for their money, but that girl power really can take you further than a Union Jack dress and a pair of platforms...
Nope, I'm not talking pig's bladders, studs or Ashley Cole's backwards progression from boy to toddler. I'm talking Visa's latest dabble with the beautiful game, because in the run up to the FIFA World Cup later this year Saatchi & Saatchi London have devised an unutterably beautiful - if not slightly unoriginal - TV campaign to demonstrate Visa's partnership with the upcoming event. Ending with the strap line 'Life flows better with Visa', the protagonist runs from his Western living room across the Eastern plains as he traverses the globe with his credit card and kicks a few footballs along the way, finally entering the stadium to score their winning goal. Much as it pains me to say that an ad with anything at all to do with football makes me want to mosh out in my living room, The Pixies' Isla de Encanta is the perfect soundtrack to a perfectly executed piece of advertising and my favourite of the year so far. Come on England!!
 The Prime Minister's appearance on Piers Morgan's Life Stories ( watch it here) over the weekend was a world class exercise in spin. With campaigns hotting up from left to right as the General Election approaches, Brown dutifully stepped up to the 'I am an Open Book' mark in an attempt to win over critics and public alike with a a 45 minute interview that delved into his past. And boy did he succeed. Despite a paltry 4.2 million viewers (well behind the number of people who tuned in for Katie Price's confessions after her marriage to Peter Andre broke down - go figure) Brown reminded us all just what a normal and diplomatic chap he is. His favourite band? The Beatles. Of course Gordon. And what of his time as at Edinburgh University in the Sixties, surely he followed "the normal pursuit of a student" to some extent? Rest assured dear public, despite the fact that to the general population and several Home Counties housewives university life is a soul-destroying mix of sex, drugs and rock and roll, the Prime Minister encourages us in the belief that "that's just life". Some may point to the effectiveness of his intense media training over the past few months as the polls suggest that the popularity of New Labour's posterboy soared and swiftly plateaued following his ITV primetime debut, but with his bumbling candidness, his heartfelt loyalty and affection for his family, and his honest openness on his tumultuous relationship with Tony Blair, it wouldn't surprise me if one or two people might just change their minds about him come crunchtime.
 The fashion world is in mourning after losing one of its brightest stars as 40 year old fashion designer Lee Alexander McQueen was found dead in his apartment yesterday, just three weeks before showing his A/W 2010/11 collection in Paris. Shooting to fame with his innovative and original graduate pieces at Central Saint Martins, which fellow fashionista and equally troubled Isabella Blow proceeded to buy out completely, McQueen was one of the industry's true visionaries. Known for his tartan, his tailoring and his occasional pyrotechnics, the designer's creations were quick to enter the mainstream with his covetable skull print scarves quickly taking centre stage for most of the Noughties. A real-life fashion maverick, you will be missed Lee.
 I'm not going to lie, it's pretty rare that I find myself interested in football. Most of the time I'm in full support of that old adage 'it's a gentleman's game played by hooligans', which is only ever substantiated by the never-ending myriad of kiss and tell stories that end up on the Daily Mail website. And although John Terry's most recent escapades have certainly been taking up more front pages than back, I have to say I'm appalled by the behaviour of someone who occupies such a public role as England Captain. Judging by David Dimbleby's decision to invite George Galloway's opinion on the matter during Thursday's Question Time, it doesn't look like I'm alone, but despite the fact England manager Fabio Capello has now asked Terry to step down from the role, I'm still not sure this makes it ok. Granted, I'm not denying his sporting abilities - the cheeky Essex grin and constant banter in evidence on the pitch certainly lie in his favour when it comes to his teammates - but no doubt in the locker room he's already being touted as a legendary lothario of sorts, and will be restored to his 'rightful' position as leader of the pack and lad about town once the media storm has calmed. Judging by today's reports that he has now bought ex-mistress Vanessa Peroncel's silence for a mere three quarters of a million (about three weeks worth of jogging round a pitch by my reckoning), it seems only a matter of time before Terry's career will be back on track with just a tiny 34-26-34 shaped mark left in his wake. All that remains is to wait and see how long it will take Durex to become England's newest sponsor. Can't wait.
The allure of Paris Couture Week always lies in its escapism (for those of us in London looking forward to another big freeze in the next few days, this applies quite literally), but no one took the fash-pack on a bigger journey this season than Jean Paul Gaultier. From the ancient Aztec inspired sculpted metal breastplates contrasted with swathes of flowing cobalt silks to the gilded Mexican sombreros teamed with wide-leg pinstripe trousers, Gaultier showed us South America at its best; this was an exotic aesthetic without the gaudiness, and a truly original show to mark a new decade of fashion.
 A Golden Globe for Best Film, $1.62 billion dollars worldwide and seven years in the making, James Cameron's Avatar isn't exactly failing to pull in the viewers. Why then, after taking a whopping $73 million there already, is the country that has just overtaken the US to become the world's leading economy, banning the blockbuster from its screens after just two weeks? China's government yesterday issued a statement to explain they feared the revolt by the indigenous Na'vi population shown in the film would ignite the Chinese people's imagination to instigate a similar popular revolt. Sure. Maybe the Americans should watch out while we're at it, and the Irish too, because by the same token there is just as much reason to ban extreme violence from our screens. Furthermore, it's an insult to suggest the Chinese population are stupid enough to ignore the political agenda behind replacing 2D screenings of Avatar with a biographical production about Confucius. Subtle? I think not. Twentieth Century Fox has confirmed that the film will be withdrawn from 1600 Chinese cinemas nationwide, but that the 3D version is expected to continue showing in 900 cinemas across the country. Now forgive me if I'm wrong dear Communist Party of China leader, but if you really want to stop people from seeing something you should probably get rid of the real-life three dimensional version. Didn't you know that prohibition breeds rebellion?
 Fresh from the news that Sarah Jessica Parker is to head up US fashion house Halston as their new Creative Director, it seems only fitting to identify the unlikely figure who may have had a hand in her career.
Over in New York in the summer of 1976, author and playwright Harold Pinter was auditioning for the roles of children Miles and Flora in his adaptation of Henry James's The Turn of the Screw, when in walked the future fashionista herself. "A minute flaxen-haired doll called Sarah, so small she could hardly read the script, proved to be the most brilliant actress" writes Antonia Fraser, Pinter's widow, in her recently published memoirs. "Years later I was amused to realise that the doll had become famous as Sarah Jessica Parker".
Thank Harold for Carrie Bradshaw...
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