These have been strange days. I barely peek out of the bed covers, I read too much (yes, there is such a thing), I eat at odd hours, I worry. So when I came across the following in Vogue India, March, I could have wept, but I laughed instead. It was either that or, as my friend Anu and I keep a strict watch on, Go Postal.
Vogue contends that the look designers are going for this season embrace the 'sheer lightness of mood in Alexandre Cabanel's (work)....reflective of this season's neo-romantic trend.' Nothing wrong with that, you say? Perhaps, except that the 'lightness of mood' referred to here is Cabanel's painting of........Ophelia.
Is there a watery equivalent to spinning in the grave? Coz that's what O is doing as we speak. Is this better or worse than confusing Alexa Chung with Vanessa Traina a few pages on? I agree, much worse.
Goodbye, Mr James
Sandra, Sandra, Sandra. I could have told you nothing but humiliation awaits anyone who speaks about undying love for a partner in Hollywood. But I feel for you. I liked Jesse. He has a way of speaking slowly and saying the funniest things, he is also, as you pointed out, hot. But he is on his third marriage, honeychile; it's like having children, one is acceptable, two questionable, three is just two too many. But the real horror is feeling like a blinkered idiot after telling the planet that only this man showed you what it was like to have someone really care for you, who made you feel You were worthwhile, whom you loved trulymadlydeeply. It's one thing telling your best friend all this over cocktails, quite another telling the world media. If there was such a thing as justice, JJ would be egged and paraded down the main street of every country that reported Sandra's words. It's the least we can do.
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