Lily Cole (right) in US Vogue
After returning from a business trip to Manchester (which was made significantly more pleasant by my hilarious colleagues, dinner in Chinatown and a Louis Vuitton overnight bag filled with the travel essentials), I had a few minutes to spare before my train back home. I make it a point whenever I’m passing St Pancras Station to always pop to the Paul’s counter for an authentic French pastry, straight off the Eurostar from Paris. This afternoon, happiness came in the form of a giant green pistachio macaron (although it was a tough choice between that and a red fruit tart. I know! These are the types of life and death situations I deal with on a daily basis…)
Feeling positively upbeat about the thought of my sugary French fancy and the prospect of arriving home at the time I would normally be peeling myself away from my desk, who should I bump into on the Cambridge Express but Lily Cole. And while I don’t generally hobnob with international supermodels on a daily basis, such an encounter isn’t as entirely surprising as it might at first sound – the clever boyfriend is studying for his PhD at the same Cambridge college as Lily. Nonetheless, my initial excitement came mainly came from the fact that she looked so normal * – in fact, the only reason I noticed her at first was because her hair is just so brilliant and red, as though she’s the Cambridge equivalent of some exotic flamingo (and i’ve been constantly pondering dyeing my own hair red for several weeks now). But once I realised it was her, what really made me do a secret little happy smile on the inside? Noticing that with me wearing my ‘i’m actually 5 inches shorter but pretending to be a tall person’ heels and her in flats and regular student garb, I didn’t look like an insignificant tiny ordinary person while standing next to a supermodel! In fact (obviously I might be getting a wee bit carried away here…), I looked nicer! **
While i’m hardly toting the ‘love your own self’ message (in fact i’m sure somewhere a feminist fairy just died at my hideously superficial observations… for which I apologise and will attempt to somehow compensate for tomorrow), I’m sure any normal woman would appreciate the significance of such a discovery. For if there’s one thing we know, it’s that while supermodels might be lovely to look at, one must NEVER actually stand next to one, particularly not when a camera is in the near vicinity.
So what’s the moral of my story? 1) Never feel bad about a macaron – it will make you smile at any time of day; and 2) always wear fabulous shoes – so that in case you happen to bump into a supermodel, you’ll actually feel brilliant.
P.S. I thought it might be rude to take a photo of Lily given that she a) was in ‘regular’ mode; b) is accustomed to being photographed by Mario Testino or Patrick Demarchelier rather than moi; and c) I’m not that shameless, i’ll have you know! However I’m sure a photo of my giant pistachio macaron is an acceptable substitute 😉
Love, Miss B xx
*Â I am obviously not implying that supermodels are not actual proper human beings, but we (or at least, I… maybe I need to stop reading Vogue) assume that they will somehow look like glowing, ethereal creatures in real life as well.
** Please excuse my hideous vanity – it’s not my usual style, but I’m sure in this case i’ll be forgiven…
Loving the title of this post… it’s Blog Name worthy… Macaroons and Supermodels… think about it!!
Hehehe I’m lucky to be ‘tall’ i think.. is 5’7/5’8 tall? lol
My current motto… the lower you feel the higher the heel!
xx
You’re right, models are usally quite ordinary-looking! I have worked backstage at fashion shows (just local fashion shows for David Jones, not Paris fashion week or anything), and I know first hand the difference between the airbrushed, perfectly lit, staged works of art that are fashion shots, and the reality of what models actually look like. In person, the tallness and thinness of models is awkward, weird, and not very attractive. Although when you look closely, they have incredible bone structure, if you saw them on the street, you wouldn’t give them a second glance.
Backstage at fashion shows, I always felt that the hairdressers, who are just ordinary guys and girls, were much more attractive than the models. I’m always glad for the time I spent working at fashion shows because for me it exploded the “model myth” and made me understand that beauty (which anyway I still do not have!) is much more complicated and ephemeral than a particular size and shape.
I thought that I saw Lily at a party in London this week – she had black hair – it must have been a wig. Lovely blog, I enjoy reading your pieces.
It would have taken all my strength not to go over and say hello!
p.s. just out of curiosity, what is the clever boyfriend studying at Cambridge
I see her all the time and so want to say something, but have thus far been to shy to do so. And he’s doing a PhD in Engineering – exceptionally clever indeed!
B xx