Books and frocks, my two favourite things.

I had been sitting on the knowledge of the Booker shortlisting since last Wednesday, unable to tell anyone but a few close friends. The Booker people let your publisher know in advance so they can organise reprints and have stock ready to go into the bookshops. To his credit, when I told Harry, his first question was: what are you going to wear. That boy gets more metrosexual by the minute. It will be manscara next.

One person I did let into my confidence was Anya Hindmarch who 'gifted' as the saying goes in fashion PR a gold clutch. Yay, Anya, thank you. Saturday was taken up with buying a dress for the grand party at the V&A on the night of the shortlist announcement. Eventually I got this from Jaeger which I had admired many times but always assumed it was the wrong shape for me. Two very bossy young German sales assistants insisted I tried it on, and - well, what do you know? So I succumbed to the matching necklace, too.

On Tuesday, at the hairdressers, I happened into L.K. Bennett, and found a pair of very high heels which were oddly quite comfortable. I'll not be previewing my October 14 wardrobe, but for the moment, I'm thinking of a MaxMara long dress I've only worn once, with something to cover the arms, as yet unbought.

More on all of this later.

Someone in the comments said that the Booker was only bettered by the Nobel, and I think that's probably true. It is the international literary prize that has the most attention from the media. It is not open to American writers, but then the Pulitzer is only open to US citizens and the National Book Award is only open to books published in the US, which rules out many writers, such as myself, who have had difficulty getting a US deal. Regular readers will recollect that I posted a rejection letter from one major house which raved about the book but said it was 'too British' for the American readers. There has, in the past few months, been a huge upswing in Anglophilia in the US. This I'm sure can be only reason why, in the twenty-four hours after the shortlist announcement, eleven major American publishers contacted my agent to ask if they could be sent copies to consider.

There is an import edition currently available on Amazon.com with a 2-4week delivery time , but anyone abroad who'd like to order would do better with the Book Depository, which offers books at Amazon.uk prices but free delivery worldwide and has several fulfilment centres in the US.

This is a wonderful shortlist to be on (sorry, Sir Salman, I'm sure your time will come) and I'm particularly thrilled to share the list with the wonderful and funny Sebastian Barry and the great Indian writer Amitav Ghosh. Someone remarked on the fact that I am the only woman on the shortlist. It is ten years since this was last the case and sixteen since an all-male shortlist caused such outrage that it led to the creation of the Orange Prize. One lamentable exclusion was a short and extraordinary book by the Australian writer Helen Garner. It's called The Spare Room and was described by Peter Carey as the 'perfect book'.

So five weeks to go until the big night. Several people have raised questions about the press photos. here's the thing, any day now I must get round to contacting all those papers which took flattering pics of me over the years and ask them to delete the ones that are nearly a decade old and replace them with ones of me looking older and wiser.

I'd particularly like to commend that newspaper of record the International Herald Tribune for knocking five years of my age.

For the record, this remains my favourite picture of myself. It's six years old but it looks like me, and it is me. It was taken by one of my closest friends, more used to photographing warlords with the latest must-have AK47. I asked him if he would do mendacious flattery but he said not for love nor money, no.
Of course that was before Roger sorted out my fringe.

NOTE: The Jaeger dress isn't the one I'll be wearing at the black tie dinner on the 14th October, it's the one I wore at the shortlist party at the V&A on Tuesday night.

Harry Contemplates Modernity

For some men, skin care and grooming goes beyond a quick shave. In fact, some men – both "metrosexuals" and the simply fastidious – have long followed a strict cleanse, tone and moisturise routine. And now, a new beauty must-have tailored specifically for 'im Indoors has arrived.

The article in Tuesday’s Independent is referring to the launch of YSL’s Touche Eclat for Men.
( read it here)

I don’t know about ‘must have’. For me it’s more a case of must try to understand exactly what it is they are talking about.
I thought I would refer to this feature before the Thoughtful Dresser brought it to my attention. She regards my ignorance of male cosmetics ( that’s probably the wrong term) as quite neanderthal.
I am not quite sure why I remain in a state of ignorance. Way back in the late 60’s I was an early adopter. Well, at least as far as hair was concerned. Tame, a hair conditioner, was for me an utterly radical discovery. ( This was in the days when it was assumed we all had dandruff because the only shampoos in our house were ‘medicated’) And then came Cossack hair spray for men. A black and red canister with the silhouette of a charging Cossack. It didn’t exactly transform my life but it did help keep the mod hair cut in place. I thought it was rather sophisticated. My father, however, found my use of it just a little bit questionable.
Anyhow YSL’s new product launch reminds me that I really should investigate the two Clinique products that TTD has brought to my attention. Apparently I should be using them regularly.
I guess it may be time to get modern all over again.
And I know modern will mean no more pictures of Cossacks.


Note: My searches have not found a picture of the male version of the product. So I have put the wrong picture in rather than a photo of an investment banker (which is what the Independent used.)

Get a load of

this

Normal service will be resumed as soon as all the fuss dies down

Harry Mentions Handbags

I notice that the Thoughtful Dresser hasn’t mentioned handbags recently.
I am stepping outside my comfort zone by venturing into this territory. I know little about the current mania for these rather expensive accessories.
However, on my recent trip to Paris I stayed with my old friend James. He has been resident there for ten years and offers consultancy to a number of businesses who require intelligent marketing input from an urbane Brit with several languages and a wealth of experience.
In comparing notes on each other’s current pre-occupations he informed me that he had recently been retained by an LA based brand, Romanek, purveyors of high fashion handbags.
I have to confess that this is a name that I wasn’t familiar with.
Anyhow, he e- mailed me recently and amongst other things told me that the new Romanek web site is up and running. And in the spirit of returning a favour I am drawing it to your attention.
I believe that the Thoughtful Dresser favours Anya Hindmarch.
But I gather that the Romanek ‘Rockstar’ ( above) is often to be seen at glitzy functions. And the Thoughtful Dresser will be attending a very prestigious one in a few weeks time. Congratulations from Harry.

The Booker Prize shortlist

. . . . is announced.

The Secret Scripture - Sebastian Barry

The Sea of Poppies - Amitav Ghosh Murray

The Clothes on Their Backs - Linda Grant

The Northern Clemency - Philip Hensher

A Fraction of The Whole - Steve Toltz

The White Tiger - Aravind Adiga

The shortlisted authors were informed last Wednesday as keen-eyed readers of this site might have worked out.

All shortlisted authors will be doing a reading at the South Bank Centre in London 13 October. Details here

Something wrong with the universe

New collection from Marks and Spencer*

New collection from Victoria Beckham

* Available up to size 20

Playing your greens

America

A man in heels

AA Gill gets in touch with his feminine side. I've always had a soft spot for him, having shared a make-up chair with him a few years back:

The first thing that struck me as I opened the box was how excited — despite myself — I was to have got them, my first pair of patent red stilettos. I say excited not in the tumescent, opening-dark-closets way, but in the birthday-present, new-kit sense. The second thing I thought was, Christ, these are difficult to get on. You can’t just plunge your feet into them. You have to be sitting down. And then you have to be sort of erected, like . . . like . . . an erectable erection thingy. And third and finally, I thought, aaaaaaahhhh f***! The agony. The AGONY! According to internet facts, the pressure on the heel of a stiletto is greater than that of an elephant standing on one foot. How this was verified is unknown — who lay under the elephant, and then their mother’s heels, and screamed: “This one’s much worse”?
. . .
And not for the first time I marvelled at how much work and technique goes into being a woman. As opposed to just being a man, which means getting up and getting your zip on the right way round. There is so much more to master in being a mistress — all adolescent boys should be made to wear stilettos for a day, to teach them respect.

Anti-greige: a manifesto, of sorts

A few months ago, it was announced that Patricia Field would be designing a collection for Marks and Spencer. That collection opened, slightly oddly, in New York yesterday. It will include:

flirty, 1950’s-style, puffball dresses in scarlet polka-dot jacquard and rose-print taffeta, which will cost £75 and £99, and a turquoise, angel-sleeved, silk shift, based on the dress the actress wore in the “Baby Shower Scene” in the SATC film, which will also cost £75.

A black, sequined catsuit, at £99, and a skin-tight, black and white striped military jacket, £75, worn with gold leggings, were in the style of the sex-mad character of Samantha, played by Kim Cattrall.

Ms Kate Bostock, the executive director of all clothing at Marks & Spencer, watched the show from a ringside seat. She described the Patricia Field collection, developed with co-designer, David Dalrymple, as one of the most adventurous projects in the British high street chain’s history.

Field was at the show

. . . wearing a short blue Lurex mini-dress from her M&S collection, £60, and black, platform Dior stilettos which cost about ten times as much.

“If I can wear the clothes, anybody can,” she said. “Fashion is about enjoying clothes and having fun; it’s not about age.”

I slightly fear that the mad old bag look is upon us. It's such a tricky call, to go with the beige classics and die slowly inside, or follow the mutton route and be laughed at behind your back. I am starting to think that a touch of vulgarity, or blatant sex appeal, might be the hot chilli needed to spice up an outfit when you hit 50 (and Field is in her 60s, I believe)

On the other hand, some of the pieces look like 1980s market stall revival.

How do you solve a problem like Maria?

I'd rather go barefoot

Yesterday morning I spent an hour in Selfridge's shoe department having decided to let slip the dogs of finance and splash out on a pair of stupendous evening shoes - Jimmy Choo, Gina, Louboutin, bring it on. Brief, these shoes will go with a long dress, be worn climbing in and out of taxis, bearable to take an hour standing up for cocktails, followed by dinner and then quick to slip on under the table cloth if called upon to make a sudden move. Budget, £300+

There were exactly three pairs of shoes in Selfridge's which did not have towering, needle-thin spikey heels, I mean really, really high. The first pair (Chanel) were too narrow, the second (also Chanel) they didn't have in my size, and the third (Jimmy Choo) were £540. What?!

As Jess Cartner-Morley said in the Guardian yesterday:

After all, the whole women-and-shoes thing spun off the crazy chart ages ago. A pair of Jimmy Choos has become a ritual way to celebrate: a special occasion, a pay rise or even (for Rebecca Adlington) an Olympic gold. With this much symbolism invested in shoes, it is inevitable that they are beginning to look less and less like functional footwear.

If you look at the websites of these designers, they do in fact make shoes with lower heels, but Selfridge's buyers didn't order them, they told me, and where they did, they sold out at once. They always look baffled when they tell you something like this has sold out. Why would women want fabulous shoes they can actually walk in? Such a mystery.

Barbra, is that you?

A sex bomb? You couldn't have become a doctor?

The 30 most stylish british women

Reignite your patriotism here

We weren't interested in women who 'buy in' their style in the form of an expensive stylist. We were looking for women who dress themselves, and who dress for themselves - women who don't give a damn (or not much of one, anyway) about what anyone else thinks. They might be a Classicist (Jane Birkin in black), they might be a Maverick (Vivienne Westwood in red - dress and hair), but whatever their chosen style each of our 30 British-born women is true to who she is.

To my surprise, we judges found it remarkably easy to draw up our list. Many of them are names you will know, some of them you may not… yet. Do you agree with our choice?

A Republican handbag

The Peg

Don't my legs look long in these!

You know you are entering a dark tunnel when the general public is being sent to fashion Re-education Camp. You remember the great film The Manchurian Candidate when the US soldier was captured by South Koreans and brainwashed into believing he should kill the president (approximate plotline)?

This is what's happening to trousers this season. You know, I know, the whole world knows that trousers that balloon around your hips and thighs, cropped above the ankle to make your legs looks shorter are NOT Flattering.

This is why we have to be told repeatedly, that we are totally wrong and they are.

The Guardian today devotes a whole piece to them:

Bona fide peg-leg trousers aren't hard to spot. They usually have two front pleats at the waistband that are designed to add volume in the hip area, then balloon out in the thigh before tapering in again at the ankle. They can also be cropped on the ankle and high-waisted. Admittedly, they sound alarm bells for most of us - extra volume around the thighs is always a hard sell. What's more they look rubbish on the hanger. But, if you want to look on-trend for less than £50 this autumn, this is the only retail leap of faith you need make.

At the collections six months ago, the new trouser shape instantly stood out. At YSL, models wearing black bowl-cut wigs, polo necks and fierce ankle boots marched peg-leg trousers down the catwalk. At Louis Vuitton, Marc Jacobs paired them with rounded shoulders and spiralling headpieces, which sounds fearsome enough without the knowledge that some of these trousers were actually in leather. Challenging is perhaps the best euphemism for those particular peg-legs. Even Phillip Lim, the American designer who has won the hearts of women in search of wearable, fashion-forward clothes, showed a peg-heavy collection. The gauntlet had been well and truly laid down.

Here's my prediction. Women are now far more savvy about trends than they were even a decade ago, and we have the make-over shows to thank for that. Most women over the age of 20 are just not going to wear unflattering clothes. Most women didn't wear skinny jeans for obvious reasons (the clue being in the name). And after languishing a couple of years, of guess what, the boot cut is back. Why? Because they're the only shape that's flattering for pears. And there are more pears than beanpoles. Women are just not that stupid.

Yves St Laurent - his legacy

Vicki Woods, who I occasionally run into at parties, has a lovely piece on Yves St Laurent in the Telegraph with an accompanying illustration of sketches for his 1967 show:

It falls to very few dressmakers to effect radical, universal change on women's dress. Saint Laurent was one. Pierre Bergé has said over and over: 'Chanel liberated women; Saint Laurent gave them power.' Translation: Chanel chucked out 1,000 years of corseting; Saint Laurent stopped women in trousers looking like subversive cross-dressers.

In June the telly coverage of his almost-state funeral gave a walking proof of that. As the coffin, draped in the tricolour, arrived at the Eglise Saint-Roch, it was met by the French head of state and his wife. Being on presidential duty, Nicolas Sarkozy naturally wore the formally tailored masculine uniform of every male politician, diplomat and white-collar worker across the West, ie a two-piece business suit in sober-coloured cloth.

But so did his wife. Carla Bruni-Sarkozy was a) uncorseted and b) in a black jumper (both thanks to Chanel) and wearing a sober, unadorned, tailored trouser-suit in charcoal grey - thanks to Saint Laurent. Half the women mourners (many former YSL models, as Bruni was) were in 'I'm serious' trouser-suits: the direct result of the masculin/féminin silhouette he exploded on to the world in the late 1960s.

Who's ever seen Condoleezza Rice in anything but a pantsuit? She, you, me and every 20-year-old who (even reluctantly) only has one trouser-suit in her wardrobe for days when nothing else will do the business - we are Yves Saint Laurent's legacy.

That thing that's happening in America.

Yesterday I was asked at very short notice to fill in for another columnist at the Guardian and turn round a piece in an hour. I wrote about Sarah Palin and small town American values. If you'd like to read the piece it's here. If you'd like to comment I request you do it on the Guardian's site, not this one. I can't turn off comments for one post only, and I don't want to pre-screen comments unless it's really necessary. So head off there and join the fire storm.

Small post of little interest

I don't imagine there'll be a lot of interest in this, but the Telegraph on Sunday had a special issue on 25 ways to look younger which don't involve surgery. I've already made a booking for one treatment, but that's just me, I can't imagine anyone else would be remotely bothered to check out any of this stuff.