When There’s a Voice

One of my pandemic accomplishments is the rather early completion of everything that Netflix (and the internet) has available in English. This forced me to explore French production, and I started with the series Call My Agent, or Dix Pour Cent. (Emily in Paris does not count as French TV even though they do speak French “Oh yes, I mean, oui” and have a cardboard Eiffel Tower as a backdrop.) I realised that not only does Dix Pour Cent keep me entertained, but I will be able to add another impressive entry on my list of sabbatical accomplishments: mastering an arsenal of French swearwords with zero effort on my part.

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Live! Laugh! Love!

A week ago we marvelled at the words “when the day comes we step out of the shade, aflame and unafraid“. Their author Amanda Gorman already stepped out aflame: as the latest model to have signed with IMG Models, as per the internet. I am not here to judge – the octogenarian author Joan Didion also did a spot of modelling as the face of Céline’s sunglasses in 2015. Times are tough for writers, and Gorman is very young, so she is wise to capitalise on her megawatt notoriety as much as she can. As the saying goes: poetry, but make it fashun.

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No Rain on Style Parade

Was it really just a couple of days ago that I complained about the momentary lack of sartorial entertainment? Oh well. Wednesday not only introduced to the world a slew of new style icons, but also brought back the lost art of laughing at regular political satire and memes. Also there was Bernie and yes, a new president was sworn in.

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Awards Season Reader

In normal times this would be when the rich and fabulous gather on far and away beaches to work on their tan for the awards season. Them, plus herds of paparazzi to immortalise the stars’ extraordinary moments. This year, alas, it’s only been Jennifer Lopez’ backside in Turks and Caicos that has perkily greeted me every morning as I open the internet.

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