Read Camilla Long's weekly column in out Comment section here
Another week, another desolate schlep through the sand-blasted, echoing wilds of Jennifer Aniston’s Narnian baby cave. As part of the 45-year-old actress’s unspoken agreement with Hollywood/magazines/us, she must now apparently answer questions about not having babies at all times. So now she has reminded us for the thousandth time that she “doesn’t have a check list” and doesn’t feel as if she has “failed in her feminism”, but she has “birthed a lot of things. I feel like I’ve mothered many things. And I don’t think it’s fair to put that pressure on people.”
Please, please, please can we stop asking poor Jennifer for updates on her foof? I have actually got to the point where I want to know about her most recent rubbish film more than I do about the latest reasons for her totally unmysterious no-babies thing. I am far more interested in Brad Pitt’s psychic, for example, who recently claimed that he still loves Aniston, and that Angelina Jolie makes him feel “boxed in”, than I am in how Aniston feels this particularly Tuesday about fannies.
The same goes for Cameron Diaz, another childless star who has impressively scratched her way up from nothing to achieving the world’s top abs. But any interview with Diaz always contains the same question: what is her “hungry” vagina thinking today? Does it want more? Is it sad that it is so empty and unfulfilled? Does it weep silent songs of woe? To which the answer is “No”.
These women haven’t “forgotten” to have babies. They aren’t “failing” to find someone to give them what they’ve always wanted (nappies and a face full of toddler sick). Aniston isn’t someone who has “missed the boat” or “can’t get a man”. She’s one of the highest paid hot babes in Hollywood, for God’s sake. Because the question, “Why haven’t you had children?” has an obvious and unglamorous answer, which is, maybe they don’t want to? I can’t think of a section of the female population with more choices than beautiful actresses who earn at least $10m a year. I can’t think of a more liberated, controlled, sassy set of women than Aniston and Diaz and other women who haven’t had their own children, like Sandra Bullock and Charlize Theron. So the idea that we need to endlessly question their biological decisions is patronising and absurd, and so circuitous that sometimes I think they might as well just hire their fannies separate publicists, agents and managers, as well as full support from the wig department.
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There are so many other questions I want to ask Aniston anyway. For example: did Friends put her off hair? Has she ever tried Shellac? And what does she think of Brad Pitt’s psychic? If “he always loved her, and still loves her”, why did Brad and Angie just get married?
Giro couture
Apparently, there’s a magnificent phrase going round the couture houses that sums up this autumn’s look. “Banal plus” is “a celebration of everything ordinary”, says the fashion editor, “like normcore, but with diamonds”. The point of banal plus is that you spend thousands on dirty bags and ripped leggings in order to look like Benefits Street’s White Dee. This is because White Dee is “exactly the same as Cara Delevingne. They both have horrible tattoos, and neither of them wears a bra,” he says. White Dee was “totally” the inspiration for Chanel’s recent “giro couture” show, set in a supermarket, featuring its iconic quilted bags vacuum-packed “like steaks you would find in a Tesco essentials range”. But is there any way for us civilians to look this amazing dans la rue, I shriek. “Buy anything that’s sold in tubs on the street,” he triple-clicks. “A Care Bears nightie, easy-entry shoes, trackie bums with a stripe. Customise with stains — then add diamonds.”
Queen Hurley
Someone once told me that Liz Hurley’s method during bikini shoots included spreading her legs before whinnying like a horse to get the perfect pout. She has now apparently made a whole film inspired by this look. The Royals is a television series that poses the deathless question: what would happen if the royal family came from Essex? “Let me recap my week,” drawls Hurley as the fake-tanned cougar Queen Helena. “My daughter’s vagina was on the cover of four tabloids. My son is dating an employee. My husband has the weight of the world on his shoulders. In case you’ve forgotten, we’re not a normal family.” Or a royal one. Never mind the word “vagina” — no toff would ever say “recap” or “employee”.