HARROW SCHOOL Leavers Concert

Sometimes I feel truly happy to be British, when I like Great Britain and all that it offers. Although I was born in Lebanon, and have a leaning and yearning for the Middle East, I love it here on a bright and sunny day. For nearly a week you couldn't find a more beautiful place to be. On Sunday I went Harrow School, opened during the reign of Elizabeth 1st, to listen to the Leavers Concert. All the boys sang beautifully with their masters, and looked elegant too traditional uniform of tails and a waist coat. Very old fashioned but very smart. What a pity it is thought to be so out of date. They are lucky to be there of course, but they work hard too. It was a wonderful evening, Thank you. They sang pieces from Chess, and other Musicals as well as arias from well known operas.

KAY SAATCHI 's LATEST ANTICIPATION

There are delicious small unknown art collections throughout London, and one of them is owned by Kay Saatchi. Kay really has an interesting eye, fun and colourful and full of enthusiasm. Together with Charles her ex husband, she helped curate and hang roughly thirty shows, at the Saatchi Gallery. It was this ex- golden couple who both introduced me to the art of collecting.
Kay said never buy anything that you don't really have a crush on, and so I have followed her advice when I found something I like. Her charming house is in a small side street in London, white palladium style with masses of character, beautifully decorated in eau de nil and champagne. I love her foxgloves in the bathroom and a pair of stunning oval mirrors. Kay is voluptuous in every way, a blonde of uncertain age, who came from Little Rock Arkansas and married one of the most prominent men in the art world, Charles Saatchi.

Kay now curates her own exhibitions and has been associated with Selfridges. She did two major shows of emerging artists calling the shows "ANTICIPATION" hoping that these young artists would be the Damian Hirsts of the future.

I arrive and she eagerly shows me her perfectly formed Dahlias, show standard, on her front terrace. In pinks deep fuschia they look stunning. As you enter you see one zany piece after another, my favourite is the Ron Mueck 'big baby' on the Piano in the drawing room. The floor in the kitchen is painted with a Damien Hirst copy of a spot painting. Her house is an exciting mix of paintings, a portrait of what looks like one of her friends and a Paula Rego, painting. Together they are hung with her own romantic black and white photographs, that she took herself of her daughter Phoebe. Warhols, Freud all hang, together with enchanting small works by her new discoveries. She is running out of wall space fast, so expect her house to be for sale.

Kay is a true homemaker what a lovely way to spend a Friday Night she is not an Aunt to the Art World but a Sister.
There is an exhibition of artists being shown at Selfridges from tomorrow. Tracey Emin, Kevin Spacey and Anita Zablodowiscz have also nominated an artist each. Kay's choice was an artist she recently discovered called Bouke de Vries, I can't wait, it opens to the public tomorrow for two weeks in the Wonder Room at Selfridges.

THE MYTHS DIE YOUNG

To be a star you have to work hard, and be tough and hard. Can any of us really imagine Michael Jackson old, I can't. An old Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, Mozart or Elvis. It is a difficult tricky life that only a few people can cope with. They are myths who live fast and die young, the rest of us neither have the talent or the inclination, to follow this path. Lets move on, he clearly had an overdose whether he did so readily or not. We should remember that he was a brilliant artist and a star who rocked the world.

"LIVE YOUR LIFE, BE FREE"

It is interesting to see how worked up people get over the death of an iconic figures who die young, such as Princess Di, Marilyn Monroe, and Michael Jackson. Yesterday I told my story of Rushka, just to be told, not for any particular comments or amusement, just so that people knew somebody who had seen Michael Jackson in the last week, however biased they may be. No more and no less. Just to have knowledge. Anyway from 8am up until 13.30pm, I was either playing tennis or watching it. I
I woke to a string of messages from a friend called "Ron" about Michael Jackson and the abuse by his entourage.

That I should also watch whoever I exchange money with because that is all they want, also that my entourage will tell me what I want as long as I am giving them cash.
He went on to discuss the politics to Israel, the cruelty of the British, their Aristocracy, to the perils of Nazi Germany, and how wonderful and free New York is, free from clubs, our classist society in England, our blood sports and the killing of tiny birds for the pleasure of the rich.
Of course I agree with nearly all the things my friend was pointing out, any intelligent person would. The view of my friend was that the family, the doctors, the plastic surgeons, the stylists, the sycophantic friends had all enabled Michael Jackson to become the person be became. Of course he is right too. It is difficult when you are being paid by anyone to be objective, if you are truthful, you will lose your job.

I certainly found that to be true. I was in the lucky, and in the privileged position to employ a lot of people. The entourage can kill, they would have killed me if I had continued down that path. I am truly grateful to all the people that worked for me and some I am genuinely fond of, but it was bad for me to be so attached, and beholden to others. I don't like the lack of privacy, the spongers, the inefficiency that surrounds people.
I hated people in my bedroom, the constant stream of hairdressers, make up artists, cleaners. I was lucky to have them in my life, they all worked to hard, and were nearly always polite, and kind, in fact too kind, they did cause problems, usually with newcomers, and with each other. The constant internal bickering left me with gallstones, a quick temper, and an acute sensitivity to being conned and fear of being on my own.
I did listen to my cynical friend, but I had made up my mind myself, I like being on my own, facing my own life, with all its ups and downs. I don't want to have to sack anyone, I don't want to argue, and I want to be light and free. If only Michael Jackson had had the courage to go on his own too. He might have been a lot happier and not lonely. The loneliness of being surrounded by people on the payroll is far less attractive than anyone on the outside can imagine.
Yes you can get your pain relief quickly but it can kill you too. If only he had been allowed to run free as a child, put his hands in earth once more, go fishing, cook, shop for food, shop for clothes, instead of allowing himself to become a human mannequin. We all get old, and plastic surgeons nowadays try their best to make us not look like freaks, but if you go all the time you of course become one, we all grow old and die. Vanity is fun but its just fun. In Hollywood when you grow old you don't go out if you've been a star. You hide. So however rich, famous,poor whatever, go out, see what is happening, take the tube, run with your sons, eat at the local fish and chips.
I knew I was becoming a big madam when I went to Northolt where the private jets fly from and I made a scene when the plane didn't take off on time. I had to stop this, and although it would not be easy I had to take risks, I would be happier, and now for the most parts I am.
A pity that Michael Jackson didn't have some ranting friend who was willing to take the risk with him and criticise. I have already let go of my driver,
and I am nearly free of all encumbrance, and I shall sieve my friends soon too, and thank you "Ron" for being so brutally honest, but I might not ever see you ever again.

UP AND COMING COOL

Elizabeth Street, is fast becoming seriously social. Ten years ago you could have died in Belgravia because it was so dull, but if I hear once more that it is boring then I shall bring whoever said it to the area and show them. How could it be, it has Baker and Spice, the delicious bakery, that sell my favourite pecan buns, Oliveto, the pizza restaurant, where I see my friends, The New Restaurant of Joseph's,Il Vaporetto, Erickson and Beamon, the best Costume Jewellery in the world,Phillip Treacey, Jenny Packham, a very cute dog shop, a beautiful florist, The Thomas Cubitt Pub, so many places in fact that I think its definitely worth visiting for lunch.

PLEASE DON'T ASK BE AGAIN WHY I WEAR BLACK!

I dress in black, only black, black glasses, black platforms, black thick tights. I am attractive, some say very attractive. In Paris they sing as they pass by "boom be de de boom". They say I am a petite Marilyn. I want to appear thinner than I am, an asparagas, tall and skinny instead of round and healthy.
I like to appear happier than I am. I am not. Do not press me to talk about my feelings, it could make me insane. I just about exist. When people see me they see my hair, my blonde bubbly dyed hair, and red lips. It’s my ace card. I like every one to think I have no memory, but I see everything and notice everything about me in huge detail. I have loads of friends, they protect me, I am loved by my ex husband and boyfriends. They will do anything for me. I am loved, but am unable to feel loved enough. It is a black hole I travel into every day.

I think it’s good to change, to put yourself into difficult situations, I like to move country’s, stay for a year or two and travel again, I hate a relationship when you start to walk five steps behind in boredom, or when you are in neutral, that makes me go one hundred miles in reverse. I like to be free.

MR MICHAEL JACKSON IS DEAD FAREWELL

Michael Jackson dying today will be a serious blow to my generation. As a child star, we all loved him, happy ,cheerful and one of the most talented, if not the most talented, pop stars of our time. As a teenager nobody could beat him, his energy and success brought about enjoyment for all. Few have the dance technique he created.
As he grew older trouble scandal and an obsession about his appearance, made him a neurotic figure in American life. But he was a true eccentric, but like true eccentrics, they feed the public with debate on their behaviour. We should however remember that few people achieve his greatness ever, and he united the world in Michael Jackson power.
My sympathy to all his family and friends and of course RUSHKA BERGMAN, my friend who became so close to him in his last few years of life. She was styling him to the end. Three cheers for the AMERICAN DREAM.

SHOULD IT STAY OR SHOULD IT GO

I now have the luxury of a lovely girl in my closet, she is cataloguing all my wardrobe from the last twenty years. What a business it is. I take one look, cram a new dress in and slam the door crushing all my friendly occupants. I say friendly because I consider my clothes to have characters, especially my favourite ones. Dee the pretty blond, and assistant to Kim Hersov, an Editor at Harper Bazaar, gently teases them into their plastic covers, names them and puts them into order. I put them into order of preference which means that only the same clothes ever get worn. A black Chantale Thomas corset, and a Yves St Laurent chiffon shirt are reliable loves. Of course Dee sees everythings differently and is truly the wardrobe mistress. Be careful never to give anything away or throw those hideous platform round toed Yves St Laurent platforms out they are apparently collectors items on Ebay, and as for Terry Mugler, wish we hadn't given them to our poorer best friend. My wardrobe is an investment as you know, in the wardrobe I don't use, I have over 100 Tuxedo jackets now unless I grow six more bodies some may never be worn again, so what to do with it?.

Some designers apparently pay for their original designes to put in their archive, you can put them on Ebay and get 50 pence. What has just been suggested is that I go into rehab to stop shopping. Now thats a vile idea. I don't take cocaine, heroine, E's, ketamine, alcohol or grass so please leave me alone with my love for clothes.

Sensible shoppers should find their designer and stick with it, with one key piece per season, one winter jacket or one coat. Be a savvy shopper, Go to Harvey Nichols and Browns where the buyers are imaginative. Cruise collections are often cheaper. When a dress is worn to death take it to The Charity shop, Oxfam or Red Cross. Personal Shoppers are tricky and always go to one whose dress sense you admire. Flick through magazines, take note throw it away, and don't look too 'put together', it looks cliche, and you look like everybody else.

Going back to the old clothes. The disasters, my beige pink leopard and flowery jacket of Dolce Gabbana should immediately go to the Red Cross for some teenager to love it, wear to death and be pleased that I made the huge flowery mistake .

HELP, MONEY IS NOT MY THING

Unlike dieting Money is really not my thing. When I was young I never had any, and thought a lot of money was 250,000 pounds, now of course I have to learn. It is hell and very boring but anything new interests me. In fact, my sons make it a lot of fun. They run up the stairs saying things like "sell Paris today Mummy" and re value my assets on a weekly basis. When I broke up with Johan, I sent back all his financial books in black plastic bags, woman usually send back their ex husbands suits, but I found those strangely comforting. Johan laughed when he received them, and suggested that it might be a good idea if I kept one or two. I am trying to like bank statements, maths and have learnt what a "put" option is. It is when somebody can buy something back by an agreed time, and the price discussed at the time. Saying I would do that has been my worst investment. I get updates on the dollar and euro against the pound.
One piece of advice my sons gave, and they argue about it continually, is whether or not I should buy clothes. Jack sees clothes as an investment, he thinks you must look good and make an effort. I like that type of man, whilst Charlie hates me buying clothes and believes I should be imaginative with what I have got.
I only like property, I can see the bricks, make them pretty and sell them. They feel real. I don't like shares, lifeless balance sheets, hedge funders, and Lloyds of London, the latter with who many lost everything. I don't like insurance either, and have only just started paying into BUPA. That too has problems for me, because to pay directly for an operation, might be cheaper than the insurance.. However I am at a dodgy age and thought it was better to organize myself, just incase.
I also sweet talk the men in my life to give me free advice, ask them endless questions, and ask especially the richer ones.
I like art too, see smell the paint thing agrees with me, plus it improves your social life as the artists are fun.
Charity is a good direction too, I love helping the British Film Institute, and the London Symphony Orchestra. Try your most enigmatic smile and most men crumble and tell you all.

APHRODITE
VENUS
GLIDING FROM HER
MOUNTAIN REST
THE HARP
PLAYING BEFORE HER
HER FACE
SMOOTH AND FRESH WITH
SPRING DEW
HER FEET HARDLY
TOUCHING THE MOSSY
FLOOR
THE GNARLED WOODEN
BED OF TREES
INCHING THEIR WAY
TO SPRING WATER
ALIVE
FOR BIRDS AND SQUIRRELS
YOUNG CHILDREN SKIPPING
PLAYING AMONGST THE
LEAVES
THROUGH THE SHADED
PATH OF LIGHT DRIVEN TREES

BRING GRANNY BACK

Since we are all suffering in one way or another, the excesses of yesterday it would be great if we could be greener, more economical, less wasteful.. I am seriously going to try to like green in every way, green skin, green vegetables, green, but can we also do something about the lolling scruffy unattractive unshaven youths with hoodies of today. I can’t stand it anymore. With so many people thinking they like clothes and with people like Trinny Woodall doing their best to help them, wouldn’t it be perfect if the yobboes of today became a little less scruffy. Oxford Street is pulsating with sweaty overweight badly dressed and spoken individuals, overladen with huge amounts of plastic bags, and wearing shorts, hoodies, gym shoes looking thoroughly disgusting, and yet, they pretend to be followers of fashion. Marks and Spencers, Primark, Top Shop, Arrogant Cat, Selfridges, Hennes, Whistles, Jigsaw etc, have employed designers, like Karl Largerfeld, Stella McCartney, Kenzo, with good ideas and shapes to design for us, seriously chic and also useful clothes, from size 0 to size 28, and all reasonably priced. With Heat, Grazia, and the Sunday Magazines giving brilliant style tips, and most celebs looking pretty stunning, why is it that the average Britain manages to make themselves so unattractive. We live in one of the most interesting countries in the world, and despite all the financial problems we are prosperous, and reasonably educated. So, why do we have to look as if we are a nation of once a week washers, chewing gum and spitting..I think the problem is we have locked and drugged the Grannies up in homes, when they used to scream like matriachs at everybody keeping them ship shape. My grand-mother taught me everything, from cooking, to sewing, to playing the piano, and I remember vividly as a child sitting on my grand fathers knee and him saying “It’s no use just being pretty, you had better be interesting”. For instance my grandmother and aunt would lecture me on changing for dinner, brushing my hair, washing endlessly. ”Look pretty for your husband when he comes home” They would lecture me on my use of language, don’t swear, steal, be tidy, work, don’t sulk.. Yes the problem lies with this we don’t want to look after our old people. I say close the homes and bring the Grannies back.

SOCIAL WHIRL

I didn't manage to make Ascot, the shoes all looked wrong in my cupboard, and I only managed to get to Philip Treacey today to buy a hat, but I am saving it for the Bismarck Anniversary do on the Theme of Tropicana. Of course I wear nothing but black so I now have a black Tropicana hat. All the others will be wearing pink, yellow and lots of foliage, so I found something suitably sober. I love that shop in Elizabeth Street. It has magical hats, elaborate and like Stephen Jones, Philip has the air of a shy genius. Now I have decided to change tracks and not move out of the area. How can I leave Oliveto, Baker and Spice, I might die if I can't get a bun... Shh I am still on my diet and all in all I lost 7 pounds I think.. I cheated this first day on the scales, so it could be more or less.

Last night I went to Tracey Emin's lecture at White Cube I couldn't stay because I was doing a reading of Cloak and Dagger Butterfly at Sketch, Conduit Street. It was given by Louis Vuitton's Sue Whiteley, who loves the Art World. Very generously LV support several art events, and as usual they did it with flare. Masses of canapes and champagne went by but nothing I swear passed my lips. I spoke to Michael White, who told me a wonderful story about how he had bought a Lempicka painting, the one with the green dress, for six hundred pounds in fact he bought several from somebody Hartnell.. Of course my little ears pricked up, and I asked him to stay.

I rushed off to Sketch for the poetry reading unable to listen to Tracey. Sketch is very groovy, Paridise Row Art Gallery, had taken it over for the night and I was one of the lucky ones reading. But dieting and reading out loud is enough to make me sick so I got this bomb of a girl called Melinda to do it. She read them much more erotically than I could have done, as I am far too shy, it makes me feel sick with nerves. I had Lyall Watson there my drama school coach, and Melinda wowed us with her acting..

I am frankly still a bit weak from this diet.. I don't have my usual energy and looking for house is driving me crazy. I have discovered that Belgravia is very good value and will stay here, so my dream of gardening will be put on hold.. The house I like has a garden, so I can do a little planting and see a little green, amongst the pavements..

DOROTHY DRAPER's MAD EXCITING DECORATION

Her eye-popping colors, oversize prints, and controlled flourishes once defined urban interior sophistication. Now the exuberantly anti-Minimalist Dorothy Draper is front and center again.

MANY DREAMS COME TRUE, The passionate Decorators.

Pictures of Madeleine Castaing.
The good thing about dieting it gives me more time to think, and be organized. So in my head I am decorating Strawberry House. My best girlfriend Danny Moudaber will be decorating it in parts like Dorothy Draper, the famous American decorator. She was famous for using outsized white plaster against mirror as surrounds of fireplaces. Huge furniture in strong colours. checked black and white floors. So film starry, I now can't wait to live there. I won't be listening to the tales of woe from friends and family. A 12 minute journey seems a little price to pay for fantasy.
Danny also went through her other favourite Madeleine Castaing, a flamboyant French woman who liked leopard carpet wall to wall and 19th furniture. She had enormous wit and style decorating accordingly. Dying in the 1990's at a grand old age, never touching her face.
Dorothy Draper for me has the glamour I need and like. although I am a huge fan club for both.
I also have a crush of Sera Loftus Hershman, who has some delicious wallpapers that I have used before and a new floor that looks like lace. A wonderful romantic who lives in a Chocolate Tower in North London. I have worked with her before taking many of the photographs she uses. Together we have done several projects. This week on Wednesday at Sketch we are reading my poetry, Sera is making me, although I am very nervous and rather sick at the thought of it. We are both lovers of burlesque and freedom. Her lace and rose gold and black wallpaper, are true passions of mine.

WINDOW CLEANERS AND RED BULLS BEAT BETH DITTO

Up bright and early in an attempt to be skinny despite people's latest crush on Beth Ditto. Four days into this detox, I am alive, I have cheated with 3 bananas (= 312 calories), 2 redbulls, and 2 coffees. Not bad for me, as I am a lover of protein and have had to eat more vegetables than I have ever eaten in my life. Standing straight on my scales and no longer holding onto the towel rail I can proudly come in at 60 kilos Of course I want to be less. I have a huge craving for buttered scones. I began to quite like the girls from Brazil yesterday, having wanted to stab them the day before. Shopping cures all and somehow brings a bonding, like being in the birthing rooms. We went to Top shop and I found a fabulous leather jacket to die for with short sleeves, so cute, for forty pounds. I actually have never had so much energy although I do have to be fed on time. I skipped the coffee enema, by the skin of my teeth this morning. I said I was making my bed instead and that it was Sunday. Sunday, luckily, is sacred and I don't think it goes with bodily functions. (I do hate sharing these dreadful things in front of people I don't know.) Today, Greta Scacchi reveals all by showing us her body. I had always been her greatest fan until, with a fish, she displayed all Come on, lets keep the myth that we are young. Personally, I don't like flesh showing unless it's perfect. I'd be happy to wear a burka, if it were not. I never understand the outcry that the west makes over the burka. It could rescue us from builder's stares - or in my case, the window cleaner saying to me yesterday: "I've had a crush on you for 17 years and will follow you wherever you live." Although flattered, of course, I wanted to lock myself in my bedroom, just in case he meant it.

SHOULD I STAY OR SHOULD I GO

It is such a tricky decision moving, but I feel I have to. After seventeen years in the same place, Chester Square, London SW1, I don't want to be known as just a Belgravia girl who likes pavements. This of course is true. However, in the next few years I want to experiment with green. I would like to see the river and live horizontally not vertically. I have found my paradise in Chiswick Mall. When I mention this to my friends and children you would have thought I was moving to the moon. I am very flattered that people love me, but why won't they love me just as much if I live in Chiswick? With so much against it, I am beginning to think I am doing the wrong thing. Maybe I will be lonely on a cold winter's night. Maybe I will be socially ignored, perhaps I am paying too much, perhaps perhaps and perhaps. Between rats, damp, no friends and loneliness, I don't know what to think. Two days ago I drove out there and it was midday I arrived at !2.12pm. I was assured by my son just now that this is a one off. You see I imagine myself sitting outside with picnics on the banks of the River Thames, having my aunt to stay with her two girls, nearly my daughters as my cousin died. So I imagine a full house, lots of friends, fires, weeding the garden, listening to music, etc etc and still being able to make The Chelsea Flower Show, Lunch at San Lorenzo, Harry's Bar, Zuma and Scotts; still enjoy going to three parties a night for five minutes each. I can't really see the problem. I will just leave one hour in case of disaster.

PIA GETTY's PARTY HOUSE, I LOVE HER WINGS

What a whirlwind of excitement I had last night, well sort of. I rushed off in the middle of the tube strike to go to the MCM store on Sloane Street and see my friend Connie Filipello. Connie has given me numerous jobs with Italian Vogue and I owe her the support. There were masses of handbags - all in bright, happy, summer colours - that I loved, but I am simple in this area. Basically, my Yves St Laurent handbag is my friend and I feel I am unfaithful if I put my fingers into anything else (though I did fall for a chic Kara Ross bag last week - or rather, several Kara Ross's).
Anyway, there is no room for anything new in my wardrobe, now that I am trying to be more green. How long this will last will be anybody's guess - but I am trying. I am also trying to stick to my diet. I have two Brazilians in my house, cooking and pummeling me, and unless they feed me on time, I could knife somebody. I can't be starved. My gallstones, however ,are not nagging me, and today is the second day. I have screamed at the girls because they were shopping when I needed to be fed - but I think I had lost some weight by this morning. For breakfast I am given an apple, watercress and celery drink, and at 11am an apple with walnuts. For lunch they cooked a sesame and watercress burger with tomatoes. Thinking I was going to die, I asked a friend to sneak in a Red Bull. I am no good at giving up coffee, and realise I am a caffeine addict. Well I don't drink, smoke joints or take coccaine, so I have to have some failings. My friend who is with me now says I should take up pot and calm down.
Getting back to last night, after MCM, I went to the Grosvenor House Antiques Fair, which was full of delicious antiques. Some were even not too expensive, which is is a total miracle. I looked for some friends, but the event had a rather staid feel, like visiting an ancient aunt. Everybody was terribly polite, in a jolly-hockey sort of way - perhaps because the Duchess of Cornwall was attending - so I felt I had to behave. But really, the GHAF could do with having Peaches Geldof on its committee. I could only stay for a few minutes because I wanted to guzzle my soup. "Drink slowly" I was told. Too bad, I had already finished it.
Then off out again to Pia Getty's amazing house, an enormous place in Chelsea. with Gurkhas guarding it. (How cool is that?) In fact, the whole house is an adventure - thank god she is imaginative in that New York. uptown, golden-girl way. With pheasant wings on her back, she greeted us all. I couldn't stay long, because I was surrounded by such delicious canapes, it took all my will power to say no.

TOM FORD "I HOPE I AM NICE". An exclusive interview at Harrods, oops Selfridges

T
Tom Ford is looking good, broad shoulders, small waist, slim arms, perfectly groomed, dishy and masculine, no longer in the skinny jeans and jacket of the Gucci Days. Architect, Fashion Designer, Business Man, he has created and built up quite a few empires. Tom Ford is so many things that he becomes a super hero. Surprisingly he admits to being an introvert, anxious and a lover of being on his own. This he has only found out recently. He was astonishingly good at school, and the students wanted to kill him. He loves his Mother and won't tell her age as she wouldn't like it., but she looks good. His family are normal his sister teaches English in Los Angeles. From this start he has become a demi God, and a likeable one too. At the moment he is doing his first feature film, and has been editing it for the last 5 months.. He plans to do several more too. From riding, manure and sweat he has taken the world by storm. Are you interested in Politics?he is asked. No he says, but if only, I think. He admires Obama as the shining new force in America. He has the ability to be shocking and pure in the same sentence. He has a long term lover.
Wow, and I want to have dinner with him tonight, because he exudes a sexuality, that is a rarity. One bit of advice, he gave is, if you wish to be iconic, find your style and keep to it. He believes fashion does not need changing so rapidly, it is driven by journalists and the society we live in. As for old age, he doesn't intend to look old, he wants to touch his toes at eighty, drive, be fit and look good at all times.

SOME THINGS ARE JUST NEVER FORGOTTEN

ILIE AND AMALIA NASTASE'S DINNER FOR THE ROMANIAN TRAVEL INDUSTRY

It could have been a dull dinner, but nothing is dull with these two. If nothing else it is fun to watch the Romanians, and try and work out what they do. Looking like a mixture of mafia and business men they know how to have fun. Amalia stands out as Queen Bee, dressed in Lanvin she is the picture of elegance and should be Alberto's muse. Her creamy skin, perfect make up, and a "Louise Brooks" haircut, she has perfect taste. Ilie is Mothers dream man, he welcomed me into the Tennis World when Johan bought Head. Bjorn Borg and Ilie included us in everything, without them, tennis for me would have been a less sparkling event. Roland Garros is my favourite Championship, more than Wimbledon, but then Paris holds a special place in my heart. Sad I won't be seeing Nadal win this year. Some people really do have the "IT" factpr.

THE BALANCE OF POWER

I went and voted today, for the only candidate who had the manners to call on me.

NICKY HASLAM SINGING COLE PORTER

Nicky's muckers came out in force, Etonians out of the closet. All were at Bellamys to hear him sing and reminisce. He told stories of Marlene, Marilyn, Wallace, Truman, not to mention Irving, Diana and Noel, whilst kissing his friends in the audience. Everybody was on his side, everyone loves Nicky. Dressed in black, his hair was immaculate, his make=up, too. And before he should forget anything, Hannah Rothschild is making a documentary about him, so the whole world can appreciate his humour, caustic wit and fun. Nicky should be congratulated on being word perfect. Only after a dozen or songs did he sadly stop.

ROYAL ACADEMY OF ART SUMMER PARTY

I arrived and there were two entrances on a long a blue carpet, rather terrifying whether to go left or right. Should
I be photographed or not. I hate the feeling of whether you look good enough to feature in Friday's ES Magazine!. I went with Charlie my son, who had never been. Rooms were laden with paintings, so many squashed together that it would take a whole day to give proper consideration to any. I will have to brave the traffic and have tea at The Wolsey for another visit. Some things in the Summer I really enjoy. As I came out Beth Ditto arrived, with her entourage. Voted the sexiest woman alive and featuring in LOVE Magazine on the front cover, we better take note.