Last week I headed into Mayfair, a woman on a mission. My target was Selfridges’ Beauty Hall. It might seem perverse in these times when hardly anyone sees us, but I was craving a new concealer to help with the cavernous under-eye shadows that are Zoom’s speciality.
I was also curious to see what it would be like to shop in this new world. In our lockdown bubbles we’ve seen the same minuscule group of people, and spent our days in one place, perhaps walking to the local shop.
Some of those shops have now been closed for months but the landscape has become familiar; the queue outside the post office, the longer line snaking from the Co-op, the security guy counting us in. And now, thankfully, that more shops are opening up, our immediate neighbourhood doesn’t seem so very far from normal.
Unlike the scene I discovered in the centre of London, which was post-apocalyptic. It was the first time I was confronted by what the virus had done to Britain’s capital city. Street after street of what was previously the nerve centre of a bustling metropolis has been reduced to a cheerless husk. A petrified forest of empty stucco-fronted offices, dark theatres, lifeless iconic hotels and countless famous eating spots shut down (as evidenced by the sad closure last week of media and showbiz haunt Le Caprice), waiting for the kiss of life.
Last week I headed into Mayfair, a woman on a mission. My target was Selfridges’ Beauty Hall (stock photo)
And as for the shopping… well, that was pretty weird. As someone who enjoys visiting shops and finding bits and pieces I never knew I wanted, I imagined I was going to bound euphorically out of the starting gate.
But that didn’t happen. In fact it was the reverse. In the famous Selfridges’ Beauty Hall, the masked counter attendants were eager and helpful but if we’re unable to test a sample for shade or texture – or in many cases to even be allowed to look at a sample bottle – there’s no reason to be there. What’s the point of going to a Chanel beauty counter if you can’t ponder over which precise orange nail polish you are going to plump for?
Up the elevator marked with social distancing yellow spots, the floors were filled with beautiful clothes but empty of shoppers. Usually I would have rifled through the rails, probably tried on a couple of things, or at least flicked over a pair of Miu Miu sandals to check the price.
But I didn’t touch a scrap. Wasn’t even tempted. Because here’s the thing. It wasn’t the fear that I might be infected by this dreaded virus that stopped me but the possibility that I might be the contagion. Knowing anything I touched or wore would then have to be cleaned or quarantined made me feel like a leper. Not a very conducive state of mind for spending money.
In the famous Selfridges’ Beauty Hall, the masked counter attendants were eager and helpful but if we’re unable to test a sample for shade or texture – or in many cases to even be allowed to look at a sample bottle – there’s no reason to be there (stock image)
Generally, the more luxurious and privileged the environment, the more insulated it appears from hardship. But in this crisis it’s different. Our local stomping grounds are familiar, full of life and feel relatively safe. While stepping into the shiny, vast temples of luxury and hospitality in the West End, which have been completely abandoned for months, everything seems alien and even potentially dangerous. I fear it’s going to take more than the relaxation of a two-metre rule to get us flooding back.
The test no woman can afford to delay
At the start of my 20s, one of my first smear tests came back showing abnormal cervical cells. To this day I remember the terror of attending the Marie Stopes clinic in Soho and being treated as if my sexually irresponsible behaviour had brought this on.
Which at that stage in my life was so far from the truth it would have been funny if it weren’t terrifying.
After a small operation to remove a tiny bit of my cervix, I have been fine ever since but I’ve always made sure that I am regularly tested, even going private during the years when the service wasn’t standard on the NHS.
While it’s OK to accept much of our life is on hold, my early scare is proof that the smear test is one thing every woman must keep at the top of the action list (stock photo)
Now vital cervical screening is available to all, but in the past two months alone 600,000 women have missed their regular test through a mixture of fear of going to a hospital, not wanting to waste NHS time and, since it’s not a very pleasant procedure, no doubt thinking they could take the opportunity to put it off till this is all over.
While it’s OK to accept much of our life is on hold, my early scare is proof that the smear test is one thing every woman must keep at the top of the action list.
A cycling revolution stopped in its tracks
If the Government is so keen to get us on our bikes, they might make it easier to find places to park them. The many metal railings in our cities are the ideal spots to lock up a bike, but all proclaim dire consequences for anyone who dares attempt it.
In wartime, many iron railings were requisitioned and turned into munitions. In our current battle they could once again be put to the good of the nation. Our country – and our cycles – needs them.
If the Government is so keen to get us on our bikes, they might make it easier to find places to park them
Give Bob’s brilliance the love it deserves
In this Spotify age, we’ve become used to cherry-picking the tracks we listen to. This must be heartbreaking for the musicians who have carefully compiled an album in the exact order they intend it heard – to them it must be like someone reading the chapters of a book in the wrong order.
New masterpieces from Neil Young and Bob Dylan released last week entirely repay listening from start to finish, like in the old days. They will remind you that nobody dips into Beethoven’s 5th from the middle.
Lockdown trackies? No one told Kate!
Spotted out and about dressed in head-to-toe black, Balmain jacket and Birkin bag, Kate Moss showed that she, for one, is keeping up appearances. No blobbing around in a pair of trackies for her. Message received, loud and clear.
I’ll never bow down to this new greeting
When Prince Charles and Camilla met President Macron it was all namastes – bowing and prayer hands. I absolutely get the point, but I can’t imagine reaching the stage where I wouldn’t feel painfully self-conscious greeting someone that way.