REVIEW: Bridesmaids

Today I found out I've landed some much-needed employment, and to celebrate I took myself out to see the movie of the moment, Bridesmaids. Now and again, a film comes along that you spend more time reading about than watching. Whatever I had built up Bridesmaids to be in my head, it was totally different. Quirky, yes; full of charismatic women, yes. But it wasn't fully about the hellish journey from dress fitting to Big Day; it was a direct split between wedding disasters and the spiralling life of lonely protagonist Annie (writer Kristen Wiig.) Rather than giving a human edge to the more heavily-advertised half of the plot, this strand just made me wonder if Wiig had found opportunities for bridesmaid antics a bit thin on the ground.

Melissa McCarthy, Ellie Kemper, Rose Byrne, Wendi McLendon-Covey, Maya Rudolph, Kristen Wiig

Don't get me wrong, this film is definitely worth a look. A few scenes are indeed laugh-out-loud, most are just amusingly surreal. Annie, already on a relationship and career low, is thrown when her oldest friend Lillian (Maya Rudolph) gets engaged, but leaps at the chance to be her maid of honour. The most amusing obstacle comes in the form of Helen (Rose Byrne), Lillian's glossier and richer 'new' best friend, and the two women's sneaky battle for best BFF is nothing short of hilarious. Byrne is deliciously despicable, and Wiig charmingly neurotic. For me, Annie's predictably schmaltzy romance with cop Nathan (played by the IT Crowd's Chris O'Dowd) only detracted from the insane brilliance of the all-female moments.

The only part that lived up to the trailer and the reviews, though, was Melissa McCarthy's performance as boisterous sister of the groom Megan - one of the best rom-com characters I've seen in a long time. And this is a rom-com. While critics claim it rivals dick-flicks such as The Hangover - and it does break ground in terms of vomit, swearing and realistic-looking women - the central romance, and Annie's anxiety about losing her friend, still keep it in traditional wedding-comedy territory.

In fact, I would've liked to see less of Annie's sad singledom (except for the painfully spot-on guy stringing her along at the beginning of the film) and more of Annie and Lillian's relationship. There was more than enough sentiment to be wrung from the erosion of the best friend bond, and I could take or leave the cop romance.

Still, there are laughs a-plenty, if not, as journos such as Zoe Williams have implied, gallons more wit or feminist pizazz than most decent romantic comedies. There is one particularly brilliant scene on a plane to Vegas, supporting bridesmaids Becca and Rita keep it light and funny, as do colourful characters like Annie's mum - who goes to AA meetings just for fun - and surreal roomates Brynn and Gil (Rebel Wilson & our own Matt Lucas.)

Wiig's Saturday Night Live past is evident in the ballsy screenplay; the film opens with the same song as ex-SNL colleague Tina Fey's teen masterpiece Mean Girls, and clearly aspired to a similar level of bizarre to her sitcom 30 Rock. Sadly, I just didn't feel it lived up to Fey's fast-paced, wordy scripts, instead resorting to vomit, bad sex and in-flight drugs to fuel the comedy.

I can't tell if the amount of hype ruined it, and had I just walked into screen 8 on a Thursday afternoon whim I would have been raving about it, but I'm not sure Bridesmaids is the innovative and stunning comedy the press has built it up to be. There are lovable characters and memorable moments, and Wiig has fantastic comic timing, but I don't know if I'd buy the DVD.

C is for Controversy

So, apparently I caused a bit of a rumpus in Glamour HQ this morning.

I casually tweeted Glamour magazine's editor, Jo Elvin (@jo_elvin) some thoughts on their June Women of the Year issue; namely that I had been a bit unimpressed by Lily Allen opening the section with a somewhat self-pitying attitude. As we all know, Lily's tired of the limelight and wants to retreat into 'oblivion' and have lots of babies. So far, so good - more power to her. But in the context of a section filled with witty, successful celebs like Ruth Jones, Zoe Saldana and Lea Michele, all at the top of their game, her moany interview just went down like a lead balloon with me. Anyway, Jo wrote a blog post on their website defending Lily from those criticizing her life choices. I can see how my comment suggested it, but I don't actually have a problem with Lily's bid for domesticity. I do however, have a problem with her own 'issues' with fame, stardom and a few grand in the bank - issues she feels compelled to press on us every chance she gets.

I like Lily; in a sea of PR-savvy schmaltz, she really is refreshingly honest. But when presented with an award voted for by thousands of readers, I'm sorry, you just suck it up and say thank you. Her response didn't seem to say that at all. Instead she criticized the public ('people have stopped buying music'), the media (particularly 'the image we're sold of beauty' - by magazines like Glamour, Lil?) and basically everyone who's got her to where she is today. Because she doesn't seem to like where she is, even if that is at the top of the charts, the awards shortlists and the style pages.

I just felt disappointed that someone could be offered a lovely photo shoot, an interview with the editor-in-chief, and ANOTHER award, and still feel compelled to re-iterate their boredom and disillusionment with their situation. It's not exactly the worst of the worst, after all. And yes, Lily, we get that you're all loved up right now, but I really didn't need to hear you witter on about getting your man's dinner on the table in time for him getting home after football. I, personally, don't think that's very inspirational (or even relevant) in a woman's magazine, in a section about great female celebs. I do agree with Jo Elvin that a woman's right to choose between dizzy heights or washing his whites is important and should be respected, but I just don't think Lily proved herself a great choice by being so negative and melodramatic about her own stardom.

Set the Mood

Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life ~Berthold Auerbach

After my iPod recently passed away (an unfortunate incident with a sports-cap bottle of mineral water in my bag) I was iPodless for about a week. After plenty of iMourning and just a little iRage, I decided I couldn't live without my choons and purchased a new model nano - I was replacing one of those little square flat ones, my fourth mp3 player - and set about putting the music back in my life.

The thing about music is, if I'm having a bad day, a little iPod fix can turn it all around. I never realise how much I use this little device for inspiration, motivation, therapy and escape until I am without one for a while. I realised it more than ever as my camera and phone were also taken out by the mini-flood, and I missed my mobile soundtrack the most. I am a total playlist freak and am always making those 'On the Go' ones on the way to things. Today I made a workout one as I resolved to start using my work gym; I have chillout lists and glamming up lists and tidying lists galore. Many would just put their iPod on shuffle, but I feel the few minutes it takes to put together a playlist mean you have exactly the right ambience to promote energy, efficiency, happiness or relaxation. A misplaced track can be jarring, jolting you out of whatever state you have carefully lured yourself into. A playlist means old and new music and genres of every kind all coming together with only their attitude to connect them.

Here are some excerpts from the playlists that rock my world - I've had to use the third more times than I care to mention...


Workout (Think pop remixes, angry pop/rock & club collaborations)
Starry Eyed - Ellie Goulding
My Favourite Game - The Cardigans
Pump It - Black Eyed Peas
Sex on Fire - Kings of Leon
When Love Takes Over - David Guetta ft. Kelly Rowland
Hounds of Love - Kate Bush
Telephone - Lady Gaga
The Creeps - The Freaks
Untouched - The Veronicas
In Your Eyes - Kylie Minogue


House Party (Blasts from the past, seductive riffs, a general sense of mayhem)
Stripper - Sohodolls
Daft Punk is Playing at My House - LCD Soundsystem
Butterfly - Crazytown
No, No, No - Destiny's Child
Love Sex Magic - Justin Timberlake/Ciara
Let me Think About It - Fedde Le Grande
Higher Ground - Red Hot Chilli Peppers
Why Don't You - Gramophonedzie
Run This Town - Jay Z ft. Rihanna
Ooh La La - Goldfrapp


Getting Mad/Even (Anti-man rage - I generally sing along loudly and clean things)
Never Again - Kelly Clarkson
You Oughta Know - Alanis Morrissette
Fly Away - Lenny Kravitz
Cry Me a River - Justin Timberlake
Harder to Breathe - Maroon 5
If I Were a Boy - Beyonce
It's My Life - Bon Jovi
Paint it Black - Rolling Stone
Fighter - Christina Aguilera
Speechless - Lady Gaga


So whether you're thinking 'I'm superwoman', 'Let's party', or simply 'Screw you', there's a playlist for every occasion. Get creative!

Down the Rabbit Hole

I've followed the hype for Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland as much as anyone else, but I wasn't entirely sure it would be my cup of tea. I have a bit of an issue with the fantasy genre; I kept way out of Lord of the Rings, Beowulf and Pan's Labyrinth, and the Harry Potter films have been a constant source of disappointment. I don't believe the plots, I don't get absorbed in the fantasy worlds, and my mind just wanders. If there's a book original involved, it's often ripped apart and cut down, with casting that clashes with my mind's interpretation. With CGI still in its pubescent years, a lot of the action sequences and setting choices just seem like a way to flex various technological muscles. All in all, they end up feeling less like a story and more like an epic film experiment.

Since seeing Avatar just before Christmas, I've opened my mind up to fantasy a little more. For once I just appreciated it for being something truly beautiful, and I let myself be absorbed (ironically, as this was the fantasy narrative other people slated the most.) So with Alice in Wonderland, I decided to ignore the Burton 'cult' factor, the slightly tired-sounding casting, the fact that I absolutely hated what he did to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - bring back Gene Wilder and the orange oompa loompas! - and give it a go. More specifically I decided to go on my own, in the spirit of falling down the rabbit hole, and to an unsociable screening time. It was essentially me, a massive screen and my imagination. I don't often take solitary cinema trips, but having done it to review things before, I knew it was the best way to avoid taking on other people's reactions or getting distracted at crucial moments.

Luckily, distraction wasn't a problem as Alice is totally gripping. It wasn't too wacky, it used the CGI and the surreal dimension to enhance certain things, but it didn't dominate the story. Having heard nothing but Johnny Depp this and Helena B-C that, I was delighted to hear Stephen Fry as a purring, whimsical Cheshire Cat and Alan Rickman as the pipe-smoking blue caterpillar. Factor in Babs Windsor as the Dormouse and Michael Sheen as the White Rabbit, and you've got an impressive range of character actors. But the celebrity casting didn't distract too much from the beautifully detailed characters - one of my favourite moments was when the heroine finds herself in the forest of Wonderland being berated by talking flowers, rabbits, mice, chubby twins and caterpillars for being the wrong Alice. It was so beautiful and striking after the bleached, genteel reality we had just come from, and that's when I started to believe that this was a journey I really wanted to go on.

Mia Wasikowska, looking remarkably like a young Kate Moss (but with 100% more personality), more than holds her own in the title role. I had prejudged her supermodel looks and waiflike stature, but Burton clearly knows what he is doing. She is odd and curious in a way I could totally relate to. I don't know if all girls feel a bit isolated and inclined to say socially unacceptable things, but I often do, and Alice's detached nature and 'mad' statements really worked for me. This Alice is out of place in a regulated and polite human world, then finds herself amongst creatures much madder than she. It made the transition from reality to Wonderland much more interesting. It made me want to go back to the original animated version, where I seem to remember Alice as being a lot more normal and confused by the wacky things she sees. This Alice fits right into the madness and goes with the flow, which I enjoyed. She is not picture perfect, but pale and interesting, with dark inquisitive eyes and a sort of physical resilience that makes her at home in the suit of armour she wears at the climax of the film.

Helena Bonham Carter is suitably posh, lisping and full of tantrums. I liked the animated additions to her character, but it was all as cliched as I'd suspected. Johnny Depp is featured much more than the Mad Hatter demands, and becomes an unnecessary hero of Wonderland (something in his contract?) but just about gets away with it by being believably barking and utterly charming. How much this has to do with his giant, graphically-enhanced green eyes, I don't know. The odd decision to have his accent flit from BBC English to gruff Scottish didn't really do it for me... perhaps another aspect of his insanity, perhaps a chance to fully showcase the skills section of his CV. I found it distracting, just as I found the White Queen's affected 'grace' - I like the imaginative nature of Burton's direction, I just don't like being able to see the mechanics and decisions behind a character.

I did think for the first time that Burton should have snapped up the Harry Potter films; the man knows how to make things odd, quirky and otherworldly without overly explaining or domesticating them. He got the balance between human and other so right in this film, while I found every installment of the HP films jarringly badly scripted and imagined at times. I think he would have stripped them down to the important parts and really brought the characters to life. But perhaps the concept was just too commercial for him. Here, they have taken a classic with enough distance to completely reinvent some parts, while keeping in the familiar ponderings that spring to mind when we think of Lewis Carroll: "Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

I enjoyed the script, I felt the story bounded along through the 'Drink Me' potions, the Red Queen's court and the Mad Hatter's tea party, and nothing felt too long-winded. I loved the little touches of Tweedledum and Tweedledees yoda-like speech, Alice's wound making her tougher and more warrior-like and the Tudor references in the Red Queen's palace. I think a little more humour and lightness could have improved the adventure, but Burton was understandably going for a crueller, darker and more violent Wonderland. The nonsense and riddle was done well and it didn't become a pantomime, Alice returning to her world genuinely jolted me, and I liked the way she was revisiting as a young woman, having thought the place a dream in childhood.

What I find hard in fantasy films is when the world they create is inconsistent, badly communicated or cliched. This Wonderland was solid - characters spoke of people and places as if we were all in on the facts, and this is the root of the story: everyone seems to be speaking a different language and it is Alice who is the oddity. I'm glad Burton didn't try and make Wonderland too easy for us to enter, it shouldn't be. It felt just right as a dash through foreign landscapes, nonsensical speeches and fascinating characters, with the sole aim of widening Alice's perspective so she doesn't settle for the ordinary in the real world. She is made to feel extraordinary in a good way, and goes back to her life with confidence, and this layer of grown-up narrative really gave the film an edge. Yes, I cringed a bit when Depp burst into his 'futterwhacken' dance at the end, and yes there was an over-long 'look what we can do' CGI chase by a Bandysnatch, but overall these indulgences were eclipsed by so many great performances. This is no mean feat, reinventing one of the most imagined and interpreted stories of all time. Google images for 'Alice in Wonderland' and you'll see how many illustrations and ideas have come out of this one book.

I do recommend you take a trip to Wonderland, but do it when you're feeling a bit odd, and if you're brave enough, go alone. I guarantee it will improve the experience.

Break the Rules

I'm quite strict with myself when it comes to style. I don't live and breathe fashion but I am a firm believer that your shape suits certain things, and you shouldn't deviate from the flattering, well-worn path you've followed since becoming that shape. Basically - if it ain't broke, don't fix it. My unbroken rules include lots of LBDs, short skirts with long sleeves, opaque black tights, wrap-dress necklines and sky-high heels. I am and always will be a curvy girl, which counts out frilly-detailed tops, waif-perfect volume and athletic playsuits. With curves comes the grave responsibility of not looking like a potato sack.

There has to be waist belts and block colours and no high necklines. As a bit of a shortie, hosiery and shoes must elongate legs, which leaves very little room for pattern or t-bars cutting across the ankles. If I dare to wear a very eighties-flashdance oversized T, every other aspect of the outfit has to scream slim. A flash of shoulder or collarbone, black leggings or skinny jeans, more heels. It's all about balance and proportion for the curvalicious, a logistical nightmare for some trends. I quietly admire most catwalk highlights before mentally putting them back on the rack. This Spring/Summer, massive tribal prints and baggy trousers (which look great on who, exactly?) cropped tops, dungarees, double denim and clogs will all be huge fat no-nos for girls like me. On the other hand, we can console ourselves with military jackets, trench coats and nude-toned shoes (structure, structure, leg-lengthening. Tick.)

This may sound a little style-nazi, but I just don't think shapely women look or feel comfortable in 'arty', experimental clothing. A size 12-14 in a classic DVF wrap dress is ravishing - wedged into futuristic shapes or microscopic hotpants, not so. I think it's great that we get to look to old-school Hollywood starlets for inspiration and can fill out corsets and get that coveted waist-to-hip ratio in voluptuous red carpet dresses. But I don't think 80% of what comes out of fashion week is meant for us. It's like any modern art; lots of us can appreciate the innovative nature of a stained bed or signed urinal, but that doesn't mean we want it in pride of place in our living room.

This year, however, I've realized I'm only inches away from becoming the fashion Grinch when it comes to new trends. So I'm setting myself the challenge to spend this Spring trying the bits that my mind immediately stamped a 'NO' on when I was flicking through the trend reports.

Cute, but will it work on real women?

White tights
Is it Alice in Wonderland fever or just us longing to get back to our party-dress thrill? When I was about six I had white opaque tights with a sparkly Little Mermaid illustration near the ankle that I absolutely adored. Can the thick white tight be resurrected in my 23rd year? Asos magazine seems to think so. I'll have a browse for a suitable pair in the next couple of weeks and get back to you on whether it's nostalgia-chic or just lamb-dressed-as-foetus horror.

Oh, to be Blake-shaped

Playsuits
Oh so flirty and cute on tall athletic chicks, I have long admired and feared the playsuit. Arrogance aside, I think I have the legs for it, but it may have to be a slinky, belted design for me to get away with the look. Might also be time to haul out the fake tan, my legs have had little or no exposure this winter.

The ultimate 'don't'?

Socks and sandals
Whether it reminds you of your grandad or your woodwork teacher, the S'n'S has been a long-running fashion joke. But lo, this month both Glamour and Cosmo are filled with leggy models rocking the (delicate) ankle sock with (epically high) sandal trend. The best real world way to work this would probably be a sheer or lacy black ankle sock with vertigo-inducing black heels, but I kind of love the way Glamour did brights with clashing brights. Either way, this is the one I feel will be the hardest to pull off in urban Surrey.

Hello, boys

Dare to bare
I've always admired a curvy woman who's content to put it all out there and say 'yes - I am a goddess' with everything she wears. In classic terms, this is always Marilyn; a modern day equivalent might be Kelly Brook. When you're ample of bosom and generous of hip, it can be so comfortable to hide under long sleeves, wrap necklines and pencil skirts. But the Marilyn effect of just wearing it, no matter how sheer, strappy or cleavage-enhancing is really quite something. I need the right event for this one (and God knows, the right dress) but I'm determined to do it.

Loud and proud

Tribal
Loud prints and baggy clothing are about as far from my idea of style heaven as you can possibly get. The enviable figures on asos.com are sporting baggy pantaloons, psychadelic dresses and jumpsuits and chunky jewellery. While all of this extra volume may compliment a slim wrist or legs up to one's armpits, how do us mediocre 5-something footers wear it? I'm seriously asking! Fashion bloggers' thoughts welcome.


So I'll get back to you when all boxes are ticked (I've set myself months rather than weeks to try these out... I don't have the budget for weekly fashion experiments right now.) I recommend you set yourself a similar style challenge and step outside your trusty shape-flattering box this season. There are few starting points for someone exceeding a size zero - even Mark Fast's generous casting of size 12s on his runway was undermined by his dressing them in shapeless, badly-fitting knitted dresses that I personally wouldn't touch with a barge pole. But it's the thought that counts.

It's a Girl Thing

You may have caught the latest chunk of the Katie'n'Peter saga on GMTV this morning. The TV equivalent of coke and jelly beans for breakfast responsibly set up (for news purposes, obviously) the warring exes for some fresh feuding. Having had Katie on the sofa earlier this week, it was Andre's turn - desperate, bursting to promote his awful Valentines album - to weigh in about his former wife's behaviour. Luckily the former Celebrity Mum of the Year (who was she up against, Courtney Love and Britney Spears?) handed the researchers a story on a silver platter by posting a gharish picture of her and Andre's two-year-old daughter, Princess, in full make-up and fake lashes on Facebook.

The offending photo

Now, even before this picture was leaked, I have long had my suspicions about that kid. With two naturally dark-haired parents, Cypriot heritage and an appearance-obsessed mother, it wouldn't surprise me if that Barbie blonde hair was dyed. Princess and Junior (don't even get me started on the names) both appear to have their lashes curled and possibly coated with mascara in those endless OK! pictures, and they just don't look like happy, normal kids to me. In this picture, the gharish fake lashes - Urgh! Using lash glue on your child! - and pink lips stand out starkly against her little baby teeth and big blue eyes.

Andre broadly stated that he found the fake-lashes picture 'disgusting', but it sparked some debate over whether girls will be girls, trying on make-up and mum's shoes. The trouble is, this girl is two. At two, girls just aren't girly yet - me and my sisters were definitely in dungarees with short hair, probably some pink but not predominantly, at that age. Toddler interests usually revolve around their plastic cup of squash, the walls and floor, mud, farm visits and the odd tantrum. Girliness, that minefield of pink and sparkle, comes later. That's what troubled me about the Andre kids - their gender seems so enforced. Princess is pink, chiffon, big skirts, curled hair, make up (notably not smudged on by a child, but expertly blended by adult hands) sparkly shoes, even rocking a hot-pink buggy as a baby. Junior is surfer shorts, khaki, white trainers, Logo T-shirts and gelled-up hair on occasion. Because why worry about whether four is too young to break out the Brylcreem when your kid can look like David Beckham? It's the parenting equivalent of tiny jackets and shoes on a dog. Bizarre, and unsettling.

I have a couple of times felt compelled to blog about the Pink Stinks campaign, but have always found myself slightly on the fence. I don't think it is necessarily a terrible thing that small girls gravitate to pink, it is a larger WAG/popstar image that is worrying when imitated. When girls think only about who they want to grow up to marry or what reality TV show they want to go on, that's what makes me sad. Pink Stinks is a slightly neurotic-mum manifestation of today's concerns about girls being flooded with pink, playboy-logoed, princessy clothes and toys. It seeks to redress the balance by promoting cool role models like female Nobel Prize winners and Arctic explorers (good) and bombarding toy stores with angry letters about their stock (hmm).

I know several people who feel strongly that nothing is that black and white (or pink, for that matter) and that girls with strong female examples in their life will turn out great with or without a Barbie obsession. I wasn't half as obsessed with glam, freakishly-proportioned Barbie as either of my sisters, but that hasn't made me any more of a science brain or adventuress. I'm still pretty damn girly, and I swapped ballet for gym and refused to wear skirts for several years. So maybe it's a case of phases - little girls discovering the excitement of sparkly nail varnish, princessy costume and playing mummy. But I don't think opening their eyes to the range of career options and hobbies available to them can ever be a bad thing; it's so tempting to assume that girls like ballet and singing, and boys like football and computer games.

Incidentally, I don't think we'll be seeing any websites devoted to showing boys the perks of wearing pink and taking dance classes. Surely the best you can do is offer a range of fun activities and let both genders mix with each other as much as possible? Take heed, anti-pink mummies: beware becoming just as controlling as those youth-hungry Katie types who project their idea of glamour onto their small child. On Katie's TV show she is filmed proudly showing off her toddler's makeover, saying 'Do you like it?' With no prompting whatsoever, Princess responds, 'I look like a mini you!' Not exactly a rave review.

The whole package?

After the now-standard year of top secret X Factor grooming and recording, Alexandra Burke was unleashed on the world last autumn in a glossy, choreographed whirlwind of slick R'n'B. Record execs probably hoped that in her ten month absence we'd forgotten the tear-stained, overwhelmed girl who appeared on the audition shows, but to me it seems a massive image overhaul. You could see the dollar signs in Simon Cowell's eyes as the formerly au natrel, make-up free, demurely dressed auditionee donned a sequinned minidress and scraped back ponytail to perform Toxic in the live rounds; while former winner Leona Lewis refused to play the plastic popstar game, this was a girl to be moulded and shaped from Islington clay into a world-class diva. 

She had a suitably Whitney-esque tone, luminous dark skin, and the confident, girl-next-door charm that is every PR's dream. Unlike shy Leona, with her dull vegetarian views and family values, Alex's PR mission is clear - be as loud, proud, single and fierce as you can. Her Twitter page is all interviews, gigs and 'let's partay!' optimism, communicated in a baffling flurry of exclamation marks and OMGs. Modest Management, who also represent Leona Lewis, couldn't have found a better money-spinner if they'd designed her themselves and grown her in a pod. Still, it's all a little transparent: the demographics (teens, gay men, Beyonce fans) the look (wet-look, slicked-back, high-heeled, fierce) the press persona (giggling, extrovert homegirl). Still, I'm not really being fair to Miss Burke; I enjoy her music and her performances, particularly the appearance with JLS on last year's X Factor - I just resent the image machine it takes for a decent singer to make it into the charts at the moment. 

However decent, Alex's talent isn't quite remarkable enough to give her leverage with her record label. If Leona wants to carry on wearing ethereal Vivienne Westwood frocks, she will. If she wants to stand still on a platform, letting her vocals do all the work, she can. If she wants to stay a curvilicious size 12, she damn well will, because everyone will still pause a moment to hear that voice - however tawdry the songs (excepting her cover of Run and break-out hit Bleeding Love). That girl can do things with her limitless, caramel voice that make the very laziest pop composition ipod-worthy. She is even better live, with a poise and control that makes subsequent X Factor winners look like redcoats. 

It drives some people mad that Leona has 'failed' on the PR front; audiences invariably tune out when she speaks, and who didn't cringe at the simpering  'I don't want to pick a favourite' speech when she returned to the show that made her? No one's that nice, surely. But I'm secretly rooting for team Lewis. For every time she makes her record bosses sigh in exasperation, she gains a little more power. People keep buying her albums and booking her appearances whether she's wearing Herve Leger or Topshop, whether she's bubbly or bland, and whether she's outrageous or innocuous... and that really says something in our image-obsessed music industry.