Merseyside, 1997, in my only friend of legal driving age’s car. There was only
one thing on that stereo, but no way was it that indie band Oasis. What sort
of losers do you think we were? No, me and Liz wouldn’t drive around the
village looking for Paul from Upper Sixth to anything but the Spice Girls.
But, while 16-year-old me loved Geri, and wanted to look like Baby (oh, that
hair), I didn’t have much time for Posh. All that pouting and pencil skirt
wearing. I just didn’t get her.
Suddenly, though, that’s changed. I don’t know if it’s me, or her – perhaps
we’ve just both grown up, Vic? – but in the last six months, something about
VB really… works.
That topless screensaver of Becks on a custom-made gold iPhone (right)?
Before, I might have thought it was tacky. Now? It’s hilarious. If someone
gave you a phone made of actual gold, you’d probably show it off. And if
your husband was David Beckham, you’d definitely run round the house taking
pictures on it of him naked.
Then there was her tweeting: “The airport is my runway,” before swanning past
Gate 7 in shorts and Louboutin peep-toes. How did I not see how flat-out
funny that was before?
And, speaking of Twitter… Alright, so her over-use of exclamation marks does
test the boundaries of punctuation, but bless Vic, she is sweet.
Congratulating Geri on her new bikini launch, little hellos to Eva and Demi.
Best of all, though, are the “I’m so proud of David” tweets.
It’s no coincidence that at the same time I’m feeling this way about Posh, I’m
falling out of love with Cheryl. There is clearly only room in my heart for
one brunette girl band member turned solo star who married a footballer.
And while Posh is embracing the girl mates, the silliness and the being a
normal person things that were once Cheryl’s forte, the Cole has gone the
other way. That stilted chat with Alan Carr on Chatty Man was crying out for
some daft revelations about the time she had too many mojitos and vommed in
Nicola’s handbag. Did we get it? No. You need to give us something, Cheryl.
Meanwhile, in VB’s camp – pre-pregnancy, obvs – Posh was having 48-hour
champagne benders and telling us that yeah, she does “get p****d and have
hangovers.” If I got an invite to Vic’s, I’d be on that plane to LA so fast,
I might not even have time to stop and pick up some gin at Duty Free. Not to
worry though – Vic would clearly have some Tanqueray in.
But, you know what really swings it for Team VB? It’s those lovely clothes
she’s designing, and the effect success has had on her. Now that she knows
who she is – Victoria Beckham, proper fashion designer – and she doesn’t
have to rely on Dane Bowers to tell her, she’s chilled out. She doesn’t do
daft poses, or look like she’s desperately clinging to David. In fact, David
can cling to her – she’s the one with the amazing career who might not be
free for date night cos Kate Middleton’s on the phone begging for a frock.
Of course, I’d like to be Posh. But I’d settle for being her mate. And as her
middle name is Caroline (no way a coincidence), and we both like champagne
(now it’s getting spooky), I think it’ll work out well. I’ll leave it in her
hands. And keep refreshing my Twitter.
1997: The pouty one with the slick bob. She’s no Geri.
2000: With Dane Bowers. But “This tune’s gonna punish you,” was a
brilliant lyric.
2004: We wanted to hug her when the Rebecca Loos allegations emerged.
2004: But her staged ‘stand by my man in a ski resort’ pap photos left
us cold.
2008: Her first fashion collection dVb got amazing reviews. Go Posh!
2011: Looking amazing. And the pregnancy wardrobe is to come.
Hyperventilates.
PHOTOGRAPHY: REX FEATURES, WIREIMAGE, SOLARPIX, PACIFIC COAST NEWS, XPOSURE
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