article-2735851-20D771BC00000578-860_634x371Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii Jean Dujardin and George Clooney.

Spinny out.




Nostalgia & the Nineties: Why I want to be Jennifer Lopez, in Out of Sight.

I’ll say it straight up. Jennifer Lopez is as sexy as all hell in this movie. Karen Sisco

She’s sexy in a way that even if I gathered every ounce of sexy I could muster and borrowed some of yours, her left ear lobe would always be sexier than the whole of me. Us. Whatever.

I can only muse upon what it must be like to be attached to the body that US Marshall Karen Sisco inhabits.

Sisco is not just sassy-ass sexy, she’s funny, strong and clever. Blended together, you have the perfect woman smoothie. I want to be that smoothie.

This is a woman who is brave enough to wear a brown knitted cardy and make it look less Comic-con, more Body-con. The woman whose dad thinks is cool to give her a hand-gun for her birthday whilst reprimanding her for seeing a scumbag married cop. She’s assured, sentimental and appears to never need any sleep. She’s the Nineties before it all went a bit rubbish.

Out Of Sight was released before Lopez became the music phenomenon that is J-Lo. She’d knocked it out of the park as the tragic Latina singer, in the biopic Selena, and this was her mainstream breakout. It was not only a critical success for Lopez, but also her co-star George Clooney and director Steven Soderberg. The movie quickly paved the way for Soderberg and Clooney’s stellar movie careers but sadly, not for Jennifer, who decided instead to r ‘n’ b her love of “the block” and put Ben Affleck in her music videos. Oh dear god, did that really happen? Yes it did.

But before we shed a tear for an episode of Inside The Actors Studio that will never air, let’s take a moment to appreciate the genius of Karen Sisco.

First up, and key to her steely magnetism, is Clooney. In 1998, he was still best known as Dr Doug Ross from the telly. Shove him in a boot with Lopez, add a smattering of guns, grease and bath-time and you had instant movie gold.

Fast forward 16 years and what I love is that Sisco now has this wonderful ability to conjure up the younger, more obnoxious (and perkier) version of myself.

When I watch her back-chat Clooney’s bank robber Foley, I’m transported to the prime of my life, where that kind of chutzpah was a turn-on, and worked even better when I was smoking a cigarillo. (A crass admission written down but frankly, a welcome respite from the been-there-done-that middle-aged grump costume that I inhabit most of the time now).

Sisco’s always ready with a snappy retort, a lightening reflex and superior shade of plum-red lipstick. There’s enough vulnerability to make her likeable but because it’s mashed up with her patent leather inner lioness, she gets a pass. She knows the power she wields.

out-of-sightI liked that power. I miss that power, so forgive me this flight of fancy. I am, it appears, in the midst of a full-blown mid-life crisis.

But here’s where the human spirit is so darned wonderful. I’m not ready to give up just yet and I have Karen Sisco to thank for that. Jennifer‘s Sisco shows me that I can still access that sexy, dynamic woman, even if it’s just for a few fleeting seconds, and even if it’s just in my head and actually, even if it’s not real at all. I’ll take the illusion and the whisper of a memory. (Otherwise what the hell do I have to look forward to? Hot flushes, gout and another evening trying to understand the nuance of Tinder?)

When I first saw this movie I remember thinking, “Yeah Sisco, you think you’re all that and then some but here I am, in my All-Saints combats and vest top, with my faux-Rachel hair-do and Touch Eclat-covered eye-bags. I’m ready to give you a run for your money, so bring it sister.” (Re-reading that sentence I want to simultaneously hug and slap the me of ’98). Cocky as I was, I filed Sisco away in the back of my mind, somehow foreshadowing the knowledge that having this honeyed Nineties specimen immortalized on film, while I withered like a crumpled sock, would be useful somewhere down the line.

Well, we are now well and truly down the line.

And we all need hope. Karen Sisco is mine.

Spinny out.

It’s really good to have a talent.

selfieJust sayin’.

Spinny out.

What’s the worst thing about moving house, I hear you ask?

hobbit feetNot being able to find any wax strips to get rid of my big toe hair.

You did ask.

Spinny out.

What’s your spin?

Today’s question: Are you friends with any of your ex’s?

I just don’t see how it works. (Or maybe I picked guys who were such losers there’d be no point in having them as friends?).

As far as I can tell, it benefits no-one.

You can’t move on and they continue to irritate you.

Every time I looked at my most recent ex, or had any communication with him via text or email, all I felt was anger, sadness and resentment, at the way he let me down.

So I cut him off.

But what about you?

Spinny out

The Great Matchby!

Great-Gatsby-movie-Nick-Carraways-cottage-18Baz Luhrmann has just revealed that he and his wife of 17 years, Catherine Martin, sleep separately all week, spending a night together in a hotel at the weekends.

Hmmm, I also sleep alone and have the occassional hotel tryst.

Maybe I HAVE been married all these years after all? 

Spinny out.

Lauren Bacall: One Classy Broad.

lauren bacall

I was blown away by this photograph of Lauren Bacall, taken when she was 88, one year before her death last week.

It’s the most honest portrait of ageing I’ve ever seen from a Hollywood star, and also a little uncomfortable.

Lauren Bacall was one of the most beautiful women of her generation,and yet here she is, facing her advancing years head on.

She’s steadfast, brave, and unflinching.

Much like the Hobbits in the Lord of the Ring: Return of the King, when the Orcs march on Minas Tirith (yes, I’m comparing age to an Orc but bear with me on this), age advances relentlessly.

Nothing you can do – not even Botox – will stop your face from falling apart over time, because (unlike the Orcs), age always wins.

But I think Lauren Bacall is the winner this time around.

Look at that face. Really look. There’s fire in those eyes and a life writ large.

Yes, her old lady face terrifies me but I also love it. I want that face, and I want that confidence.

She’s a woman who knows her power, and yet there’s a resignation too. A tiny recognition of where her amazing life journey has lead her. It’s a fighting stare but one that emanates inner peace.

So RIP Ma’am, and the next time I need to find the strength within to not despise my face for casually shedding its youthful glow, I’ll whistle. I may not be able to come to terms with getting older but I sure know how to whistle.

Spinny out