How to be ...

A modern-day diva

Appointments to be shot for the cover of a British fashion magazine, like your sexuality, should be fluid. A person can't be expected to just come outside and get in a people carrier bound for the studio on an editor's whim - there are Tweets to be sent, tattoo designs to be sketched out in eyeliner on one's elastic thigh. You are an artist of the body. A sorcerer of glamour. Like a female Paul Daniels. Like Debbie McGee. It's preposterous to assume that you will simply arrive, and get your hair done, and pose for Rankin, and eat the pastries, like an animal. Your manager should have explained the circus metaphor to them. The horses look like they're prancing around the big top in time to the music of the violinists, but, BUT, it's not the horses that are dancing to the speed of violinists, it's the violinists playing to the speed of the horses. It's fairly deep, but it should clear one or two things up. Namely, you are the horses, and they will all fiddle for you.

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