It's body crazy out there

It's been a bit of a week for bodies. All over town, they've been the focus of great scrutiny. At last week's Selfridges party, held to mark the opening of the store's month-long Body Craze event, I came face to face with a naked woman who had exactly the same breasts as mine - only she found hers sufficiently fabulous to warrant standing in a glass case in front of thousands of people. I wonder how much she got an hour.

Then, among all the fetishists, acrobats and performance artists daubed in body paint, who should walk down the escalator but Kylie Minogue, surrounded by a bevy of models. The Petra Pan of pop was promoting her Love Kylie range of underwear, which Selfridges stocks exclusively.

But while the models disrobed to their underwear, Kylie remained uncharacteristically modest in a black wet-look vest dress.

Could Olivier Martinez have a "no body-baring" clause in their relationship contract, or was the Botox doctor overbooked?

The next night, my whirlwind social life took me round the corner to Old Bond Street and a party for the Alexander McQueen store, which opened a month ago (there are a lot of parties now the war is over - presumably we can all be happy again now little Ali is getting his skin grafts). McQueen was there, all svelte and flat of tummy after his lipo. He was accompanied by Meg Mathews and her awesome augmented breasts.

Then there was David Furnish, wearing that air of permanent surprise which Elton seems to find attractive, but always makes me want to ask him if he's lost.

Not for the first time, it struck me how very few of the celebrity guests looked as nature had intended. The surgically enhanced race is growing apace.

I could tell you that cream is the new black - Mathews and McQueen both looked dapper in it - or that model Aimee Mullins singlehandedly made jumpsuits look cool again, but what's the point? You are probably saving for a tummy tuck, and won't be buying any clothes until that Harley Street appointment has been booked.

As for the body craziness sweeping London, I'm not sure I approve. Clothes should maketh the man, not collagen. I hope I feel the same when I'm 40, but if I'm ever swayed I shall simply glance at the calcified plastic chests/ lumpy plastic lips of the world's celebs and be assuaged. Better to have a body that looks lived-in than worked-on.

Create a FREE account to continue reading

eros

Registration is a free and easy way to support our journalism.

Join our community where you can: comment on stories; sign up to newsletters; enter competitions and access content on our app.

Your email address

Must be at least 6 characters, include an upper and lower case character and a number

You must be at least 18 years old to create an account

* Required fields

Already have an account? SIGN IN

By clicking Create Account you confirm that your data has been entered correctly and you have read and agree to our Terms of use , Cookie policy and Privacy policy .

This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged in