The latest lifestyle, fashion and travel trends
The year 2020. Such a crisp, clean slate.
It’s the zeros. It’s the numerical repetition. It’s the widely held narrative that a new decade should mean a new you. And it will: right after you’ve finished the brandy snaps. Like George Benson, my hindsight is 20/ 20 but my mindset is 1967. Winter can go screw itself: I want another summer of love, and I want it now.
But first, exercise. Specifically, exercise for people who hate exercise. I’d rather suffer intensely for a short time than suffer mildly for an interminable one. Which is why I hate the gym. The only gym I’ve ever been able to stomach is The Clock, so-called because its HIIT sessions only take 15 minutes, and then you’re done, and can go off and eat burgers. Without fries or a bun, though: you have to follow a strict high-fat (for those who can live without alcohol — high fat diets can’t tolerate any sugar) or low-fat diet (me). The low fat diet is tough — no cheese! — but it works. The first time I went, the owner handed me a revolting yellow glob of fat, heavy as a newborn, and promised me I’d lose the same amount within 12 days. I actually did. People told me I looked well ’n’ stuff, like some poster girl for exercise. I felt like Adele probably feels, but is too clever to talk about. My jeans were loose, and all the other clichés. Blah blah blah.
There are few things more tedious than hearing about other people’s exercise regimes. Brits spent £3.4 billion on private health and fitness clubs last year, with 6.1 million of us having memberships, according to new research by Mintel. Which would explain the stone cold fact that you will be ambushed by a fitness bore this month, just as you’re heading to the bar. There is nothing wrong with wanting to stride into 2020 new and improved. But don’t take it to extremes. Whatever diet and exercise regime you choose, make it sustainable. And I don’t mean in an ecological way. I mean in a way that won’t leave you grumpy, miserable and feeling like a loser for setting the bar so high that you’re doomed to fail.
Jan-do attitudes
On the one hand, you’ve got Stormzy forgetting to put on his trainers and doing a BBC Breakfast News interview in his slippers. On the other, you’ve got those weird people in tailored suits, trying to look dynamic (every office has one). And in between, you’ve got the Dry Januarys, the Veganuarys, the Divorceanuarys, the Nicoretters and the people living entirely off celery who’ll lamp you if you look at them the wrong way (hunger is an intolerant mistress). If you haven’t yet adopted a methodology, remember there is no ‘right’ way to do January: you just have to get through it, one very long day at a time.
Duch courage
‘It is impossible not to think that he has been influenced by his wife… and was being integrated into more Californian ways,’ one op ed sniffed, weighing in on #Megxit. Lol. It’s always women who have ‘ways’: funny ways, silly ways, or in Meghan’s case, Californian ways. It’s these dismissive, petty attempts to belittle the Duchess of Sussex that have shaped her decision to quit Britain. What, exactly, are Californian ways anyway? If they mean refusing to tolerate bullying and prejudice, then bring them on. Like a staunch Brexiteer, Meghan is taking back control. In this, maybe she’s more British than her critics think. Or maybe she’s just Meghan: a woman, a human, and an agent of change.
