Wow! What a dress!

At last, a Royal wedding dress we can all love, and that will surely go down in history as one of the most beautiful gowns of all time. 

That lace work, the fit of the silk  - and no creases, no ruffles, just stunning embroidery and pure class. And with a modest yet low cut neck-line, with no gems to detract from its prettiness.

Grace Kelly would have been proud to wear it - and you can't be more complimentary than that.

And like any bride, the thing that makes her look most stunning is that smile. Kate couldn't look happier - or more beautiful. A true princess. 

 

Nice one Carole!

The mother of the bride looks fantastic, utterly faultless, in her Catherine Walker dove grey - not pale blue as was predicted (or is that just my TV?)  - perfectly cut dress and coat. And the hat is wonderful, too. The pressure for her to look just right must have been huge, and she has executed it with sophisticated perfection. I, for one, feel hugely relieved!

Prince William - who'd have thought he'd look so hot!

I've never thought Prince William was particularly handsome - too loose-jowled and big lipped for me. 

But hey, who wouldn't fancy him in that uniform?

It's all so fabulously An Officer and a Gentleman (only less white, more red) and Harry is, for once, totally upstaged. William looks so regal, so happy and controlled - like he's matured over night.  Good for him. Harry looks terrified! (sorry for the blurry pic - I will update later!)

My only concern is that William needs the mark from his hat to disappear from his forehead sharpish.

Hurrah for Britishness and pomp and ceremony! Only a total misery wouldn't be loving this. 

Royal Wedding: Sorry to bitch but...

Lordy, if there was ever a face that should be used in an anti-drugs campaign, it should be that of Tara Palmer-Tompkinson. What a shame. And walking in next to her sister, Santa, it is even more obvious how much damage she has done to herself. 

I love Chelsy Davy for looking so totally normal, glam yet ordinary at the same time, like she's going to a wedding in Watford, with her bleached hair and dark eyebrows and total non-toffiness. No wonder Harry's hooked on her - there's nothing more sexy than a brainy, successful career girl who looks like she's a devil in bed. (Not the way you would describe Kate...)

Always perfectly attired, Samantha Cameron arrives looking slender as a bean - oh, and as green as one too. Though classy and gorgeous. What an amazing necklace. I love the hair piece too. Who needs a hat?! (though don't you HAVE to wear a hat? Everyone else is!) And the orange pashmina couldn't be more on-trend. 

Shame the same can't be said for Fern Cotton! Eeek! She looks like someone's mum. A sartorial disaster. 

I'm sure it's even more fun watching from home than actually being there!

 

The Royal Wedding: I do hope Kate's as giddy as I am!

DID any British woman wake up this morning not wondering how Kate Middleton must be feeling?

To actually be a normal(ish) girl who really is marrying a prince - not just any prince, but THE prince - must be an incredible things. 

And I have to admit to feeling very emotional myself watching the guests arriving at the Abbey this morning, despite my usual cynicism for such events.

My thoughts so far:

1) I hope the Middleton ladies are having a giddy time this morning rather than it all being terribly tense. Champagne and giggles should be the order of the day. 

2) I do hope someone makes Kate have a piece of toast. Can you imagine if all that extreme weight loss lead to her fainting in the aisle?

3) The dress, the dress... Can you imagine being an ordinary person at the wedding trying to decide what to wear - when literally nobody cares about anyone except Kate. (And Victoria Beckham, of course. Who actually looks pretty fabulous in a funereal kind of way. And good Lord, how gorgeous does David look?) 

4) Sorry Huw, but this kind of event calls for a Dimbleby.

More thoughts later...

 

Real animal lovers won't mind their dogs being chipped

Greetings from not-so-sunny Gaucin, in Spain, where the rain is not dampening the villagers' enthusiasm for the bull chase happening today.

The quiet Andalucian village of white houses has been in a state of excitement all weekend, as today at 10.30am a bull will be driven through the streets, while 10,000 spectators watch and cheer and hoot horns  - watching to see if any of the men chasing it will be injured. 

At the end of the chase the bull will be taken away, killed and later eaten.

It's a tricky one for an animal lover like me.

It's undoubtedly cruel - but it's a very Spanish tradition, the village will have a carnival atmosphere and my kids would, I'm sure, remember the day for years.

We still haven't quite decided what we are going to do but my vote's with a trip to the coast instead.

On the other hand, I had no problems when deciding whether or not to chip my labradoodle, Rufus as a puppy.

Some people seem to be reacting in a really negative way to the new law making it compulsory to chip dogs.

But surely if your dog is well trained and under control the only time the chip will be used is if you lose the dog and the chip can help find it?

If unscrupulous breeders and aggressive dog owners don't like it, it's even more reason to do it, in my view.

My only question is, when are they going to make it compulsory to chip humans?

And would it be such a bad thing?

Eeek, wrinkles! But what to do?

Last night at a family gathering, my favourite great uncle told me I was starting to look old. 

I reminded him that I am not, in fact, 13 any more, but am actually now 40 so of course I was starting to look old.

'Still Annie,' he said. 'I'd have guessed. I don't mean it horribly, you look lovely. But you never seemed to get any older for so many years and suddenly I can see it in your face.'

The thing is, he's right. Literally since my 40th birthday, wrinkles I'd arrogantly thought I was immune from, have started to appear. And the frown mark between my eyes from where I concentrate when I'm typing (darn, I'm doing it now) has become noticeable even when I am not staring at a screen. It's a permanent fixture. 

The question is, what to do about it?

I've always said that Botox or Restylane-type fillers were not for me - that ageing gracefully was the way forward. 

You know what? I've changed my mind. I'm going to do my research properly, see if I can afford it, and then go for it. 

And write about it, in honest detail, of course - with before and after shots. 

Watch this space.

So, Russ and Katy, is the teenage dream over?

So today I have been looking at the photos of Russell Brand sneaking a grope of his wife Katy Perry's bottom at the premiere of his new movie Arthur last night and I can't help but feel sorry for him. 

Look at him, all adoring and big-eyed like a lovestruck fool. 

And then look at her, tense-jawed and staring into the distance like she wants to sceam at him to get off her. 

Maybe she just felt uncomfortable with him grabbing her buttocks her in public. But since she's generally quite happy to frolic around with little more than whipped cream covering her boobs, I doubt that's what it is. 

Maybe she just wasn't in the mood for a big night out, or maybe they'd had an argument. But to me that look says more than just that. 

She looks like she cannot bear him to be touching her.

There have been rumours of problems in the Brand marriage for a while now - and they have been staunchly denied.

But to me this picture says things are not good. And in fact I would go so far as to say that Katy is the one who wants out. 

I haven't seen the movie so I have no idea whether it is any good or not - though the reviews have been far from glowing. But how on earth can anyone  - let alone Russell Brand - hope to be anywhere near as gorgeous, funny or totally endearing as Dudley Moore who starred in the brilliant original?

I'd say it might turn out to be a tricky year for Mr Brand. 

At least Nigella can choose whether or not to wear a burkini...

I'm a huge fan of Nigella and the photos of her in a 'burkini' in Australia made me feel a combination of amused and horrified. 

She looks like the last thing she wants is to be photographed - and presumably that is part of the reason she wanted to cover up on the beach.

There must be loads of women out there - including me - for whom the idea of being snapped frolicking in the waves in a bikini is bad enough just for a family photo album. But if it was going to be seen  - and commented on - by hundreds of millions of people across the world? I think I'd be next in line for the extreme cover-up option.

Having said that, maybe actually the reason she has dressed in such an extreme way is that she has such fair skin and is filming Masterchef out there. 

Since each episode of Masterchef actually takes weeks to film, I'm guessing the producers might be quite irritated if she turned up with a beetroot face and that famous cleavage was blotchy and peeling, totally ruining any continuity in the epsiode she appears in. 

In any case, having seen women in the Middle East who have no choice but to wear these outfits on the beach in the interests of modesty, I'd say however ludicrous she looks and whatever her reasonsing, at least Nigella has the choice (when she's not making a TV show) to wear whatever the hell she likes on the beach.

 

A warm welcome to London's very own Spice Market

Lucky me  - an invitation to Spice Market, London's hottest new restaurant in the fabulously blingy W hotel, the latest addition to Leicester Square.

The chef, Jean-Georges Vongerichten is a bit like the Gordon Ramsay of New York - a household name with some two dozen hugely popular restaurants over there. 

He did have a presence in London some years ago, with Vong, the restaurant at The Berkeley, but it closed in 2003, and this is his first venture back in the UK. 

So...does Spice Market live up to the hype? 

The answer is that I had the most fantastic time evening there.

From the deliciously sweet-sour kumquat mojito (or was it two?) while waiting for my favourite foodie male friend who is ALWAYS fashionably late, to the amazing giant cookies I took home for my children (ahem..ok, I had one for breakfast the next day), it was all totally scrummy. 

The restaurant itself is uber glam, all gold and silver and silk and velvet, and we had a great table with views over Soho.

The menu is based on south-east Asian street food, and is a selection of vibrant, colourful Asian fusion dishes - full of exciting flavours and wonderful texture combinations.

My favourite part was the starters - and the best of them was the hamachi sashimi with chipotle reduction on crunchy rice (Yes, regular readers, my Dukan diet had a bit of a night off). This was salty, sweet, smoky, soft and crisp all at once  - a real 'wow' dish.

I also recommend the fragrant mushroom egg rolls - and you should try the lobster summer roll and don't miss the crab dumplings. 

The main courses were delicious too - try the crispy salt and pepper brill with Thai basil and lime or the halibut with Malaysian chilli sauce if you like very spicy food, accompanied by a delightfully refreshing (though not very Asian!) beetroot salad with yoghurt, chilli and herbs. 

The duck curry is apparently absolutely superb, but by the time it arrived I couldn't eat another mouthful!

We washed it all down with a couple of glasses of fruity German reisling followed by a bottle of my favourite, zingy Isabel New Zealand sauvignon blanc. 

It was a very jolly evening - this is a restaurant with a great buzz, there's lots going on with a really fun crowd of mixed nationalities and ages to watch - and I had a great time.

The bill? To be honest, it wasn't my turn to pay! But it's one of those places where it totally depends how much you order, and what dishes you go for. Starters are from £7.50, mains from £14, and you can get a bottle of rose for £23.

My advice? Don't over order - you can always get more as you go along. And find someone fun to treat you to a guaranteed great night out!

Jean-Georges - in the words of a British pop group you might have heard of, I hope this time you're back for good.