Cherie and Friends

I don't normally watch that much TV, but staying in B&Bs in small towns up Northumberland way it suddenly became the better option of an evening when the only alternative to escape the rain-swept streets was to sit in dismal half-empty pubs where no one could smoke any more and the lingering stale smell of cigarettes only served as an oppressive reminder of what was missing. Last week, as a result, I watched, among other forgettable contributions, The Real Cherie Blair on BBC. Which I didn't, as it happens, find particularly interesting or informative (beyond an amusingly irony-free appearance from Piers Morgan criticising Cherie for her lack of morals), and would have forgotten all about if I hadn't chanced to read a couple of particularly nasty reviews today. It wasn't the programme itself which was the subject of such bile, mind: it was Cherie herself. You have to wonder what it is about the woman that inspires such contempt. Here's A.A.Gill in the Sunday Times:

The partners of politicians are a soft target, and it is one of the nasty corollaries of democracy that, though they are not elected and have no power, no staff, no income, no role, no voice, they are endlessly answerable to the rhetorical spleen of commentators and comedians. Mostly, they are simply scorned, like Mary Wilson with her poetry and Norma Major with her petit-bourgeois sensibilities. But with Cherie Blair, the mockery grew truly vicious. She was created as a monstrous figure of national loathing in what became sustained bullying. Even her final, mild exit line about not missing the press much was flung back in her face with gob-flecked baying.

All true enough - as he happily proceeds to confirm:

This look at Cherie’s life shows her to be brittle, defensive, quick to take offence, unwilling to take blame and utterly, completely, totally bereft of charm. In short, not a particularly attractive or likeable woman.

Maybe not gob-flecked baying, but not far off. Truly vicious would pretty much fit the bill. He clearly watched a different programme from me.

With a huge self-awareness blind spot, she told us she’d never bothered about clothes or make-up or appearance because she was the clever one. Her cleverness may well be voluminous, but it doesn’t begin to cover her vain regard for her cleverness.

Oh dear. If there's one thing worse than a clever woman - a clever, successful woman - it's one who actually dares to comment with pride on her intelligence.

Well OK, A.A.Gill's trademark style is boorish/controversial, so his views are really no surprise. By way of contrast then, let's hear a woman's view - Kathryn Flett in the Observer:

During The Real Cherie Blair (BBC1) it was nearly possible to warm to the wife of the former Prime Minister, but just as one was about to cave in and say 'OK, you're all right Cherie, even if your husband sucks', Mrs B would suddenly say something so fabulously gauche and ill-judged or unnecessarily chippy and defensive that, never mind the media, she was her own worst enemy. No demonstrably 'clever' 21st century woman can get away with being so incredibly dumb so very often.

The deal-breaker - the thing that ensured that I could never sit comfortably on the end of Cherie's marital bed, chatting in a sisterly manner about blokes while rifling gigglingly through her smalls, a la Carole Caplin - turned out to be the following extraordinary observation on the subject of fashion: 'It wasn't one of my main obsessions in life. I was always a girl who was a clever girl, and who was interested in ideas.'

The italics indicate Mrs B's own emphasis - and this is one of the reasons I love watching telly: after spending 10 years on occasional Cherie-watch and having consumed, not to mention occasionally contributed to, a squillion newspaper column inches on the subject, one little quote buried in the middle of an otherwise uncritical programme turns out to reveal almost everything you want to know about the ongoing tug-of-love between the 20th century-bluestocking Cherie Booth QC and that nice Mrs Tony Blair.

Personally, I come across few clever women who still earnestly believe that an interest in, and an understanding of the importance of, the way you look brands you as a lightweight. The cleverest of my female friends are - and not by some happy genetic accident - among the most unapologetically stylish women I know.

But of course that's not what Cherie Blair was saying; that an interest in, and an understanding of the importance of, the way you look brands you as a lightweight. She was saying that for her, as someone who's succeeded at a profession which requires considerable intellectual prowess, she was aware of her slightly dowdy image but hadn't let her lack of fashion sense bother her. Or at least she hadn't until she became newsworthy as the Prime Minister's wife, and journalists - female journalists often enough, like Kathryn Flett - made it clear that despite a career as a barrister, poor Cherie was somehow not quite, you know, comme il faut. From working-class stock, you see. No style. Because, whatever you may have heard to the contrary, women - no matter how clever - must have style. How does Kathryn so eloquently put it? "The cleverest of my female friends are...among the most unapologetically stylish women I know." Well of course they are (and I think we can include Kathryn herself in that group, can't we now?). The style is part of the cleverness, you see. For women, that's what clever means. It may be OK for someone like Ann Widdecombe to lack style, but then she's knowingly frumpy, and happily plays the part. Cherie Blair was never willing to play the frump. Why should she?

Well now she knows. Between those stylishly clever friends of Kathryn Flett who just instinctively know what heels to wear and how much decolletage to show to suit any situation from boardroom to dinner party, and the other-wordly frumpy blue-stocking, there's a great big hole - and Cherie Blair's fallen right down the middle. For the great British establishment, from boorish male columnist to liberal post-feminist, that's simply unforgivable.

Comments

[Vagabondblogger]

We have friends who hated her so much they referred to her youngest as "the devil baby," when Sherrie was pregnant - as if it was Rosemary's Baby.

[dearieme]

"The partners of politicians are ..endlessly answerable to the rhetorical spleen of commentators and comedians. Mostly, they are simply scorned, like Mary Wilson with her poetry and Norma Major with her petit-bourgeois sensibilities." What utter cock. I can remember back to Lady Dorothy Macmillan, and I reckon that until Cherie, they were mostly simply ignored. Mary Wilson and D Thatcher were gently guyed a little, but that was it. The only time I ever heard anyone discuss Norma Major it was because they happened to have met her. Ignoring the spouse is right. The problem with Cherie is that her husband wanted to exploit her, to insist that we shouldn't ignore her, but simultaneously say "hands off". He and his gang weren't clever enough to pull off that difficult trick. It then transpired that she, like him, lacked any sense of propriety. Of course, people had begun to ask why a dyed-in-the-wool Socialist thought the local Comprehensive wasn't good enough for her brats - a legit question, I'd have thought. Some people were also suspicious of Human Rights laws that might almost have been designed to enrich her and her cronies - a legit doubt, though not one that I happen to share. Add to that the folly of her lies about her little property speculation in Bristol and I have considerable sympathy for the people who scorn her. "Devout Catholic" + "Mayan birthing rites" - what a hoot.

[RBEastlondon]

It was her remark about Palestinians having to turn their children into suicide bombers that violated protocol and showed her up for what she is:someone who wants to exert political influence without responsibility.

[Noga]

All this resentment is like a mirror image of Hillary Clinton's lot as far as she is generally perceived, including the choice not to be bake cookies (to be clever), the indifference to what is considered fashionable chic, and the slip about the Palestinians. They both have suave, brilliant and eloquent husbands who are also charming and amiable. It's as though, on their own, they might have been admired as the hard working, principled persons they are. But as their husbands' chosen mates, they somehow disappoint. These journalists sometimes seem to miss a basic principle of decency: that you don't have to admire someone in order to be fair to them. One wonders, what's their problem, really?

[DaninVan]

"what heels to wear and how much décolletage to show ...".
MY style guide says 'More is better'. ;)

[DaninVan]

Just out of curiosity (being an ill informed Canuck), is there a 'Southumberland', or any other -umberland? If not, why distinguish your holiday destination with the 'North' prefix? And yes, I'm clear on the concept that someone other than M.H. named it...:)

[Morgan]

Hmm, Flett herself was a former editor of Arena, a style magazine for men. Judgng her by the standards she judges Cherie Blair, she was no great shakes.

[Mick H]

No, DaninVan, no Southumberland. The top two English counties, up against the Scottish border, are Northumberland and Cumbria. Here's a map. http://www.picturesofengland.com/images/mapofengland/england-counties.gif

Cumbria used to be called Cumberland. Northumbria was one of the seven original Anglo-Saxon kingdoms, pre-England.

[Eve Garrard]

There is of course a Sutherland, but it's way to the north of Northumberland, being right at the top end of Scotland.

[DaninVan]

Aha! That explains the Scots taking Umbrage...;)