So here I am sticking up for Jordan again. I find myself in the uneasy position of thinking she's pretty marvellous. Sure, she appears to lose a battle against the "pale is interesting" debate every morning and yes, the pink vest tops and matching hair accessories can be a bit of an eyesore, but this week she tops my "coolest people on the planet" list.
First there was the hoo haa with the polo. They said she's not "elegant" and "posh" enough to play. Well I won't get into that because everyone else has, but all I'd say is she's classier than the chinless muppets she quite fancied joining on the pitch. I mean, please. They had the opportunity to make polo slightly more interesting and less stuffy to the rest of us and they've blown it.
Anyway, since then she's admitted to buying her daughter, Princess Tiaamii (nobody's going to forget that name in a hurry) 100 pairs of shoes. Indeed. Not a couple, not one pair of patent ones with a bow for best and one pair of sandals for the park like the rest of us, but ONE HUNDRED pairs of shoes.
Now, like a lot of parents, I have to fight with myself every time I leave the house not to buy my children more stuff. All I want to do is buy the little girl a life-size pony to sit on that is made of cashmere and angora wool, and I know he loves Lego. Why can't I just waltz into Toys R Us every week and get him the very latest castle, with 80 figures? What's stopping me from turning most of our home into a Lego fortress? I mean, I could sleep in the moat and we could make breakfast in one of the turrets and he'd be really happy.
Well, I can't afford it is, I guess, one of the reasons, but the other one is I don't want spoilt, ungrateful brats. My children (rarely) have friends who come round and wail and sometimes head butt the wall when I explain they can't have Nutella sandwiches for supper and that no, we can't nip to Woolies to buy everyone a Power Ranger. These kids are the I WANT IT NOW types and I try to do everything in my power to make sure mine know that they can't get everything they want, whenever they want it.
It's the same thing when it comes to pets. Now, I'm not crazy about animals. I mean, when the time comes when we can have live penguins or otters living in our bathroom I might give it some more thought, but when the only creatures you can get are scratchy (cats), sofa humping (dogs) or rats without tails (hamsters) I'm not interested.
And of course the only things my kids want are animals. She asks for a Dabbit (that'll be rabbit, she's the Jonathan Ross of babies, not so good with the Rs) every morning and he says that a gecko would make his life complete. But still, I say no.
But here's the thing – what on earth am I doing with my life if I can't buy my children presents and furry friends? Seriously. Am I really going to spend more money on Persil and mini step ladders (I am freakishly short and, yes, I bought the former house of the jolly green giant, there isn't one cupboard in the place that I can reach) when I could be spending it on glittery buggies and lop-eared bunnies?
Who am I kidding? My kids are the offspring of people who are doing reasonably well and live in the centre of London and the chances are they're going to turn out ghastly anyway. Who's to say they shouldn't have a walk-in wardrobe and possibly a stylist from the age of four?
Jordan manages to do, yet again, what the rest of us want to do. She lives in a big house with an Eighties pop star (sure, Peter Andre wouldn't have been my first choice but give me Simon Le Bon or a Kemp and now you're talking), she rides ponies a lot and often sports pigtails (I am still dismayed I have to have grown-up hair. I look really great in plaits) and she buys her children all the pets they want and her daughter owns 100 pairs of shoes.
She's the fantasy. If you asked 100 women on the street who they'd like to be, I'm sure most of them would say Kirsty Wark or Germaine Greer. Yawn. Do me a favour – they're lying. If they were honest they'd pick Jordan every time. She's living the dream folks, make no mistake.
Now the best part of this story of course is the fact that Princess Tiaamii is only 12 months old. She can't walk yet. So that'll be one hundred pairs of shoes for someone who crawls.
Now that's genius.Reuse content