Susie Rushton: An exchange we could do without

Urban Notebook
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The Independent Online

Kate Moss doesn't often talk to the press – and in the pages of New York magazine this week, we find out why. With the Arcadia boss Sir Philip Green at her side, the model talks about her collection for Topshop.

"People want a dress which is not a thousand bucks," reveals Kate. On her approach to designing a clothing line aimed at teenage girls, she says: "I just want a dress that fits and makes me feel good and makes me feel pretty. I don't really think about the masses."

But most of all, the famously slender model talks about her new curves – the same curves which have led to speculation (since denied) that she and her rock star boyfriend, Jamie Hince, are expecting a child. It is on this subject that Sir Philip becomes really animated, in an exchange which I confess left me feeling rather nauseous. Slipping into a dress that her billionaire benefactor has bought her, Kate exclaims: "It's gorgeous."

SPG: Turn around.

KM: Oh, it is gorge. I need a few alterations.

SPG: It's better than amazing.

KM: Okay, but my boobs are too big!

SPG: Oh my God! How exciting! Now you've got titties. How exciting.

KM: My boyfriend might not like them. I'm a bit worried.

SPG: Well, they are a bit bigger than they were, aren't they?

Titties? Who says that in front of a journalist? And what woman lets it past? I'm not sure that either one of them thought about what this conversation would look like in print: that Moss is a pampered princess who enjoys being the bauble of a rich man she calls "Uncle Phil", apparently without irony; and that he allows his golden hen to keep whatever working hours she pleases, just so long as she occasionally decorates his beach holidays and engages in Blind Date-grade flirtation. Both parties seem to enjoy the arrangement, but I think I preferred it when Moss didn't give interviews.

Starbucks, I salute you

Hopefully, my local Starbucks won't be picketed by economists this weekend, because I can't get to the end of the road without a grande skinny cappuccino. I've stayed faithful even in Vienna, home of the traditional Kaffeehaus, much to the disgust of an Austrian friend who waited outside in shame. In Shanghai, Tokyo and New York, I've fought jet lag with the same milky medication – and walked blocks to score it. Hangovers are resolved only with a cheese-and-Marmite panini, and Christmas is a seasonal red cup. Starbucks is in trouble, says Mandelson. Not on my account!