On Being Gok'd

Yesterday I was "made over". Sadly, despite the post heading, I wasn't made over by the wonderful Gok - my stylist was a beautiful, elfin child called Simona. However, the experience was - um - well, an experience...

I was made-over for the Daily Express. My made-over-image is to illustrate a feature I've written, which in turn is to promo Moonshine. I was chuffed to bits that the Express liked the feature, and assumed (always bad to assume) that when they asked for a pic, it would be the publicity photo I've used everywhere for the last couple of years, and I'd just have to email it. But, no - they wanted to take their own. Gulp...

So, yesterday, Elle and I trekked to London(a journey not without its disasters but we got there - eventually) and found ourselves in the amazingly space-age Northern & Shell Building's (honestly - it's like a set from Star Wars!) photographic studio.

Simona had phoned me and said I'd be wearing a frock (erk!) but it would be a long one and were there any parts of my body I didn't want to show. That was an easy one - all of them.

Sadly, Simona's idea of a long frock was obviously one that didn't show your knickers. I stared at the rail of thigh-high, jewel-bright, tiny, shift dresses with mounting horror. They looked like they'd been nicked from the wardrobe department of Mad Men. Gorgeous, stylish, and definitely not for someone built like me...

Before I had time to panic too much, I was whisked off by the lovely Debbie who dealt manfully with my hair and make-up. I'd arrived with my usual smudgy eyes and pale lips and curly hair. I emerged with minimal eyes and huge red glossy lips. And my hair had sort of gone BIG and had a side-parting... It was a fabulous glam job but it wasn't me... I thought I looked a touch like Margaret Thatcher: the early years. Elle thought it looked lovely. And said so. A lot. Treacherous child.

Then it was back to wardrobe to be shoe-horned into the frocks. Simona said they'd be doing two shoots in two different outfits and which ones did I prefer. I clutched the purple one first because I liked the colour and it was the only one with sleeves... Off, it looked sensational. On, it looked like a sack tied up with string... I'm a lumpen girl and the purple clung to every one of them. I didn't just have VPL - I had V Damn Everything.

Simona manfully gummed me together with double-sided tape, then produced a pair of flesh-coloured tights (aaargh!) and some DDG purple shoes with 5" heels. I staggered (my feet were already numb) out into the studio. Elle laughed. Shara, the photographer, kindly didn't and asked me to pose "in a sort of cute and kooky way". Fine, if you were Twiggy in the 60s - but cute and kooky I'm not. But I tried. Dear God, I tried.

Half an hour and three million photographs later, it was time for the second outfit. After failing to get either the electric blue or scarlet frocks to meet anywhere round me, Simona and I settled on the lime green. I've never been a lime green person, but it sort of went on (eventually) over my bulgy bits and the colour was the least of my problems. It did involve Simona getting up close and personal to make it fit, but if I held my breath it stayed done up. Sadly, being sleeveless, it displayed my bingo wings to their very best advantage. This time the beautiful shoes were pearlised beige with 6" heels. I had to be carried out to the studio.

Shara was very, very brave and kept a straight face. Elle didn't. She had to go outside. Again, I was cute and kooky and laughed a lot because I felt the whole thing was mad. Completely mad. But Simona, Debbie and Shara were wonderfully professional and another twenty million photographs later, it was all over.

I staggered back to the changing rooms, struggled out of the lime green and the tights and the killer heels, and threw on my black jeans and big grey sweater and black and purple boots with total delight.

The delight was short-lived. Shara then let me see the pics. Now, she'd done a stonking job - she's brilliant, and they were Proper Photographs. But they were of someone else. I know I'm currently a good 2 stone overweight and have lots of lumps and jowly bits - but I suddenly realised I looked like my mother... Elle said it was a good look. Well, maybe it was - for my mum about fifty years ago...

Debbie, Shara and Simona seemed to agree that the Express will use one of the lime green frock pics - because they were "lovely and funny and colourful" - oh joy! And luckily, as I don't know when any of this will be published, that's the way it will stay. DO NOT expect to see any excited announcements about my Express appearance on this blog. Not until that particular edition - lime green frock, dead-slug sausage legs, Jagger lips, and more rolls of fat than a Crufts champion pug - has become a wrapper for fish and chips...