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Teachers star James Lance models for Brighton boutique Minky’s new store

I was recently invited to the relaunch of one of Brighton’s most popular boutiques, the fabulous Minky, formerly of Sydney Street but now relocated to beautiful new premises right in the heart of The Lanes.

I’ve known Minky’s owner Ian Peggs since he first opened the store back in early 2000, and so I was delighted to hear that he was opening a new store on Ship Street and lost no time in heading down there to pass on my congratulations. Guests browsed the fantastic fashion items on display while enjoying delicious canapés and a complimentary glass of fizz.

And what launch party in Brighton would be complete without one of our resident population of celebrities turning up? This time, it was the very lovely Teachers star James Lance, who stopped by to see the new shop and also have a look at Minky’s new range of model shots, starring – you guessed it – James Lance!

Kitted out head to toe in Minky’s finest, James certainly cuts a dashing figure in the photos, one of which I’m printing for you here. Of course, if you want a closer look, you can always pop down to the shop yourself. Tell Ian I sent you!

Katona incognito

Spotted! On my weekly trip to London, a very dowdy looking Kerry Katona with her husband Mark Croft in the ITN News reception. In a big leather jacket with a woolly beanie hat pulled right down over her eyes, Kerry was clearly trying to travel incognito – and after the week she’s had, who can blame her.

From ITN HQ I went straight for a meeting at the fabulous Shoreditch House (Soho House’s East End sister) where we had dinner in the very same restaurant that Posh Spice had graced with her presence the evening before. With its Cowshed spa and heated rooftop pool (complete with sign reading ‘No Heavy Petting’) this is one venue I’ll definitely be revisiting…

Love’s labours won

I hear that, since his recent show-stopping appearance on Channel 4 series Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares, former thespian Allan Love has been so fully booked that he’s had to turn diners away from his Kemp Town restaurant Love’s. In the show, viewers saw struggling restaurateur Allan totally lose his rag with celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay, to the extent where he actually kicked the entire film crew out of the St James’s Street restaurant, yelling: “He ain’t God! He’s Gordon Ramsay! Screw him!” Now it’s a few months since Love’s (formerly known as Ruby Tate’s) received the Ramsay treatment, and the hungry diners of Brighton and Hove just can’t get enough of Allan’s posh fish and chips, and business is truly booming. So now I reckon that Allan Love’s Gordon!

Jo Brooks is director of Brighton-based PR company JBPR Ltd,
01273 622555, www.jb-pr.com

Andrew Kay slips happily into a luxurious mood at Gars in Brighton

The confusion caused by the concept of fusion food seems, happily, to be slipping away. What chefs as talented as Peter Gordon of Providores in London brought to the table was an inspired springboard for modern cuisine. At best it was a starting point for a new canon of modern cookery. Sadly, rather too many lesser practitioners took it as license to muddle flavours and mess up perfectly decent ingredients.

When Gars burnt down, the owners saw an opportunity to re-invent this 24-year established Brighton Chinese for a modern market. They could have gone down the fusion route, but instead went for a chic reinterpretation of the classics and a few new ideas that, while inspired by the concept of fusion, are far less whimsical.

“While fashionable and stylish, the cooking remains solidly classical”

I pop in to Gars from time to time and last year we held the Latest Christmas bash there, complete with karaoke. I personally did a few Neil Diamond numbers, God knows why I chose Neil Diamond. They did us proud too, with a massive spread of food and a way above average selection of vegetarian dishes.

A few days ago, I got a call asking if I could go in with my other hat on, that of creative director here at Latest Magazines. They required some input for a marketing campaign and some pictures too. Well, I took no time in getting out my Canon and polishing up my macro and, with my lovely assistant Ms E at my side to wield the reflector, headed off to The Lanes.

I have, over the years, done a great deal of food photography, usually styling and art directing and not often pressing the button. When I first started out food for pics was all fake. I hated that, and when I had enough experience (and clout) I stopped it and insisted on shooting real food, where possible cooked by the authors of the books I was designing. I also dispensed with expensive stylists, choosing to do it myself. It meant that we could manage readers’ expectations, there was hope that the food they prepared would look like the food in our pics. And we got to eat the food too, rather than binning the lot.
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Dani questions the value of those supposedly helpful emotional clichés

Why is it that when in certain situations we all say the same things? When a friend’s relationship ends we say: “There are plenty more fish in the sea” or “You’re better off without them” or “They obviously weren’t the right person for you”. When someone dies, the favourite seems to be: “They’re in a better place now” or “They’re smiling down at you now”. If you’re suffering anything like I was last year when having a nervous breakdown, I heard nothing but: “Take one step at a time”, “These things only make you stronger” or “It’s all about taking baby steps”.

I doubt it’s just me (well, I hope it isn’t) who thinks all these ‘sayings’ are crap and don’t make you feel any better whatsoever. But I still say them, even when they have been said to me and I’ve wanted to throw something big and hard at the person offering up these pre-planned sentences designed to fill an awkward gap in conversation.

The question is, if everyone knows that saying these things makes no difference, why do we say them? Why don’t we just tell the truth?

Saying: “There are plenty more fish in the sea” to someone who has recently lost who they think is the love of their life is quite insulting, as at that point they don’t want any other fish, they want the one they had! In times like that, you want hope that the person who has left is going to turn round and declare their love for you. But it’s never a good idea to give a friend false hope, especially in matters of the heart. But just so we’re clear, it also doesn’t help to rabbit out all the phrases stored in our brains because we can’t think of anything better to say.

“It’s never a good idea to give a friend false hope, especially in matters of the heart”

I feel that at this point I should suggest some other words to offer up in times of need but to be honest I can’t think of any. Mainly because I don’t think there is anything that’s ‘right’ to say, I just know that the phrases mentioned above don’t help at all. And in general, when a friend is going through anything that hurts, there is nothing anyone can say that will make the smallest difference, but for some reason we feel it’s better to talk crap rather than say nothing at all. But sometimes, saying nothing is the best way to go. Sometimes the person hurting doesn’t need any words designed to make them feel better, sometimes they just want another person to understand how they are feeling and give them a hug. Because feeling sad sometimes makes you feel very lonely too. Especially when the sad feeling is connected to someone leaving, moving to a different country, deciding they don’t want to love you any more, or dying. Because the feeling of being abandoned is sometimes the the most painful part. Sometimes you’re not upset they’ve gone, just sad that they left you behind.

There are no phrases to ease the hurt. “Everything happens for a reason” is the worst, because what good reason is there that needs you to feel that bad to learn it?

Victoria Nangle deals with our different tastes in humour

You know what I find embarassing? Not so much the dying on stage, although that’s not good. Not so much the look of ‘too much information’ from the front row when I pick on one of them. Not even when I stride masterfully onto the stage, forgetting to pick up my foot just high enough for that last step, and go sprawling across the stage. That’s not quite so bad. What I find difficult, and excrutiatingly cringeworthy, is when people rave about a comic that I just don’t get.

“We all have different senses of humour, which is what makes us individual and fun to be around”

We all have different senses of humour, which is what makes us individual and fun to be around. Who knows what ‘Wacky John’ in accounts is going to say next, or ‘Bizarre Lesley’ who sits by the photocopier? We all entertain each other in different ways, and some of us find others of us funny, and the remainder don’t. It’s just one of those things. I good friend of mine is liable, upon meeting a whole new group of people for the first time, to charge in with the backwards glance of a comment “I’m just going to see who gets me.” We like having a shared sense of humour. I feel special that I’m one of the people who ‘get’ him.

Which is why it’s even more annoying and skin-crawling when friends I have loved and laughed with, and with whom I share a huge number of basic interests and views – mostly discussed late at night and with major conviction – suddenly proclaim the best comedy genius is someone who can’t even raise a chuckle with me.

Maybe it’s due to this ‘comedy being the new rock’n’roll’ thang. There was a time when my best mate wouldn’t go out with anybody who wasn’t as deeply into Depeche Mode as she was. Now she’s loosened up on that rule a tad but those strict dictates of friendship allegiances through similar tastes are no longer restricted simply to music. Whether it’s Billy Connolly or The League Of Gentlemen, some acts dictate that you’ve got to love them or be damned.

Generally when this comes up I just keep quiet. Like you do about anything that embarasses you. The first time I remember feeling quite like this was when all those magic eye posters came out. I squinted and I twisted and I pulled the strangest faces trying to just look through my eyelashes, and still it was just loads of very small odd shapes that tried to make my head hurt. In the end I proclaimed them that almighty of disses – silly. Which is what, when pushed, I’ve said about everything else I don’t quite get. Maybe it’s not silly but it certainly can’t be as clever as everyone else seems to think. Ever felt like the small child who pointed out the Emperor’s new clothes? That’s me that is.