Ok, I admit it: I’ve been holding a grudge against David Cameron (yes, the Prime Minister). I’ve told my husband about it, perhaps a few friends here and there. But I’ve mostly kept it to myself because I thought it might seem a bit, well, petty. But in light of recent revelations about his penchant for friendships with those at the glamourous end of the media as the phone hacking scandal at News International refuses to go away, I’ve decided that my little grudge may have more validity than I thought.
I belong to an organisation of people who work on UK magazines. Like I do. Occasionally this particular organisation features interesting guest speakers and topics at its sort-of regular get-togethers. One such occasion was an event at the Tory HQ at Millbank, an evening of drinks and canapes with “Call me Dave” before he could tell anyone to call him “Prime Minister”.
Typically at these events, you’ll find more of the glossy handbag-shoe-and-celebrity magazine brigade (the “Call me Xanthe”s) than business-to-business magazine types sucking up the wine and orange juice. But to meet Dave, well, we B2B geeks were out in force, naively expecting the chance to shake hands and say a few words about the concerns and issues of our respective industries — in my case, recruitment.
Dave began to cut his swath across the crowded room from the back, spending a few minutes in light chit-chat with each cluster of attendees before gracefully moving onto the next. Finally, he arrived at our group. A sentence or two in about running along the Thames, an aide moved in, whispered to Dave and delivered the editor of a leading handbag-shoe-celebrity title into our midst. Ah, how Dave lit up and turned on the charm. Oh, how a “she” (the fragrant Sam Cam, no doubt?) had “loved the article”, he raved. He and the lady at the forefront of the UK’s fashion-and-Cheryl Cole reportage (no doubt a perfectly nice, capable, intelligent woman) chatted animatedly for a good 10 to 15 minutes. She made her apologies, he then made one more stop, a brief one, at another group and was gone.
So here’s where the grudge comes in. A bit of an ego sap? Maybe just a bit. But that’s not all. Consider this: no fashion mag is going to ask the tough questions about the economy or individual business sectors. (Well, let’s not completely dismiss the often campaigning Marie Claire on that one, but it’s unlikely.) Readers of fashion mags may want to know when the PM’s lovely wife is going to design another world-beating bag in the wake of the “Nancy” but that’s not Dave’s turf. In this one little vignette, the chance to rub shoulders with the glossy, luxury fashion world won out over tapping into a nodding acquaintance with the minions of British industry news — a rich tapestry representing niche industries, sectors and businesses that I’m proud to be part of.
So are politicians immune to the dominance of “sleb” and fashion obsession that cheapens our culture? Not one soupcon. Should we be concerned? Yes.