I’m always gobsmacked by those photos of slebs getting off long-haul flights and looking like they just stepped out of the hairdresser’s chair. Maybe they did. Maybe they were in seat A1 and Bartholomew the stylist was in A2, prepped to preen before landing.
It seems the simple solution to looking good post-flight is to wear black & have 700 million dollars
I flew out to Marrakech last week with Tony Baggins for a combo of need a holiday/it’s our wedding anniversary/it’s his birthday. But, being me, I didn’t step off the plane looking a million dollars and it wasn’t – although a brilliant holiday – completely disaster-free.
Comparison will help here. I will list just a few of the things I did and you can have a little think whether it would ever happen to someone flawless. Someone like Beyoncé…
1. On the flight over I spilt an entire glass of Diet Coke over myself (and a small bit over Baggins). My tray table with my meal was down and the seatbelt sign was on and I couldn’t really move so I basically had to sit in a puddle of pop for about 5 minutes. Then go wash myself and my clothes in the teeny, tiny sink of the teeny, tiny, smelly plane loo.
THIS WOULD NEVER HAPPEN TO BEYONCÉ. She’d be on a private jet with her private jet butler feeding her private jet champagne through a private jet gold straw and her private jet emerald gown would stay fizz-free.
2. On Baggins’ birthday he got NO CARD from me (cos I’m rubbish at cards) and NO PRESENT (because I accidentally left it at my sister’s house back in England).
THIS WOULD NEVER HAPPEN TO BEYONCÉ. Jay Z would get a new island and a personalised spaceship and a lifetime’s supply of red M&Ms. (And a T-shirt that says “better call Becky with the good hair” on the back just ‘cos no one messes with the Queen).
3. Sometime between days 4-5 two bites emerged on my right hand which definitely weren’t the mozzie-variety. GAG. I made Tony B Google to see what little bugger had been biting me, but with the proviso: “Do it later when I’ve forgotten I’ve asked you and ONLY tell me what it is if it’s not something disgustingly minging.” He told me it was a burrowing weevil that had left its eggs in my skin like the darling man he is, but then admitted no, looks like from Google probably just an ant or flea.
THIS WOULD NEVER HAPPEN TO BEYONCÉ. Beyoncé would never have fleas.
4. I insisted that we needed to see more than just Marrakech city. I’d read too many travel blogs, been on too many tripadvisor reviews and I’d got cocky, OK. I basically forced poor Baggins into a group day trip to some “famous” waterfall because I thought I’d regret it if we didn’t. Turns out I regret it that we did. The average age meant it was pretty much a Saga trip, and we had to hide from a racist old couple from Middlesbrough who kept making sweeping statements about the French as our non-air-conditioned coach trundled through the non-descript dust of southern Morocco. When we got there the waterfall pools – that we planned on swimming in, in that carefree, splashy way that people do in brochures about waterfalls – had poo floating in them.
THIS WOULD NEVER HAPPEN TO BEYONCÉ. It just wouldn’t, I don’t think it needs explaining.
5. On the last day we had to be up and out to catch our flight home at 6am. We packed up our room and went down for a still-dark-outside breakfast before our taxi was due.
“Got everything?” asked Baggins. “Yep”, I said in that ignorance-is-bliss way I usually adopt.
He produced my wedding and engagement rings from his pocket, multi-tasking by laying them on the table and eye-rolling at the same time. I’d left them on the side after slathering myself in a last dose of cocoa butter.
THIS WOULD NEVER HAPPEN TO BEYONCÉ. I’m certain she has an official Jewellery Assistant on staff who looks after that kind of boring detail and an official Cocoa Butter Slatherer so she wouldn’t have to take her rings off anyway and I’m DEFINITELY certain she wouldn’t need to get the earliest flight of the day cos it was part of her package deal from Expedia.
I don’t think Jay Z has to put up with this shit