Pierre Hardy for GAP Mania

Someone, somewhere in advertising deserves a medal. Talk about hype, viral marketing and every other mad men dream of what a successful promo campaign looks like.

I first clocked these boots in Grazia, the bible of all things fashion, roughly a couple of months ago. And I knew it then, that after a year of credit-crunch conservatism and carefully constrained card activity, these were the one investment piece that I simply had to have. These, and the Matthew Williamson parrot print and sequin maxi kaftan that were my Summer investment piece(s).

It was love at first sight. I started an affair with the boots. I knew that if I could just get my hands on them they would be the last pair of boots I would ever need. In fact, probably the last pair of footwear altogether. No, actually, scrub that last part. I definitely cant wear the boots in the Summer with the MW kaftan now, can I?

OK, so all I needed to do was procure said boots and live happily ever after. Which sounds so easy doesn't it? Except that you cant get them anywhere for love nor money - not on the internet where you can normally find anything, nor in the old-fashioned real shops where you can see, touch and try things before you buy. And forget GAPs own website for any sniff of a boot, or even any info on the release date for these beauties.

So I decided to take the very last resort. Faceless internet, corporate, contact email address "When and where can I get these boots?" And just like that, I was on the coveted waiting list. The one which apparently is littered with the fashion glitterati, the great and the good. For three whole weeks I waited tentatively for my treasure. It was like waiting for a baby to arrive. And on the due date I couldn't help ringing up for news, like an impatient, expectant relative.

"Wait your turn - they are working through the list, but you might not get exactly what you were after." No Way!!! this feels like taking candy from a baby - the cruel injustice blah blah blah..

By 5 o'clock I am now salivating over my mobile phone, which has been surgically attached to my hand all day and has accompanied me through a flurry of big-wig work meetings.

And then I get through, right at the end of the day and place my order, one in each colour - natch. I am so shallow - shallow and happy, with cool must-have boots.

Its Back

Apologies now, to all high-brow musicians who would not dare to stoop so low as to even entertain the thought of watching a trivial, trite, popularity-contest-masquerading-as-a-singing-cum-talent-competition, and utter manipulation and misrepresentation of the blood, sweat and tears that is the music business. Of course, for us normal folk who enjoy listening to pop music, and quite fancy a bit of light-hearted entertainment with the odd bit of over-dramatisation, Saturday nights mean one thing - X Factor (watched live or Sky Plusd of course).

Over the next three months millions of conversations will be had over the wisdom of the judges, the song choices, the shaggy dog stories, the Christmas duets. Like it or not, its becoming a hefty part of British pop culture.

So, who is my money on. Well, I got it wrong last year by backing Laura White, who I would still cite as the better performer. This year, I feel the standard is mediocre - the Girls all sound nice, but a bit bland, same for the Boys. The Groups are generally atrocious, except for the interesting rapper/singer who stands out a mile, and has been forced into a group in a blatant attempt by the judges to bolster that category. For the first time in a few years, the Overs is the category to watch, particularly the men. If I was Simon, I would take all four blokes through. Except he can only have three, and I cant see him keeping it an all male affair, although I'm sure the female viewers wouldn't mind.

This year, l am backing Daniel Pearce - the second time around guy, with the mohican. Lets see if I'm right...