NAOMI the GREAT

An upside of our new Zoom-operated world is supposed to be the end of lateness. It’s harder to justify when the commute is from your bed to the living room. Unless you’re Naomi Campbell, of course. Twenty minutes into waiting for her to join our call, a message pops up from a representative apologising that she’d be a few minutes late. Another 20 minutes and I’m told she’s “just working out how to sign in”. I’ve been expecting the wait, comparatively tame compared to the tales of four-hour stakeouts I’d heard from other journalists.

And then, suddenly, she enters, and the atmosphere changes even in a virtual room, international accent first and then the face that launched a thousand covers; skin dewy and glowy, goddess-like; impossibly high cheekbones