Brigitte Nielsen insists that if she is "totally miserable with the way I look at 70, I'll do something about it."

Cardi B has always been open about her surgeries to achieve her perfect curves.

A vintage Chanel evening coat sold for 312,000 euros at the auction of socialite Mouna Ayoub's vast collection from the luxury fashion house in Paris.

Bonnie Tyler has eased up on the amount of Botox she has after the injections "lifted" her eyebrows too much.

Christine Lampard believes in "the power of mascara" and would bring the cosmetic staple as her luxury item if she appeared on the TV show 'I'm A Celebrity... Get Me Out of Here!'.

Kim Kardashian has angered Greenpeace for using the climate crisis as a "punchline" in an advertisement for the "nipple bra" that is part of her SKIMS clothing line.

K-pop star Danielle, a member of the girl group NewJeans, first developed a taste for fashion when she was a child.

Everywhere I go, I am being stalked by mullets. Walk into a pub in the vicinity of Hackney, east London, and you, like me, will be haunted by the sight of them. Queue for a Fred Again concert and you’ll see an ocean of the things. Go to a rugby match at Twickenham Stadium, and there will be as many mullets as there are team shirts. Whether you know it as the mullet or the “Kentucky waterfall” or “beaver paddle”, they’ll have been in your sightline as of late. The hairstyle, which involves a shorter crop at the front, top and sides, and longer in the back, is currently being paraded by on-screen heartthrobs like Paul Mescal, Australian actor Jacob Elordi and American movie star Timothée Chalamet. In the world of sport, Spanish footballer Hector Bellerin, British rugby player Joe Marler and Formula One driver Valtteri Bottas have all rocked the hairstyle this year (and that’s not forgetting about 90 per cent of “Aussie rules” football players have mullets right now too). But its ubiquity in modern pop culture goes back a few years. Singer Lil Nas X, for example, turned up at the MTV Awards in 2021 wearing a curly, layered version of the hairstyle. Women have been wearing the coiffure even longer. Pop culture mainstays like Rihanna and Zendaya have both worn mullets on the red carpet, in 2013 and 2016, respectively. By 2021, Miley Cyrus was donning the style. That same year, Vogue hailed the mullet as the unlikely star of modern street style. The mullet has also stormed down fashion week runways, with Junya Watanabe, Stella McCartney and Alexander McQueen all incorporating the hairstyle into their 2022 shows. If that wasn’t enough proof of the mullet going mainstream, a failsafe method for judging something’s popularity is when that trendy thing gets banned in schools, or there’s a level of moral panic about it. That happened last month when a Sunderland schoolboy’s mullet was decided to be so “extreme” that he was put in isolation and ordered to chop it off. Meanwhile, even more Brits are trying to catch up with Australian mullet culture: a doctor from Dorset made headlines this week as he has been growing his locks in preparation for the world mullet growing championships in Australia, a contest that he said was “widely considered to be the Everest of the competitive mullet growing world”. We’ve all gone mullet mad. Though the name itself wasn’t coined until two decades ago – the Oxford English Dictionary credits the Beastie Boys’ 1994 song “Mullet Head” for the popularisation of the word – the mullet existed long before that. In his book Mullet Madness, Alan Henderson writes that prehistoric people may have figured out that having their hair cut shorter at the front and longer at the back meant they could keep their hair out of their eyes and their necks still toasty. What’s more, Ancient Greek texts referenced men with mullet-style cuts, while depictions of Greek gods that date back to the 6th century suggest that the hairstyle existed even then. In certain indigenous populations in the US, long hair symbolises power and a connection with the divine, and a version of the mullet – the front spiked and the back long – is considered a traditional style in tribes of the western United States like the Blackfoot and Crow. The version of the mullet we see in popular culture today, though, strongly harks back to David Bowie’s tangerine-orange waterfall-style mullet worn as his alter ego Ziggy Stardust. In the Seventies, it set a cultural precedent for the mullet as a fashion statement. Back then, the hairstyle was subversive. It spurred strong reactions from the more conservatively coiffed elite because it refused to conform to any one standard: the mullet is both long and short; masculine and feminine; somehow, scruffy while slick. The mullet’s return could be seen as a happy accident. In lockdown, men would scissor away at their locks, crafting eccentric hairstyles out of sheer boredom, sharing pictures of the resulting cut to their respective WhatsApp group chats. But that comedy mullet has since died out. A fashionable, en-vogue hairstyle has stuck around. In searching for the perfect modern mullet, men have downed tools and turned to the professionals for help. Ryan Lewis, owner of Club 13 barbershop in Hull, says that about one-third of his customers are opting for mullets. “Its presence within combat and contact sports alone conveys a modern masculinity that has trickled down into the mainstream,” he says, adding that the “harsher cuts” seen in rugby culture are being cancelled out by the more subtle, feathery mullets worn by Mescal et al. “The modern mullet is bringing a more natural and effortless look with a softer and less obnoxious shape.” James Doyle, the manager of Bristol barbershop Harry Blades and Angry Daves, says it’s not just people who work in non-corporate environments who are taking the plunge, either: it’s becoming workplace-appropriate. “You would think it’s only the musicians or creatives,” he says. “But I’ve got a couple of accountants that are rocking mullets. Anyone and everyone seems to be jumping on the trend.” The mullet trend allows men to be more expressive and embrace their individuality. I had a sixth form student come in the other day and ask for a mullet – young men are becoming more daring with their hair Samantha Perkins, salon owner and lecturer The style has become so sought after that hairdressing schools are changing the way they train stylists, too. Samantha Perkins is the owner of the salon Hair by Sam and lectures at the London Hairdressing Academy, and says that the academy has launched special masterclasses in the art of cutting mullets due to popular demand. “It’s very technical,” she explains. “It’s cut with scissors and razors, so without using clippers – so it’s already a level three cut without a doubt. Students really need to understand the hair type to execute the look.” Perkins adds that the supremacy of the cookie-cutter “short back and sides” haircut that has dominated men’s hairdressing trends for the past decade is on its way out. “The mullet trend allows men to be more expressive and embrace their individuality,” she says. “I had a sixth form student come in the other day and ask for a mullet – young men are becoming more daring with their hair.” Michael Kent, a stylist at Blue Tit hair salon in London, agrees that the popularity of the mullet hairstyle has opened up a new way of self-expression for men. “Men’s hair has always been so bland and [the mullet] has allowed people to really embrace their individuality. In popular culture, a lot of people are more comfortable in their sexuality and diversifying so much. We’re seeing a lot of clients coming in and asking for a cut like Timothée Chalamet’s. Before, people would ask for Ed Sheeran’s hair, so you can see how it’s changing.” The mullet is not just limited to men, either. The coif has long been donned by famous women (Scarlett Johansson, Joan Jett and Dolly Parton have all worn variations of the style over the years), and both Perkins and Kent say they have women customers asking for the same. “The mullet is a genderless cut,” says Kent. “Women and men are really embracing it – it’s an androgynous look.” And if you want to try the mullet yourself, Kent assures me it suits most people: “It’s like a wig you can put on anyone!” Read More Women’s scarves and crocheted ties - what is Robert Peston wearing now? I salute Dolly Parton’s beauty routine – no one sees me without my make-up How Naomi Campbell proved all her haters wrong – including me Women’s scarves and crocheted ties - what is Robert Peston wearing now? 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Victoria Beckham appears to be cashing in on her viral “Rolls-Royce” comments with the launch of a £110 T-shirt that reads: “My dad had a Rolls-Royce”. In a viral moment from the recently released Netflix series Beckham, Victoria claimed to have come from a “working class” background, despite being driven to school in a Rolls-Royce by her father. Beckham, a four-part series, tracks the former David Beckham’s rise to fame and fortune, along with his relationship with Spice Girls star Victoria and their growing family. When a clip of the “Rolls-Royce” moment went viral on social media, viewers were quick to remark that Victoria has long been known as “Posh Spice”. Victoria has now taken that viral moment one step further and launched a T-shirt via her eponymous fashion label. The item, which is a standard, white T-shirt with the slogan “My dad had a Rolls-Royce” printed in black capital letters, is priced at £110. On the Victoria Beckham website, the product description reads: “Made from soft, organic cotton, the ‘My Dad Had A Rolls-Royce’ slogan T-shirt embodies the brand’s playful side.” “Designed with dropped shoulder seams and a classic crew neckline, it has a relaxed fit and refined feel.” Speaking to the interviewer about her family and childhood in the Netflix series, Victoria said: “We’re very, very working class.” “Be honest,” David jumped in, calling her out. Victoria protested she was being honest, but the former England footballer wasn’t convinced. “What car did your dad drive you to school in?” David then quizzed her. Victoria made several attempts to sidestep the question, uttering: “It’s not a simple answer, it depends!” However, after David repeats the question multiple times, the singer replies: “OK, in the eighties, my dad had a Rolls-Royce.” “Thank you,” says David, before disappearing behind the door once more. As of October 2023, Rolls-Royce cars begin selling at the price of £252,000. After a clip of this scene went viral online, people have praised the couple’s playful dynamic, as well as David’s persistence in getting Victoria to reveal the truth about her father’s car. “Fair play to Beckham for keeping it 100,” said one entertained viewer. However, others have criticised Victoria’s claim to have been working class in her childhood, despite having access to an expensive mode of transport. “A lot of Brits think that if you aren’t landed gentry you’re ‘working class’, very unserious,” one person wrote on Twitter/X. Read More How Princess Diana’s The Crown season six outfits compare to her actual wardrobe Uggs, gilets and disco pants: Noughties fashion is back from the dead Chris Pine defends his short shorts How Princess Diana’s The Crown season six outfits compare to her actual wardrobe Uggs, gilets and disco pants: Noughties fashion is back from the dead Chris Pine defends his short shorts

A kind of refined beauty, made up of draped pearls, mod suits, and tiered frill, formed what we know to be Princess Diana’s bespoke wardrobe through the 80s, while a modern elegance juxtaposed with a bit of casuality took hold of her 90s apparel. In general, the icon, famed for her charitable actions and discernible humility, inadvertently left a lasting impression as the archetype for understated luxury, and Elizabeth Debicki’s renewed role as the “people’s princess” in season six of the Netflix special The Crown, captures that very sentiment. Back with the first four of the final episodes, The Crown has offered a fictionalised behind-the-scenes take on the royal family’s history from Queen Elizabeth assuming the throne in season one all the way up to Princess Diana’s devastating death in season six. And though the actors’ portrayals of each figure are meant to leave stylised impressions of their personalities, their costumes have left viewers with an all-too-realistic picture. Amy Roberts and Sidonie Roberts, the show’s wardrobe designer duo, have worked to fit each actor in garments representative of emblem outfits seen on the royals over the years – Debicki’s assumption of Diana being markedly authentic. The Roberts pair did not fault in the first half of season six, which released on 16 November, dressing Debicki in identical replicas of Diana’s ensembles in the summer of 1997. In the first episode, Diana is pictured on holiday in St Tropez. The Catherine Walker red dress seen on the actual royal on that very same trip is extremely similar to the one seen on Debicki. Between the high, square neckline – very depictive of 90s style – and the double, gold buckle waist belt, Debicki’s costume is almost an exact match for the Walker original, with the exception of the fabric shade. Diana’s was a more of a coral red with a hint of orange to make the hue a less potent ruby. However, in the show, the sophisticated shift garment is pinker. But the massive gold clip-on earrings worn by Debicki look exactly like the real ones. Because the season majorily recounts Diana’s time in the Mediterranean with her boyfriend Dodi Fayed, just before her untimely death, Amy and Sidonie were tasked with dressing Debicki in the many one-piece swimsuits Diana wore that summer. “There were lots of swimsuits on Diana this year,” Sidonie told Harper’s Bazaar ahead of the release. “She’s wearing them for four episodes – in fact, the majority of her outfits on her rail for this season were swimsuits.” Diana’s actual leopard print halter-neck, made by Gottex Swimwear, was re-released by the company, therefore allowing the show’s costume to be the exact style and design seen on her. But of Diana’s more illustrious waterproof wear, was her low-back light blue suit worn on Fayed’s yacht. Not only did Debicki favour this particular one-piece out of all her wardrobe changes throughout season six, but the designer pair were especially determined to do the bodysuit justice – which they did. “That blue swimsuit is so iconic,” Sidonie remarked. “That image of her, what we call ‘walking the plank’ and sitting at the end there, it’s so iconic that I think for an actor when they’re in that, it makes them feel completely in their character.” Each swimsuit seen on Debicki in season six came from Gottex as Diana donned the brand repeatedly. On shooting in the shimmery, aqua-coloured piece, Debicki noted: “There was just something about that swimsuit and recreating that moment that felt very sacred and important, and it was very important we got it right.” “It’s as close as possible to the real imagery and yet what I get to do as an actress, kind of enter into that space, which all the things around it feel so accurate, and then I get to discover what’s emotionally in that moment,” she told Harper’s Bazaar. The first four episodes of The Crown season six are now available to watch on Netflix. Read More How Princess Diana’s The Crown season six outfits compare to her actual wardrobe Fans react to most ‘heartbreaking’ scene in The Crown What’s fact and what’s fiction on The Crown season 6? The story of Dodi Fayed - Princess Diana’s last partner The story of Kelly Fisher, Dodi Fayed’s model ‘fiancé’ he dated alongside Diana Did Princess Diana really confront the paparazzi in Saint-Tropez?

Every so often, when I’m in the grips of extreme procrastination, I scroll back through the old photo albums on my near-dormant Facebook account. Their titles are a mix of forgotten teenage in-jokes and once-beloved song lyrics (no doubt a hangover from the Myspace era, before Zuckerberg). The pictures, captured on the digital camera that accompanied me on every night out, look a little fuzzy now, compared to the ultra-high resolution of an iPhone. But they’re still sharp enough that you can make out all the hallmarks of Noughties fashion in every group shot. There are battered pairs of ballet flats. String upon string of fake pearls. Slouchy off-brand Ugg boots. Hi-shine, high-waisted disco pants, reflecting back the flash of my Canon. More waistbelts than the average episode of Gok’s Fashion Fix. I can practically smell the frazzled scent of burning hair, straightened to a crisp. All very nostalgic, all very cringe, all now thankfully relegated to the big Topshop in the sky. Or so I’d naively thought. Fashion’s relentless trend cycle comes for us all in the end and this year, it seems, the nostalgia pendulum has come to rest somewhere around 2007. Bella Hadid and Emily Ratajkowski have been papped strolling through New York City in beige Uggs. A waistcoat is acceptable – even chic on a night out – no longer the sole sartorial preserve of Steve Arnott from Line of Duty. Its more practical cousin, the gilet, is also back, ready and waiting to keep your torso warm and your arms cold. Kylie Jenner is wearing disco pants, paired with going-out tops of indeterminate length. Most triggering of all? The discovery that beloved Scandi brand Ganni is now selling a high-fashion version of the sole-destroying ballet flats that teenage me wore until they fell apart (typically after about two months of continuous use). It was inevitable that the trends of my adolescence would get re-tooled for a new generation somewhere down the line – that’s just how fashion works. But I certainly wasn’t expecting it to happen quite so quickly, or to induce such a stomach-flipping sense of vertigo. It’s only been exacerbated by a clutch of that era’s cultural figures re-entering the public consciousness. Pete(r) Doherty, once the poet laureate of try-hard indie teens, is cropping up everywhere (“ARE YOU WATCHING PETE AND LOUIS THEROUX????” my lifelong best friend urgently WhatsApped me the other night, reminding me of my teenage Libertines obsession). Waistbelt-wearing, bodycon-loving pop legends Girls Aloud may or may not be reuniting (please make it so!) and, erm, Call-Me-Dave Cameron is making a return to frontline politics. It’s enough to make you feel like a portal to the past has somehow opened up, Doctor Who-style (naturally David Tennant, who played the Doctor in the latter half of the Noughties, is reprising that role later this year). Noughties fashion is having a moment on screen, too. Emerald Fennell’s new film Saltburn stars Barry Keoghan as Oliver, a working-class student at Oxford who is befriended by the aristocratic Felix, played by Jacob Elordi; Felix later invites his new pal to spend the summer at his family pile. It takes place between 2006 and 2007, and these fictional freshers dress in authentic period finery: the three “Js” – Jane Norman, Juicy Couture and Jack Wills – superfluous beaded necklaces and daffodil yellow LiveStrong charity wristbands. The latter, of course, were a rubbery tribute to now-disgraced cyclist Lance Armstrong, which, for some unfathomable reason, became a must-have. When they sold out online, we’d go to bizarre lengths to source one. I distinctly remember sending an envelope covered in first class stamps to a friend of a friend of a friend, then receiving a rubbery bracelet in the post about a month later. I had only a vague idea of exactly who Armstrong was, really, but I liked the pop of colour against my white “Make Poverty History” band. To nail this very specific period look, Saltburn costume designer Sophie Canale made “mood boards mainly of my friends drunk on Facebook as inspiration”, she recently told Women’s Wear Daily. She sounds like a woman after my own heart. And just like my friends and I, Fennell’s characters love a good pair of Uggs – or at least, Ugg-adjacent copycats. So devoted was I to my tan knock-off versions that 16-year-old me carried on wearing them almost immediately after undergoing a knee arthroscopy (fake Uggs and crutches – a real fashion statement). My physiotherapist was horrified – and for good reason. In 2010, the British College of Osteopathic Medicine put out a statement imploring teenage girls like me to ditch their poorly-made imitation boots, warning that the lack of foot support could eventually lead to wear and tear on the ankles, knees and hips. “Just because something becomes a trend or fashionable doesn’t mean it’s good or right,” the organisation’s then-head Dr Ian Drysdale warned. Wise words indeed – but if I’d heard them at the time, I’d probably have rolled my eyes and gone back to trying to find the perfect footless tights to pair with my fleecy shoes. Ballet flats, with their similar absence of support, were pretty terrible for your podiatric health too, but it was a sacrifice we were willing to make in order to look a bit like Kate Moss. Looking good could be painful: after attending one friend’s 16th-birthday meal, I had to go home and lie down in agony thanks to waist belt-induced indigestion. Of course, Mossy, the patron saint of Noughties style, was on Canale’s radar when it came to dressing Saltburn’s students. The costume designer tracked down styles from the model’s first fashion collection for Topshop, which would have been seriously hot property around the period in which the film is set. More than 15 years on, I still have near-perfect recall of almost every piece, because I wanted them so much: the silvery halter-neck gown, the red skinny jeans, the patterned shorts crying out to be layered over a pair of 60 denier opaque tights. I’m pretty sure those designs are probably seared onto my poor, long-suffering mum’s memory, too. Like some sort of mini Miranda Priestly, I sent her trawling round all the Topshops in the Liverpool City Region to try and find the sell-out pansy print tea dress from Kate’s line. Why didn’t I do it myself? Too busy stomping around Snowdonia, attempting to get a bronze Duke of Edinburgh award, having been gaslighted into believing that this would prompt paroxysms of admiration from university admissions staff. She never did find the dress, but I managed to get hold of one years later, when Moss re-released some of her greatest hits to mark her final Topshop collection. It shrunk to unwearable dimensions after a few washes, but I still have it hanging in my wardrobe like a tiny floral trophy. Perhaps one day I’ll sell it on Vinted to a Gen-Zer who can’t remember the Noughties but likes the retro aesthetic (I’d have to label it “worn, with minor fake tan stains”, though). But most likely I’ll keep hold of it. The clothes we wear when we don’t quite know who we are or what we’re doing with our lives are a bit cringe-worthy, yes, but they’re also strangely endearing. Much as the rational part of my brain might be horrified by its baffling silhouettes and bizarre accessories, I’ll always have a soft spot for Noughties fashion – just don’t expect to see me in a waistcoat any time soon. Read More Chris Pine defends his short shorts Balenciaga divides with release of ‘absurd’ $925 bath towel skirt Women’s scarves and crocheted ties - what is Robert Peston wearing now?

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