2244 JJUULLYY 22002222 TThhee OObbsseerrvveerr MMaaggaazziinnee Take the rejection therapy challenge Summer swimwear for every body ‘Why is dating in my 50s so hard?’ Covid, Brexit, strikes, mind-numbing delays... with the industry in meltdown, we meet the people behind the scenes at a UK airport to hear what it’s like for them 24 JULY 2022 The Observer Magazine 28 In thhiiss issue Up front 5 Eva Wiseman We’ve rediscovered our inner kitten. Plus, the Observer archive 7 This much I know Tori Amos Features 8 Airport voices Meet the people trying to waft us to paradise this summer – in the aftermath of Covid and Brexit 14 Space invaders The fi ve scariest, most dangerous plant species 16 My enmeshment Leah McLaren on the tangled and intense relationship with her mother that has shaped her life Food & drink 20 Nigel Slater Scorched red peppers for hot days, and piquant lemon curd 24 Jay Rayner Harbour House in Bristol is just the ticket. Plus, the cachet of chianti classico, and a seaside chocolate taste test Fashion 2200 8 28 Make a splash Swimwear special Beauty 31 Cream of the crop The new blushers 35 Interiors 32 Learning curve A cleverly remodelled old schoolhouse near Stockholm Gardens 34 Algae fi ghtback How to revitalise your pond. Plus: rainbow chard rocks at Plot 29 Travel 35 Cor, phew! Eva Wiseman and family love their package deal to MarBella Corfu Self & wellbeing 36 Repeat the dose Inure yourself to fear of rejection by being rejected every day Ask Philippa 38 The dilemma “Why must dating men 16 in my 50s be such an unpleasant ordeal?” Plus, Sunday with Sean Paul Contributors Writer and producer Jooney Woodward, who shot TThhee OObbsseerrvv2244 JJUUeeLLYY 22rr002222 MMaaggaazziinnee ThM aeg Oazbisneer, ver Michael Segalov has the cheerful airport staff Kings Place, published work with for this week’s cover story 90 York Way, Loef aWhh MecreC Ylaorue nE nisd t Ahen da uI Btheogrin : VBiBcCe, . CHhea isn naelslo 4 a a rnedg tuhlaer (pph8o)t,o isg ara Lpohnedr ownh-obsaes ewdo rk has TtSf‘mWohuaryekmh re5eyavm0 tpeishsrye esy drc o rabsh etwhoaijandelilmcrygedt n iiw?ong’ene a r L(m0oa2ng0da o3zn3in N5e31@ 92G0U00 ) A Memoir . She lives with her contributor to this been published and exhibited observer.co.uk Printed at family in London, where she sits magazine, which this worldwide. In 2011 she was Walstead Roche, Y in a garden shed each week led to him spending 48 awarded fi rst prize in Victoria Business GETT day trying very hard sweltering hours traversing the the Taylor Wessing PVaicrtko,r Riao, che, Y/ not to get a proper job. tarmac at Luton Airport (p8), Photographic Portrait St Austell LE Th is week she wrote interviewing the people who Prize at the National PL26 8LX E Z A movingly about her get us away on our holidays. Portrait Gallery with D PETER rheelar tmioontshheipr (wp1it6h) . Afl ingdh tn wo,a tsh adte’sla nyoedt …w hy your hGeern ptloermtraanit ,J aHcakr.riet and weC moveiedt, tBhree pxeito, pstleri bkeehs,i nmdi nthde- nsucemnbeisn ogf dae UlaKy sa.i.r. pwoirtth t toh hee ianrd wushtarty i itn’s mlikeelt fdoorw thne, m CLiosvae Sr himeeahgaen The Observer Magazine 24.07.22 3 Up front Eva Wiseman Need to reach out? All you’ve got to do is try a little tenderness @evawiseman I keep hearing a word. “Tender”. Like, the “parties when no one’s paying attention to you”, and lingering look or act of care, or small kindness, at therapy so your “shrink can see how hard things or moment of profound unexpected connection. have been lately”. An excellent idea, though onions Tenderness. Walk through a city tomorrow are cheaper – all tools, whether learned in therapy or and you will see a reference to it as often as bought on Amazon are welcome. Just because we crave you’ll see a Pret, on billboards, on fi lm posters, in the tenderness right now doesn’t mean we’re able to fi nd songs people hum. I keep reading about it in reviews, it immediately, in ourselves or elsewhere. It must be whether of road movies, political documentaries, or learned and relearned, these ways of expressing love or a sex comedy about a widow in middle age. I hear pain; ways of cracking ourselves open just enough that it in interviews with artists who work with clay and we can hear and hold someone else, but not so much paint, and pop stars talking about love. On TV a Star that we can’t restick oursel ves together by morning. who spent his formative Wars series, a Sally Rooney show, a prison drama and If you are new to tenderness, fi nd it in today’s pop From the years in an orphanage.’ a comedy about the friendship between a gay and culture. If you need assistance achieving the required In 1959 he created his straight student have all recently been described as level of tenderness beyond a tear stick (available for archive fi rst revolutionary cut, ‘Th e “tender” too, as well as a menswear collection inspired £7.90 from reputable makeup stores), scheduling a Shape’ – a layered cut, the by 18th-century nightwear. We see tenderness in tender interaction for right after you have watched a A look back hair swept forward from the unlikely places because, I think, there’s a yearning for horror fi lm is useful, too. The hours between 3am and crown to fall in points at the intimacy right now. A need. 4am are handy, as is candlelight, heartbreak and the at the Observer curve of the jaw – which When the lockdowns were lifting many of us recollection of a recent grief. Magazine’s past was the basis for ‘Th e Five predicted the year ahead would be wild and raw – we’d I like it. I like the idea that everybody is reaching Point’ in the early 60s. be like animals, released. There was a kind of sugar in out, tentatively, with our gnarled computer hands, ‘Women wanted, needed, to the air, which I was certain would lead to feral hookups wanting to be understood, maybe loved. I like that we be freed from the ritual of and lust, a bawdy celebration of uncomplicated touch. are naming it, too – this soft thing, this soft warm thing ‘Vidal Sassoon was here’ back-combing and teasing But it turns out what people wanted was not to be that bruises easily. I prefer tenderness, as a concept, to proclaimed the cover of the their hair,’ he said. invited out for a frantic shag, but instead to be invited its big sister, kindness. The latter is often revealed to be Observer Magazine of 21 Hairdressing was ripe in, for tea and pillow talk, to let the soft animal of their disappointingly empty, like the fi rst time you break an April 1985, likening his craft for revolution and Sassoon body love what it loves. Where I thought there’d be Easter egg and discover the void inside and the world’s to graffi ti, as if he had tagged loathed the ‘chi-chi’ orgies in Tesco’s frozen aisle, instead we’re obsessing brittle truth. Tenderness, however, while grounded in all those tresses before approach. ‘Oh, you know, the over eye contact and the brush of someone’s hand on a a gentle empathy, has that hot artery of pain running dashing off to look after his “Oh, madaame” syndrome, wrist and a poem about peaches. We were like animals through it: the soreness of a muscle strained. And global product line (which he and the kiss on the hand.’ when we fi nally left our houses, just, not the dogs that pain allows for vulnerability, which means the sold in 1984 for £75 m) – a He said he was proud and tigers I’d assumed, more – baby chicks and the connection runs both ways – it gives and takes, waves cut and run. Well, his slogan of the scores of young You Tube farm cats that mother them by accident when build and crash, friendships are born. I welcome this was: ‘If you don’t look good, hairdressers who had left they’re orphaned by a fox. new tender world. ■ we don’t look good.’ to set up their own salons. As well as a reaction to lockdown, I wonder if this Th e man who ‘ started When he sold the product modern yearning for tenderness is also a reaction to Better Th ings is back! Th e a revolution with his company, he owned only years of irony and attempts at coolness, that self- One more fi fth and fi nal season of scissors ’, then in his late 26% of the shares – the rest imposed psychic distance which ran parallel to the the best auteurist comedy 50s, referred to hairdressing were owned by past and pandemic’s physical one. We were exhausted, many thing… about dysfunctional as an artform in his present employees. of us, after so long trying to appear as if nothing motherhood and the interview with Sally ‘With a touch of acerbity,’ mattered, as if things just happened to us and we put deepest, dullest love started Brampton, to coincide with wrote Brampton, ‘Vidal up with them one by one. And on all those Face Times, this week on the BBC, with a retrospective exhibition suddenly added, “You don’t all those Zooms, we became aware of something all seasons still shimmering at H amiltons gallery in think X bought that house missing. Even if our wifi was working, our connections there on iPlayer. Pamela London. Such an accolade in Belgravia with spit, were faltering. We emerged different. We emerged… Adlon is a genius. for a hairdresser sounded do you? No, with hair sincere. Who had the energy, after all that, to fl irt, to incredible at the time, but conditioner.”’ Chris Hall look then look away, then casually lean against the If you’d told me how much I’m reading Daddy Issues, then Sassoon was no bar? Who had the stamina for games when they could I’d enjoy visiting the London Katherine Angel’s collection ordinary trimmer. instead lean into a person and say exactly how they Transport Museum’s Acton of essays about the Th ough he hadn’t put felt, before leading them to a sofa where they could depot a decade ago I might father-daughter dynamic. scissors to hair for more together, over the course of an evening, come to a have slapped you. And yet She wonders why we than a decade or lived in the decision about what to do with the rest of their short – joy! Excitement! Th rills, as always concentrate on UK since the mid-Swinging and stormy lives? we sat in a prototype tube the child: ‘ We are alert Sixties, he was a legend Last week there was a small fl urry of interest when, train from the 80s, and a to the daughter’s daddy and a global superstar, in an interview, act or Annie Hamilton recommended carriage from the 60s, and issues; what of the father’s said Brampton. ‘Not bad the purchase of a Kryolan tear stick (a movie trick – rode on a miniature railway daughter issues?’ If we are for a man who started life a lipstick-shaped piece of wax containing menthol up to the entrance. Th ey’re to dismantle patriarchy, she in the poorest area of and camphor extracts) for when you need to cry but, open three times a year, and argues, fathers must be London’s East End, and “the actual tears won’t come”. It’s good, she says, at not just for trainspotters. kept on the hook. The Observer Magazine 24.07.22 5 This much I know Tori Amos, singer-songwriter, 58 Interview RICH PELLEY My father was in the ministry. Once the galaxy. When I look at the stars and in a non-clichéd way. What’s tricky is to Photograph DESMOND MURRAY my mum heard him leave for work, she think of all those gazillions of suns and learn how to groove. would take off her minister’s wife apron all that light and energy, I think, “Wow, When I look in the mirror, I hope to and put on the Billie Holiday, Frank that’s kind of electric.” The Americans call me “Exile in see bits of my mother because she was Sinatra and Nat King Cole records. She Cornwall” – as in Exile on Main Street . I my bestie. I was lucky to have her . People was the most marvellous DJ. I can’t imagine we are the only try to explain that Cornwall is one of the have told me, when your mother dies, intelligent life. I think they’re avoiding us . most beautiful places in the world. It’s you either mourn the mother you had or My brother would come home from just a bit remote. Our postcode is Devon you mourn the mother you wish you had. school and have me learn his Beatles It’s a fascinating study to crawl into but Devon is 30 minutes away. If you ask I found that profound. and Doors records on the piano. My dad somebody else’s song structure and learn the local farmer, she’ll tell you we’re not would come back from church, sit with how they solved certain musical problems Devonian. She tests us: what comes fi rst, I was homecoming queen, but only his dog collar, and I would play him what jam or cream? If you don’t say jam, she because there were a lot of nerds in my people in the church called “devil music” I prefer ladies’ may take out her shotgun. year. They became Silicon Valley dudes. – but in a classical music style. My father I certainly didn’t get the jock vote. thought I was practising for church. soccer. The guys I think you B rits are really good at moaning when things aren’t that bad. It’s tough being the wife of an I don’t know why I refer to my songs are all right, but When you have a beautiful day and it’s Arsenal fan. Can I be honest? I prefer as girls. I don’t know if it’s motherly. 90 degrees, somebody will say [does ladies come out ladies’ soccer. The guys are all right – They’re not at all childlike. They’re energy British accent]: “It’s boiling!” I giggle to I don’t want to rain on their parade. forces, like the ancient, feminine energy… myself and think: “You don’t want to be in with bloody noses. But when they fall, we all know it’s Arizona in the summer, my friend.” ■ theatre. The ladies come out with bloody I fi nd my energy from all kinds of It’s gladiatorial noses; it’s gladiatorial . things. Defi nitely from the Earth, but also Tori Amos’s LP Ocean to Ocean is out now The Observer Magazine 24.07.22 7 Wing and a prayer The travel industry has been hit hard by Covid, Brexit and, more recently, long delays and cancellations. Now, as the country fl ocks back into the skies for long-awaited holidays, we meet the cleaners, security, sales staff, technicians and chaplains of Luton Airport who are trying to keep us aloft this summer Words MICHAEL SEGALOV Photographs JOONEY WOODWARD 8 24.07.22 The Observer Magazine Audrey Eary, 57, duty free manager I was working in a high street branch of Boots when I saw an advert for an airport perfume supervisor. I got the job and started in July 2001, back in the old, old terminal at the airport, which was tiny. A couple of months later, I was popping to one of the loos when I saw a huge crowd gathered round a TV screen. I assumed there was a football match on, but when I got closer I saw planes fl ying into the Twin Towers. For a while it put me off wanting to work here ; airports felt tense and a real target. Thankfully, I continued. I’ve worked my way up since then. When the store here expanded to the big walk-through shop it is today, I came back as general manager. People say once you’ve worked in travel retail, you’ll never want to return to other stores. We rarely deal with refunds or complaints, and those who pass through tend to be in a good mood, heading off on their holidays. We’re a team of over 100 full-time staff: that’s a lot of people. The thing is, you have to walk through the shop to make it to the departure gates. We don’t have a door. That means we can’t ever shut shop for the night; we’re a 24/7 operation and need staff here constantly. During Covid, when the airport was almost empty and shops closed up, we had to call in contractors. They erected a fence through the entire shop while our staff were furloughed. It had been a really good year for us in 2019 – the team had worked so hard – so seeing the shop shut down and locked away was really quite upsetting. It was an emotional day when that fence fi nally came down again. And we returned with every single one of our staff: none made redundant, or lost to the virus. Reverend Canon Liz Hughes, 63, chaplain As a chaplain, I offer spiritual or pastoral support to anyone in need, and wearing my high-vis I spend a lot of time helping solve problems for passengers. I’m a pair of hands to be called to any situation ; someone who can drop everything to come and focus on helping people. That might mean supporting a staff member who is struggling, or stepping in when a customer urgently needs something. Of course, I look like a vicar, too. People stop me if they need religious guidance. Once a man stopped me, telling me he thought he had just said goodbye to his elderly mother for the fi nal time. I listened to him as we walked slowly together through the terminal. My fl ock here at the airport changes every day: there are both passengers and an ever-changing airport workforce. We have a new prayer room used by people of all faiths – both staff and passengers – but most regularly by the Muslim taxi drivers who work the rank outside the terminal. During Covid, I couldn’t offer support face-to-face or identify those who needed me. That was diffi cult. When I returned, I realised many colleagues had been lost to Covid, and staff didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. So people wrote the names of those who’d passed away on ribbons and tied them to a tree we purchased. We’ll do it every year now, I think, in memory of those who didn’t make it. Nic Gibson, 28, senior fi rst offi cer It’s been a tough few years to be working in the aviation industry. When Brexit fi rst came to fruition, we had mutual agreements between the UK and European authorities. We were unsure what to expect, but actually it didn’t prove much of an issue. Our pilot licences were accepted the same; there’s no need for visas to travel. Covid, however, was a slightly bigger problem. We were the fi rst industry to take the hit, and the last one to recover. It’s been a challenging two and a half years. At fi rst, things just slowed down. Then for a summer and a half I was furloughed and stopped fl ying completely. Legally, you have to do three takeoffs and landings every 90 days to keep your licence valid. I did Holding pattern: these on a simulator through that time, with all our (from left) Luton planes grounded. Airport staff Now there’s a whole new challenge, I see it all over Audrey Eary, Liz Europe. There’s been a change in passenger mindset Hughes, Nic Gibson, now things are opening up. People who’ve been locked Laura Stringer and up for years are desperate to get away, putting pressure ‹ Abid Hussain on infrastructure and – whether inside airports or The Observer Magazine 24.07.22 9 Wish you were Here... OLD COURSE HOTEL. For reservations and booking, please call +44 (0) 1334 474371, email [email protected], or visit www.oldcoursehotel.co.uk