A few weeks ago, a colleague asked me to explain Elizabeth Hurley. This was a question from someone younger, which made it a trickier task than most. Well, I said, she’s Hugh Grant’s ex – before I realised that’s probably a bit demeaning as a descriptor. She’s an actor, too, I added. Or was an actor. I suppose she still is – perhaps they remembered all those headlines last year about her son directing her in a saucy thriller?
I could have brought up Austin Powers and Bedazzled. Or that safety pin dress. Or the fact that she’s so outrageously posh that when her mouth opens, the crown jewels seem to fly out. Instead, I admitted that I couldn’t adequately explain Elizabeth Hurley. Over the course of her 30 years of fame, Hurley’s most important role has simply been being Elizabeth Hurley, plummy super-goddess seamlessly transplanted into every facet of the celebrity ecosystem. This, my by-now-weary colleague told me, didn’t exactly help.
