It takes a lot for me to muster up enthusiasm for a Middleton, but last week, James brought a noteworthy date to the GQ awards: his cocker spaniel Ella. I’m not sure if anyone on the red carpet took the opportunity to shout: “Who are you wearing?” at the dog, but allow me: she sported a flattering black jacket with a fetching tartan sort-of kilt, with Pets as Therapy in a blocky white print on the back. In January, Middleton wrote eloquently and at length about his experience of depression; in the piece, he explained how vital his dogs, and particularly Ella, had been for his recovery.
Middleton volunteers for Pets as Therapy and Ella is a fully fledged therapy dog. Whenever I hear about support animals, I think of an unforgettable New Yorker feature from 2014, in which writer Patricia Marx explored the growing numbers of officially sanctioned “emotional support animals” by trying to take a snake, a turkey and an alpaca with her into restaurants, museums and shops (not at the same time). It is a brilliant, witty piece and one of my all-time favourites. It revelled in the absurdity of the ease with which a psychologist could deem a peacock, for example – banned from a United Airlines flight in 2018 – necessary for emotional support.
But that’s the silly side. A charity such as Pets as Therapy recognises that animals can be used to improve the moods of people in care homes, in schools and hospitals. Pets can be so calming that robotic animals have been used to comfort patients with dementia. They can bring shy children out of their shells. They can be a balm for loneliness. I keep reading new studies that suggest people with dogs are healthier and happier. It makes sense: I walk every single day, in all weathers. When I walk, I chat to strangers about our dogs. It’s small talk, but it’s a connection.
In difficult times, my dog is a constant. She can be a reason to get up in the morning and a reason to go outside. I understand that not everyone likes dogs and that not everyone can have a dog. As a lifelong renter, I count myself extremely lucky to have an understanding landlord, because having her in my life has improved the quality of it beyond what I could have ever imagined.
With the comfort and calm that she brings, she is worth the embarrassment of every picnic she ever crashed (as a puppy – she’s a good girl now). Ella, then, certainly deserved her big night out. Let’s hope she didn’t feel too, er, ruff in the morning.
Barbie Ferreira: Euphoria’s star happy at last
I devoured all of the wonderful HBO drama Euphoria greedily, both aghast at the horrors of its teenage cruelties and charmed by its sweet naivety. As the troubled Rue, former Disney star Zendaya has pulled off an astonishing career transformation. In a new cover feature for Garage magazine, she has worked with the photographer Ryan McGinley and the artist Simone Leigh to create “a new vision of black womanhood”, by reimagining Leigh’s work. In conversation with Leigh, Zendaya also talks about her aunties in Oakland being Black Panthers.
In the New York Times, another of Euphoria’s stars, Barbie Ferreira, who portrays the One Direction fan-fiction writer turned cam-girl Kat, discusses her close friendship with Hunter Schafer, who plays Jules, and what she has in common with her character. She explains that wearing latex and leather made her feel comfortable in a body she had struggled to accept: “I was like OK, ‘The cat’s out of the bag. I’m fat,’” she said. Both interviews seemed an intellectual world away from the traditional “I’m so grateful” platitudes of young-star profiles, in which a newish actor is scared to say anything at all. It feels like a shift is happening and what a refreshing shift it is.
Kaia Gerber: the games supermodels really play
The model Kaia Gerber landed her first British Vogue cover last week, at the age of 18. In the gorgeous Steven Meisel shoot that accompanies it, she bears more than a passing resemblance to her mother. To paraphrase the great Mrs Merton, I wonder what first attracted the fashion world to the daughter of supermodel Cindy Crawford. In the interview, Gerber talks of being an “old soul” and when asked if she has time for a romantic life, she demurs: “I have backgammon in my house and that’s all a girl needs. When I’m at home, I’m living the life of a 70-year-old woman.”
It’s hard to believe, I know, but it is not often that I can relate to an 18-year-old supermodel in the making, so I enjoyed this moment of solidarity and recognition. Who wouldn’t want to live the life of a 70-year-old woman, who got to retire at a reasonable age and probably owns her own house?
Earlier this year, during dry January, my girlfriend suggested we try to make the most of the long, stretched-out evenings by not mindlessly slumping in front of the box. There is much that will go unsaid of that dark era, but, with time, I have been able to admit that jigsaw puzzles made an appearance.
That is not to imply that all 70-year-olds love puzzles, of course, but I could certainly see the appeal; we had to call an end to it when they started making me late for real-life occasions. Once you’ve cracked the outer edge, it really is hard to step away. I am not sure I’m quite ready for backgammon yet, but who knows what next winter will bring. I suspect I have a future in whist.
• Rebecca Nicholson is an Observer columnist
