Alexandra Shulman’s Notebook

Cheap f lights that are now anything but an easy bet

THE scenes of miserable chaos at our airports, which for days now have been overrun with desperate travellers unable to get away on much-needed short breaks, are a reminder that it was only in the 1990s that frequent air travel became the norm.

Before then, the idea that you might skip off on a relatively inexpensive flight was unimaginable. The option simply didn’t exist: the major airlines were pricey, had all the best slots and flew to far fewer destinations, while cheaper charter flights were often only weekly and routinely required you to travel in the middle of the night.

Oh my, how excited we all were when budget airlines took off. Hen parties in Ibiza, music festivals in Hungary, stag nights in Zagreb – weekends abroad suddenly became a genuine possibility for millions. It all seemed wonderful at the time. But right now? Not so much.

Leaving aside for a moment the damaging effect on the environment from frequent flying, it’s anyone’s guess whether I will have succeeded in my personal ambition to be in Majorca by the time you read this.

Major airports and airlines that should be delighted travel is back on the agenda after the dark days of the pandemic have instead gone into meltdown, suffering major staff shortages everywhere from baggage handling to cabin crew.

British Airways, which has already cancelled a huge number of flights this summer, seems to have adopted a new customer service policy that involves forcing irate callers to navigate an automated telephone menu – and then cutting the line dead just when you imagine someone might answer the phone. EasyJet, meanwhile, is cancelling flights with almost no notice at all.

The current shambles makes air travel far less appealing than in the pre-budget-flight days. Flying may have been costly and there were fewer places we could travel to. But at least once we’d bought our tickets, we could reasonably assume the journey would take place. Sadly, that is no longer the case.

Read my lippy… make-up is worth it

LIPSTICK had a terrible pandemic. It became fairly pointless while everyone was either stuck at home or wearing a face mask as soon as we walked out of the front door – so sales predictably plummeted.

But as so often in fashion, a sharp and sudden decline has been followed by a mighty fightback. As normal life resumes, sales of lipstick are up across the board – and it’s not just any old lippy we’re buying.

The latest lipsticks are not only cosmetics, but beautiful works of art. Take, for instance, the new Dries van Noten range with two-tone ceramic refillable cases. Or the Hermes lipsticks that arrive in the brand’s signature orange packaging. Expensive they may be. But when you consider the costper-wear and the pleasure you get every time you look at them, they’re worth it even at north of £50. If nothing else, it’s something to cheer you up when you’re stuck at the airport.

Haunted by a tartan torment

WATCHING the delightful home movies and family pictures of the Queen’s childhood brought back memories of having to wear the same clothes as my sister when we were young. The two Princesses were always dressed in matching outfits – meaning a blooming adolescent Elizabeth had to wear the same kit as Margaret (above left, with Elizabeth in 1941), still just a small child.

Parents delight in dressing their children in the same clothes for reasons I cannot fathom. Yet few children share that delight. As any parent will know, children care deeply about their clothes. They have a very real sense of what they want to wear – and usually it’s not the same as a younger sibling. In my case, having to wear school uniform was nothing compared to the misery of being dressed along with my younger (and more dainty) sister in identical tartan trousers, tweed 60s shifts and floral shorts.

Like the Royals, we still have countless unfortunate photographs bearing witness to that invidious state of affairs.

The twins heading for double trouble

JUST hours after marvelling at those newly released Royal home movies, I was in a queue for the till at Boots and standing in front of me were a pair of adult, male, identical twins.

They were huge – over 6ft tall and well-built – and wore exactly the same clothes: camel waterproof jackets, black trousers and brown boots, along with identical hairstyles and beards.

Choosing to look that way, one assumes, is no longer their parents’ responsibility, so it must be theirs. But how does it come about? Do they live together? Do they make joint decisions each morning on what the outfit will be? Do they buy two of everything? And can it really be true that twins don’t feel that burning sibling desire to dress in their own individual styles?

M&S pinks don’t leave me tickled

WHAT is it about M&S and pink? They just can’t get it right. There’s so much about the store to love; last week alone I was tempted by a £5 commemorative tin of Platinum Jubilee shortbreads and a very pretty cashmere cardigan. The only problem was that the cardigan was pale blue and I was in search of pink.

There certainly was pink in the store. Masses of it, in fact. But while M&S is brilliant when it comes to neutrals and denims and even blues (greens, slightly less so), for some reason a palatable pink is too much to ask. Its pinks always look cheap, whether a sickly Germolene colour or tinged with orange and more of a (sorry) common coral.

Its pastel pinks are too washed out and its deep pinks, below, are too brash. Look to India, M&S – they know how to do it.

Now Ocado delivers a pointless platitude

AN EMAIL arrives from Ocado informing me it’s going to help me ‘live my best life’. I wish it wouldn’t. What I really want from Ocado is to have Andrex in stock when I need it and to start offering the classic, soft green lettuces that make the best pairing with a vinaigrette.