Florence x Elle Italia

Exclusive interview to Florence Welch on Elle Italia, October 2017 (Interview by Adriana Di Lello, Styling by Alberto Zanoletti, Photo by David Burton) 

 

ENGLISH VERSION (Versione italiana nella gallery in fondo alla pagina)

An English rose with an anguished soul. Florence Welch, the flamboyant baroque pop star, singer and leader of Florence + The Machine, is a perfect heroin of our turbulent times. Punk and preraphaelite, sweet and fierce, charismatic and powerful on stage but fragile in her private life. Florence + The Machine’s three records, full of troubled lyrics, made millions of people across the world fall in love with her, especially thanks to the deep and powerful vocals and to the intense, theatrical performances of this 30-years-old Londoner, daughter of a Renaissance Studies professor and an advertising director. Alessandro Michele is one of her best fans: legend has it that the Gucci’s creative director used to listen to Florence’s last record, How Big How Blue How Beautiful, while he was designing his very first collection for the Italian fashion house. Then it was a short step to a true friendship between them – bounded by their mutual love for William Blake’s poetry. Now Florence is an ambassador for Gucci’s jewelry and timepieces, as the ultimate representative of the maximalist and decadent style that made Alessandro Michele the “darling” of the fashion industry.

We met her in Milan just as a Gucci ambassador and she gave an interview exclusively for Elle. Tall, long red hair and pale, wearing a white and blue embroidered blouse, flared jeans with flowers and ants embroidery, a claw pendant and rings with bull and wolf heads (total look Gucci, of course) – she immediately reveals her rock soul. She is very polite, calm and relaxed at times, but you can clearly feel an underlying and incessant anxiety. She moves continuously sitting on a small armchair, changes posture, bursts out laughing and turns serious right after, touching her rings while trying to speak. She gets gloomy sometimes but keeps a classic British aplomb.

  • Why do you like the Gucci by Alessandro Michele?

I think I have never met a designer whose vision matches so perfectly with mine. My lyrics are the result of different influences: poetry, art, conversations, WhatsApp messages. Dog Days Are Over was inspired by Ugo Rondinone’s installation that I saw everyday cycling on Waterloo Bridge. I found this melting pot in Alessandro as well and instinctively identified with it.

  • What of his style do you admire most?

It’s a creative style, his extreme mix seems not to make sense but it does actually, because it’s full of his sensitivity. Mixing Renaissance, Elton John and Blake’s poetry is like a triple somersault but it works perfectly. When he sent silver rings and nail polishes to me for the show I looked at them and found the words “Anger forest” etched inside. It’s a nonsense actually but makes sense in his eccentric aesthetics.

  • How did you meet?

The first time in New York, by chance. We came across on the street, I was wearing red flares and a pompon waistcoat, he was wearing his classic Shakesperian clothes: it was inevitable for us to have a peek to each other, although we both kept walking on our own then. Later we introduced and were like “Oh, it was you!” and immediately bounded and found out our mutual love for imperfect beauty, never too pretty but mixed with dark elements. And for the rings, so many rings.

  • Indeed, you are ambassador for Gucci’s jewelry and timepieces…

I love wearing jewels as talismans, I use to wear the same ones everyday and if I forget them I feel like naked. Gucci jewels are in perfect harmony with me.

  • How would you describe your style?

This look I am wearing today reflects me so much. Since a certain age you become more confident: when I was 20 I was “experimental” and so confused, the spotlight made me feel stressed and I dressed up in varied and eccentric ways to get people’s compassion. Some years ago I finally started to wear what I really like, a style between romantic and bohemian with embroidery, different patterns and printings.

  • Live concerts are really important for you. How much does your stage outfit mean?

A lot. In the past my looks were theatrical, I took out glitter and sequin pieces from a trunk and put them on randomly, running up and down the stage. With my last album the performance anxiety drastically reduced and I felt more free. And then I decided to wear on stage what I wear everyday in my private life. I read up on the easy and confident style of some performers like Nick Cave, Keith Richards, Alex Turner and even Otis Redding who had an insane energy on stage.

  • Is there an item you always wear?

A 70’s orange suede coat I bought in Dallas on tour; I love it so much that it has become the dictator of my closet and every single item revolves around it.

  • So are you not unpredictable about looks?

I am less unpredictable now because I learned to know what makes me feel comfortable. But I also love Gucci and, you know, its style is not so predictable…

  • You studied art at college: which artistic trend do you like most?

I love Jenny Holzer and his Inflammatory Essays, in general murals with lettering, words, phrases. Among young artists, I like Stella Vine and Danny Fox and I’d love to become friend to Unskilled Worker, who collaborated with Gucci as well.

  • What was the last exhibition you visited?

I tried to visit the David Hockney exhibition but was too crowded so I fell back on some masterpieces at the Tate Britain, like Three Crucifixions Studies by Francis Bacon. I love preraphaelites, which I have often been connected to. Every time I go to the museum, my manager says “Are you going and visit your friends?”

  • Your mother is a Renaissance Studies professor. Did she inspire you?

Yes, a lot. I spent most of my childhood with her in Florence, she took me to visit Medicean churches and chapels. She also wrote a book about fashion in the Renaissance and, even if she always wears black, she passed down to me the passion for clothes.

  • Your Instagram is full of hand-written quotes. Why?

I’ve got a lot of notebooks, full of personal thoughts and drawings. I don’t tweet much but I have an aesthetic vision that I love to share. I’m not so good with technology, I don’t even know how to open a Word file and if something happens to my smartphone I get in panic.

  • During the interviews you look smiling and calm but your lyrics are very troubled. Who is Florence?

Oh it’s funny, nobody ever told me I am “calm”. But one of my favorite books is Legend of a suicide by David Vann, a dark and terrible story. I met the author once and he looked like a peaceful person. I had self-destructive tendencies in the past but I’ve been lucky because music saved me; I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t have music. But yes, maybe there is an optimist part in me, like someone who is still able to get amazed by life.

  • So is music your psychoanalysis?

Yes! Sometimes songs I write are wiser than me, I use to read them again after months and find reasonable endings I hadn’t think of. It’s like my subconscious come out with my lyrics, more linear than my everyday life.

  • How do you prepare for a concert?

You must surrender to another part of yourself on stage, leave your rational side on stand-by and let instinct and impulse guide you.

  • How do you feel when you come back home after a tour?

Very bad in the past, I was so absorbed by the record that I almost didn’t exist anymore and coming back to the everyday life was a shock. It got better with my last album: when I came back home I was electrified by two years of pure adrenaline incessantly coursing through my body and I couldn’t sleep but then I wept for days. But it was a small thing compared to my past crisis.

  • How do you relax?

I have practiced transcendental meditation for three years and it changed my life, it’s a great therapy for anxiety. I often watch TV, especially crime documentaries and series like The OA; I used to feel guilty once, then I read M Train by Patti Smith and found out she does it too…

  • You said that “chaos is inspiration”. What does it mean?

That was the old Florence. There was a moment I didn’t manage to find an order and thought that the hangover was an essential part in the creative process. But then I figured out that I can do it without it and creativity is not affected.

  • Do you feel like blessed by talent?

Not really. There are things I can do, like singing, but I am a bumbler with many others – mostly practical. I have to get better. I’m slowly making it.

 

Florence Welch – L’alcol, la nuova musica e la ricerca della serenità

Florence Welch intervistata da Neil Mc Cormick per il Telegraph, 27 maggio 2017 | Articolo originale  (English version below)

Ph. Laura Jane Coulson

Florence Welch è nervosa. “Divento molto ansiosa durante le interviste”, dice, mentre le sue guance pallide arrossiscono e i suoi occhi scuri si illuminano. “Mi sono sempre sentita sopraffatta dalle mie emozioni. Anche ora mentre sto seduta qui, vorrei piangere e non so perché.”

Siamo seduti uno accanto all’altra su un divano giallo a righe nel salotto di casa sua a sud di Londra, un piccolo cottage georgiano verde inglese e nocciola, pieno di tappeti e oggetti antichi. Le pareti sono piene di cornici dorate, cianfrusaglie vintage ricoprono ogni superficie e innumerevoli libri sono ammassati sulle mensole o impilati in precarie costruzioni sul pavimento. Volumi di scrittori americani come Lorrie Moore, John Berryman e Patti Smith insieme alle poesie di T.S. Eliot e a una bellissima edizione della storia di Pompei di Mary Beard. La Welch mi vede mentre scruto questa esoterica biblioteca e ride. “Prima che arrivassi ho nascosto tutti i manuali di auto-difesa” dice.

Vestita con una leggera camicia floreale e con i capelli rossi (tinti) raccolti in trecce, Florence è pallida, slanciata, bellissima – ed evidentemente ansiosa. “Trovo più facile esprimermi attraverso la musica piuttosto che di persona” dice. “Le canzoni sono come dei talismani protettivi. Nella vita di tutti i giorni sono molto più insicura e timida.”

Di persona in effetti è irriconoscibile rispetto alla superstar acclamata dal pubblico durante il Festival di Glastonbury nel 2015. Sotto il nome Florence + The Machine (che però è un progetto solista), ha pubblicato tre album – Lungs (2009), Ceremonials (2011), How Big How Blue How Beautiful (2015) – che hanno dominato le classifiche su entrambe le sponde dell’Atlantico – cosa che le ha fatto guadagnare anche un Ivor Novello Award per il suo successo internazionale.

«Avevo questa sensazione di non essere compresa abbastanza. Da dove veniva questa stravagante creatura? Adesso ci rido su ma non è stata una cosa facile. La musica è stata la mia ancora di salvezza».

La musica della Welch tende a essere sanguigna e drammatica, guidata da potenti percussioni e imponenti muri sonori. Dal vivo unisce l’intensità della musica con l’entusiasmo della sua performance, correndo sul palco in abiti fluttuanti mentre la sua straordinaria voce passa da una tremante intimità a una potenza da opera lirica. Mentre parla, invece, la sua voce è delicata e nervosa.

“Sul palco succede qualcosa” dice. “Quando canto lassù sento un forte senso di liberazione. Io sono innamorata del mondo ma allo stesso tempo ne sono impaurita; i miei sentimenti sono molto radicali. Nella vita reale devo trovare un modo per affrontarlo; il palcoscenico invece è un posto dove tutto acquista un senso e le persone non pensano che io sia matta”.

Florence al British Summertime Festival (Hyde Park, Londra) nel 2016 – Ph. Samir Hussein/Redferns (via Getty Images)

Descrive le sue canzoni come un modo per “nascondersi… Se ti dico che sono tormentata o addolorata ma poi mi vesto bene e faccio casino, allora significa che posso uscirne. Posso anche dire la verità ma mi nasconderei ancora dietro il rumore che sto facendo.” Per How Big How Blue How Beautiful il produttore Marcus Dravs l’ha incoraggiata a ridimensionare le cose e a mettere in mostra il suo lato più vulnerabile. “La cosa che ho dovuto imparare è che l’equilibrio può avere la stessa efficacia dell’urlare” dice.

La musica è sempre stata la forma di espressione preferita dalla Welch. Un mio conoscente viveva accanto alla sua famiglia quando lei era piccola e ricorda che la giovane Florence era molto vivace e cantava sempre. “La mia infanzia è stata segnata da gente che in casa mi urlava ‘Stai zitta per favore!’, continuamente. La mia mamma cercava di scrivere un altro libro sulla storia rinascimentale mentre io me ne stavo sulle scale a cantare a squarciagola. ‘Florence!’ “. 

La Welch è nata a Camberwell, a sud di Londra, nel 1986. Sua madre, che sembra avere un ruolo molto importante nella sua vita – la casa pullula di sue fotografie – è Evelyn Welch, un’americana d’origine professoressa di Studi rinascimentali e vice presidente della facoltà di Arti e Scienze al King’s College di Londra. Suo padre, Nick Welch, è un pubblicitario diventato poi manager di un campeggio. La famiglia era facoltosa e molto unita. Su una parete c’è una caricatura di suo nonno, Colin Welch, che fu un tempo vice editore del Daily Telegraph. Suo zio è l’autore di satire Craig Brown.

Ha due fratelli e tre fratellastri. Quando era adolescente i suoi genitori hanno divorziato e si sono entrambi risposati. Suo padre ora vive fuori Londra ma la Welch ha scelto casa in una piccola strada all’ombra di un gaswork vittoriano per la vicinanza a quella della mamma. Il loro rapporto è ancora molto complesso.

“Mia madre è una donna accademica, molto intelligente e razionale. Io ero così complicata, un vortice di emozioni incontrollate che non andava bene in matematica e in scrittura e a cui piaceva solo cantare e ballare. In questo campo mia madre non era molto competente. Quindi penso che io non fossi compresa abbastanza all’epoca. Da dove veniva questa stravagante creatura? Adesso ci rido su ma non è stata una cosa facile. La musica è stata la mia ancora di salvezza”.

Florence e sua mamma Evelyn

Ha frequentato la Alleyn’s School di Dulwich, dove si è guadagnata la reputazione di ragazza di successo. Poi andò al College d’arte di Camberwell ma lo lasciò per intraprendere la carriera musicale. “C’era una grande scena di concerti e festini e io avevo solo voglia di farne parte. Di solito cantavo a cappella nelle serate open mic. Non avevo un progetto, volevo solo capire se sarei riuscita a fare quello che tutti i ragazzi facevano.”

Dice di non aver mai neanche considerato la possibilità di avere un successo internazionale ma quando portò la sua musica in America per la prima volta lo trovò immediatamente un luogo molto accogliente.

«L’Inghilterra è come un genitore amorevole che vuole sempre assicurarsi che tu non faccia il passo più lungo della gamba. Non c’è complimento senza un velo sottile di critica o beffa».

“Credo che l’America riesca per natura ad apprezzarti più facilmente” dice. “L’Inghilterra invece è come un genitore amorevole che vuole sempre assicurarsi che tu non faccia il passo più lungo della gamba. Non c’è complimento senza un velo sottile di critica o beffa. Questo in effetti descrive i miei genitori, quindi se ho generalizzato a tutta la nazione mi scuso. Vivere e lavorare in Inghilterra ti fa stare coi piedi per terra. Temo che se avessi vissuto più a lungo negli Stati Uniti mi sarei concentrata troppo su me stessa. Ho bisogno delle nuvole grigie e della riservatezza inglese per mantenere l’equilibrio.”

Se la parte musicale le è venuta sempre facile, la Welch teme che i suoi testi siano decisamente nevrotici. Nel processo di scrittura delle sue canzoni riempie i suoi block notes a quadretti con parole, frasi e disegni. “Scrivere sulle righe mi ricorda di quando sbagliavo a scuola. I quadretti mi danno sicurezza”. Prende un mucchio di foglietti dalla mensola. Il primo, su cui ha scritto la maggior parte del suo primo album, è verde, coperto con stelline e adesivi e la scritta “FLORENCE F***** HATES YOU” che campeggia in piccole lettere colorate. “Ero giovane”, dice. Intere pagine sono riempite di testi embrionali in caratteri cubitali. Su una pagina c’è un disegno abbozzato di un uomo con la barba e raggi mortali negli occhi, con la frase “la faccia grigia di Cristo”.

“A volte una canzone appare per magia, come se fosse caduta dal cielo. E a volte è un collage di cose che ho raccolto… un sogno, un messaggio, un ricordo, e in qualche modo, quando metto tutto insieme, prende senso. Penso troppo nella mia vita, quasi fino all’esaurimento, ma cerco di non farlo con le canzoni. È un processo impulsivo e istintivo.”

Ci sono stati periodi in cui ha dovuto fare i conti col turbinio del successo che l’ha condotta troppo velocemente ai vertici della carriera e l’ha portata in giro per il mondo in tour. La Welch ha reagito a questa prima ondata di successo con alcol e feste. “L’edonismo era come una maschera” dice. “Ero una bambina timida e dovevo alterare la mia personalità. All’inizio era liberatorio ma poi è diventata una prigione. Pensavo che per scrivere avessi bisogno di essere ubriaca”.

Florence allo Shaky Knees Music Festival (Atlanta) nel 2016 – Ph. Savana Ogburn

Dopo una tempestosa relazione con l’organizzatore di eventi James Nesbitt terminata nel 2014, ha scritto il suo terzo disco in uno stato emotivo acuto, con l’aiuto degli amici più stretti. “Piangevo in studio in tuta. Avevo davvero bisogno di molto sostegno per affrontare le cose.” Ma poi nel tour di due anni che è seguito ha smesso di bere e ha fatto un passo indietro. “Ho riscoperto la mia indipendenza. Mi piace andare in studio in bicicletta tutti i giorni, tornare a casa e cucinare per me, avere una vita tranquilla, leggere tanto. Mi sento più creativa di quanto sia mai stata. La gioia e il sollievo che ne traggo è incredibile”.

Si è presa una pausa dal tour ed è alle fasi iniziali del nuovo album. Non vuole dare molte informazioni ma dice che esplorerà il “buco nero” in cui è caduta. “Sono felice adesso, sono contenta, ma non sarò mai stabile, mai”, dice. “Non penso che debba sempre andare così. Molte cose hanno sempre funzionato: fare feste, essere famosa, le relazioni… ma non ti sosterrà del tutto. Queste sono cose transitorie. Comunque riescono a farti stare bene.”

Cantare e scrivere è il suo costante sostegno. “La musica mi ha sempre dato gioia, anche se è qualcosa di triste o doloroso. Sto scrivendo il mio quarto album ora e francamente non riesco a crederci. Si ha sempre la sensazione che i sogni infantili non si realizzeranno mai. Ma il mio sì.” Fa una smorfia e ridacchia. “È così sdolcinato! Ma è bello finire l’intervista ridendo. All’inizio pensavo che avrei pianto.”

Florence Welch on alcohol, new music and her search for serenity

Florence Welch is nervous. “I get very anxious in interviews,” she says, her pale cheeks flushed, her dark eyes shining. “I’ve always felt overwhelmed by my emotions. Even sitting here now I want to cry and I don’t know why.”

We are sitting side by side on a yellow striped sofa in the front room of the Florence and the Machine singer’s south London home, a small Georgian cottage fitted out in racing greens and walnut browns, patterned rugs and antique fittings. Gilt framed artworks crowd the walls, vintage bric-a-brac covers every surface, and countless books are densely packed on to shelves or stacked in perilous ziggurats around the floor.

Volumes by American writers like Lorrie Moore, John Berryman and Patti Smith rub spines with the poetry of TS Eliot and a handsome edition of Mary Beard’s history of Pompeii. Welch catches me admiring this distinctly esoteric library and laughs. “I hid the self-help books before you got here,” she says.

Dressed in a delicate floral shirt, her (dyed) red hair tied up in braids, she is pale, slender, strikingly beautiful – and evidently anxious. “I find it easier to explain myself in music than in person,” she says. “Songs are like protective talismans. In daily life, I’m much more unsure and shy.”

In person she is unrecognisable as the superstar performer who had the Glastonbury crowds eating out of her hands in 2015. Under the guise of Florence and the Machine (a solo project, despite the name) she has released three critically acclaimed, albums – Lungs (2009), Ceremonials (2011), and 2015’s How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful – which topped charts on both sides of the Atlantic, a feat that this month earned her an Ivor Novello Award for International Achievement.

Welch’s music tends to be full-blooded and dramatic, driven by vigorous percussion, overlaid with towering walls of sound. Live, she matches the intensity of the music with the exuberance of her performance, coursing across the stage in flowing costumes, her extraordinary voice climbing from trembling intimacy to operatic bravado. Her speaking voice, by contrast, is high, soft and fluttery.

“On stage, something takes over,” she says. “When I sing there is a huge sense of release. I am very in love with the world and quite afraid of it as well; my feelings come on really strong. In real life I have to find a way to shut that down. Stage is a place where it all makes sense and people aren’t going to think I’m crazy.”

She describes her songs as a way of “hiding in plain sight… If I tell you that I’m struggling or in pain but dress it up and make the loudest noise ever, I can get it out. I can tell the truth but still hide behind the noise I’m making.” For How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful, producer Marcus DeVries encouraged her to scale things down and expose a more vulnerable side. “The thing that I have had to learn is restraint can be as effective as screaming the house down,” she says.

Music has always been Welch’s chosen form of expression. An acquaintance of mine lived next door to her family when she was growing up, and remembers young Florence always buzzing about, singing at the top of her voice.

“My childhood was just people shouting ‘Shut up, please!’ in the house, all the time. My mum would be trying to write another book on renaissance history and there would be me upstairs belting out show tunes. ‘Florence!’ ”

Welch was born in Camberwell, south London in 1986. Her mother, who seems to loom large in her life – photographs of her are dotted around the house – is Evelyn Welch, an American ex-pat currently Professor of Renaissance Studies and Vice-Principle for Arts and Sciences at King’s College, London. Her father, Nick Welch, is an advertising executive turned camp site manager. The family was affluent and well connected. One wall sports a framed caricature of her grandfather, Colin Welch, a former deputy editor of The Daily Telegraph. Satirist Craig Brown is an uncle.

She has two younger siblings, and three step siblings. In her early teens, her parents divorced and both have remarried. Her father now lives outside London but Welch chose her house on a small street in the shadow of a Victorian gasworks for its proximity to her mother’s home. Yet their relationship is clearly complex.

“My mother is a very intelligent, logical and highly academic woman. I was this unwieldy, freewheeling ball of emotion who wasn’t good at maths or spelling and just liked singing and dancing. This wasn’t my mother’s field of expertise. So I guess there was an early sense of not being quite understood. Where did this strange creature come from? You know, I laugh about it but it has been quite a painful thing. Music has been my source of self-preservation.”

She was educated at Alleyn’s School in Dulwich, where she earned a reputation as a high achiever. She briefly went on to Camberwell College of Arts but dropped out to pursue a career in music. “There was a big scene of gigs and squat parties, and I just wanted to join in. I used to sing a cappella at open mic nights. I didn’t have a plan. I just wanted to see if I could do what all the boys were doing.”

She says she never even considered the possibility of finding international success but when she first took her music to America, she immediately found it to be a very welcoming place.

“I think America finds praise easier by nature,” she says. “England’s sort of like the loving and essentially very supportive parent that also wants to make sure you don’t get too big for your boots. No compliment comes without a slight criticism or a joke.”

This, she says, quite “literally describes my actual parents, so if I’ve just projected on to the whole country I sincerely apologise. Living and working in England is very grounding. I worry if I lived too much in the States I could get rather caught up in myself. I need grey clouds and British reserve to balance me.”

If the musical side has always come easily to her, Welch frets about her lyrics to an almost neurotic degree. In the process of writing her songs, she fills notebooks of squared grid paper with words, phrases and drawings. “Writing on lines reminds me of getting things wrong in school,” she says. “Squares feel more comforting.”

She pulls a clutch of notebooks down from the bookshelf. The first, in which she wrote most of her debut album, is a green pad covered in stars and stickers, with “FLORENCE F—— HATES YOU” spelt out in tiny coloured letters. “I was young,” she blushes. Entire pages are taken up with embryonic lyrics felt-tipped in block capitals. One page sports a sketchy drawing of a bearded man with death rays coming from his eyes, under the phrase “the grey face of Christ”.

“Sometimes a whole song appears by magic, like it has poured out of the sky. And sometimes it’s a scrapbook of things that I’ve collected… a dream, a text message, a memory, and somehow when I put them all together it makes sense. I overthink everything else in my life, to the point of near exhaustion, so I try not to with songs. It’s an impulsive and instinctive process.”

At times, she has struggled with the whirlwind of fame that sped her to the heights of her profession and spun her off on tours around the world. Welch reacted to that first flush of success with heavy drinking and hard partying. “Hedonism was like a disguise,” she says. “I was a shy kid and I had to alter my personality. At first it’s freeing but then it becomes a prison of its own making. I thought you needed a hangover to write.”

After a tempestuous on-off relationship with event planner James Nesbitt ended in 2014, she wrote her third album in a state of heightened emotion, collaborating with close friends. “I’d be crying in the studio in a tracksuit. I really needed a lot of support to get things out.” But she quit drinking on the two-year tour that followed and pulled back from the brink.

“I’ve rediscovered my autonomy. I like riding my bicycle to the studio every day, coming home and cooking for myself, having a low-key life, reading a lot. I feel more creative than ever. The joy and ease with which it comes is unbelievable.”

She has taken a year off from touring and is in the early stages of a new album. She doesn’t want to give away too much about it but says it will explore the “black hole” into which she fell.

“I’m happier now, I’m content, but I’m never going to be fixed, ever,” she says. “I don’t think that’s how it works. A lot of things almost worked for me: partying almost worked, being famous and successful almost worked, the relationship almost worked… but it won’t sustain you. These are transient things. It’s working out how to be OK regardless.”

Singing and writing is her one constant balm. “Music always brings me joy, even if it’s about something very sad, or painful. I’m making my fourth album now, and I honestly can’t believe it. You feel like childhood dreams are not supposed to come true. But mine has.” She grimaces and giggles. “That’s so corny. But it’s nice to end the interview laughing. At the beginning I really thought I was going to cry.”

Telegraph.co.uk all rights reserved