I had a funny moment last night. I went to a very grand house on a very grand street in Chelsea, owned by a woman on her second marriage to someone frightfully grand and rich (think 'Dukedom' and you've got the right ballpark). Anyway - her study (only posh people have studies, right?) was almost Magic Eye-dazzling for its leopardskin. A vast, red trimmed leopardskin rug (not real animal skin) covered the floor. And leopardskin-covered small armchair sat in one corner. There were some other leopardskin trimmings dotted about but I could hardly absorb it all in one eyeful. Everything else was posh-as-you'd-expect: huge, plump sofa covered in a softly-coloured taupe wool material, a wooden hot water bottle on a side table (?), small pieces of tasteful Italian art, a desk littered with papers and paperweights. But, really - all one could see was leopardskin.
It reminded me of the time I was sent to Chingford for three days by the Mail on Sunday to track down all of David Beckham's teammates from when he was eight. It turned out not to be that difficult as, bar one dead and one who lived in Hertfordshire (and only then because he was paid to live there - he was a footballer for the local team), they all still lived in Chingford. We went to one of his old friend's houses and in a tiny lounge at the back of the house was a room with a leopardskin-covered chaise longue, with leopardskin lampshades and small crystal bowls of boiled sweets on the nests of tables. I realised that, rather touchingly if you think about it, David and Victoria Beckham lived in the exact same house only 50 times bigger because they have £50 million to spend on it. So they are totally true to their roots, no matter how pretentious all the snipe-y media like to pretend they are.
And, as you know, Victoria Beckham is also known as 'Posh'. Turns out, with all that leopardskin, she really IS.