DECONSTRUCTING THE BRITISH SEX ICON

The "Bextor" phenomenon deserves a smidgen of clarification, or so it would seem. Though I welcome contradictory opinions, I feel it's important to give the matter its due regard and therefore its proper explanation. While it is true Lily Allen is neither talented nor exceedingly attractive by American standards, there are a choice few of us who prefer a more shall we say "Victorian" idea of the female creature and its aesthetics. Hence our love of Sophie Ellis Bextor and Lily Allen. Maybe it's worth a deeper gaze into their mischievous-but-sparkly eyes.

1. Sophie and Lily are "talented" in that we find their art charming and quaint. Good enough to hold in high regard, but nestled somewhere between "Mmm Bop" and "Don't Go Chasing Waterfalls." George Harrison would not have written "If you think you'll get away / I will prove you wrong / I'll take you all away / Boy, just come along / Hear me when I say / Hey!" Nor would Leonard Cohen have written "I was so lost back then / But with a little help from my friends / I found the light in the tunnel at the end." However, after giving the matter significant thought, I would not eat vanilla ice cream off Leonard and George's cleavage. There are exceedingly few places on Sophie and Lily from which I would not eat vanilla ice cream. Quod erat demonstrandum.

2. The Chub. Forgive me Sophie, but I must temper the word "hot" with "adorably" when describing you. I can't in all honesty say I know why the British aesthetic is softer than the American, but I do know the extra curve here and there just drives me wild. Perhaps it's the thought of soft flesh restrained that flips the switch to on, but I prefer not to over-analyze such things and let nature speak for itself. Clearly the power to articulate this preference is beyond me, but I will say this: I do fancy a woman made hotter by the grace of erotically-themed boots. They also have accents.

3. Both Sophie and Lily are charmingly evil; they are bad girls in good girls bodies. For example, "Smile" a seemingly cheerful fun-in-the-sun-Smashmouth-esqe song, is just a big fuck-you to some loser ex-boyfriend (When I see you cry / It makes me smile / Yea it makes me smile). And the video for "Murder on the Dance Floor" shows us how our willing protagonist poisons her competition and chloroforms an unsympathetic judge to win the price of cash and sparkly shoes. My parents would surely not approve. I should point out that, despite my placing them side by side in this exercise, I would consider Lily a mere demigoddess in the shadow of Sophie's greater power. There is, however, still time for improvement.

I hope that this simple deconstruction helps springboard similarly-boned British girls to the highest eschelons of fame so that we can dance awkwardly to and poorly cover their anthems to the very ends of time.