Gen z

After a lovely 25th birthday trip to Vienna, I returned home to face the reality of my quarter-life circumstances. I had been happy with my milestones to date – a degree, a stint of modelling on the European and New York runways, a couple of relationships and some encouraging writing contracts – but was then told by my mother what my grandfather Alexander Chancellor had pulled off by the time he was my age. Having moved to Italy to work for Reuters news agency, he spoke Italian fluently and had married my grandmother, Susanna Debenham; he had two children, he had bought a house and even had someone iron his shirts from time to time, which Susie was definitely not going to do. By the time he reached 35, he was editing this magazine.

The cult economist Adam Tooze generally discusses matters far beyond my understanding on his podcast Ones and Tooze. While roasting in my flat during London’s heatwave, however, I found myself gripped by a segment he did on the economics of beach recreation. Did you know that 50 percent of Americans going on holiday regard getting a tan as more important than the actual holiday? This correlates with the rise of the “tanfluencer” and “tanmaxxing” among Gen Z and the revival of the full-on, George Hamilton-style tan. As a bit of an old tanorexic myself (remember, fellow boomers, the smell of Bergasol?), I’m quietly thrilled. First, because if this is a competition I will almost certainly win it – spot the brownest white person in the room: that’s me!

A massive sinkhole recently opened up on Sunset Boulevard at Holloway Drive, just down the street from the heart of Hollywood itself. It’s a fitting metaphor for the financial and creative sinkhole that’s busy hollowing out the entertainment industry. “There’s sheer panic in the ranks. And it’s only going to get worse,” a longtime representative at a major talent agency told me. “We talk about it on an internal Signal chat at work. We can’t even believe how bad things are.” A lot is going wrong all at once, and a huge transition is not-so-quietly under way “The meteor has hit and the dinosaurs don’t know it yet,” according to a director and producer who has spent two decades making movies in Hollywood.

‘No one pretends that modern services will fill the churches. But adult converts ought to be able to step naturally into being worshippers. How absurd that a convert should be warned to undergo cultural orientation before he comes to church.’ These words of the arch-reformer Colin Buchanan in 1979 sum up the views of that post-1960s generation, who believed that all the prayer and thought which Anglicans had inherited was alien to the new generation. It was thought so alien, in fact, that a full cultural orientation would be needed to persuade people to come to church. Modernity was the answer to most questions, and most especially: ‘How do we get the young to come to church?’ Fifty years later, I am not sure anyone would call this experiment a success.

When the willowy human Feyre meets the faerie Tamlin in A Court of Thorns and Roses (known as ACOTAR by fans), he is a ‘snarling gigantic beast with golden fur’. Drama ensues when Tamlin, with his ‘elf-like horns’ and ‘yellow fangs’, kidnaps Feyre. He keeps her in captivity, then claims her: turning up in her room at night and clamping his teeth down on to her neck against her will. Two hundred pages later, the pair finally have sex and Feyre marvels that while ‘his claws were out’ they are ‘devastatingly gentle on my hips as he slid down between my thighs and feasted on me’. She moans his name and he ‘sheathed himself inside me in a powerful, slow thrust that had me splintering around him’.