Katie Price cut the unlikely figure of leading lady at the 2014 Isle of Wight Literary Festival on Friday afternoon. Dom Kureen was there to witness the glamour model-cum-author’s one hour question and answer session, aimed to publicise the latest tome affiliated with brand Price, Make My Wish Come True.
Retrospectively the scheduling implied a tinge of anxiety from the event’s co-ordination collective – an oft salacious former Page Three model waxing lyrical about her latest contribution to the literary landscape, during a mid-afternoon sermon within the walls of St Mary’s church.
The unlikely setting, on the grounds of the awe-inspiring Northwood House in Cowes on the Isle of Wight, played host to a premeditated examination more pillow fight than hard hitting inquisition, with the artist formerly known as Jordan ‘premièring’ jet black locks to accompany a faux fur Gilet and knee-high boots. Not a follicle flicked out of place, an aesthetic triumph of unapologetically brimming lips and tangerine luminosity.
National paparazzi were in attendance and lapped it up, with their gaudy cameras and loose, overlapping physiques a rare treat for those south of the solent.
The Isle’s local media didn’t seem quite so enamoured with the arrival of a bona fide national celebrity; one journalist affiliated with a regional publication stating to me their disillusionment at the decision to book this particular speaker, deciding instead to attend one of the many simultaneous events taking place.
Surprisingly diminutive in the flesh as she belatedly took her seat on the stage, Price looked every inch the star with her veneered teeth now gleaming under church light and her skin colour verging on radioactive as she sat cross legged across from her publicist for a cosy chin wag.
A section of the conversation poked at the contribution that warrants the tag ‘Katie Price’ adorning front covers, a process that sees her variously verbalising basic concepts into a Dictaphone and sharing vague outlines with professional writers, who then proceed to form a story (“I’m not very good at the writing part.”)
Regular reference was made to Price’s slew of cosmetic surgeries, most notable among these mentions were a desire to continue augmenting her breasts into old age, and remarks centred around marriages and children – white noise to all but die hard fans. Happily, a brief narrative regarding her visually impaired son Harvey was refreshingly unrehearsed.
Jordan came across as affable and brutally honest about her claims to fame, suggesting that her emergence had been the result of a lot of luck accompanied by tireless endeavour and refusal to allow derisive journalists to derail her impressively lengthy tenure as a national A-lister.
The demi-stocked peanut gallery then received their opportunity to contribute to proceedings, with their inquiries possessing the collective venom of a meditating monk, although Ms Price did take an evasive tone when asked if she was a feminist and stated regret for getting those pesky veneers.
From there a book signing was abridged due to ferry scheduling, while shutterbugs were denied their money shot as Jordan refused to step out of her car to be snapped.
– Relatively likeable and aesthetically pristine, Katie Price doesn’t claim to be an author. There was nothing ground breaking here, a harmless and anticlimactic booking.