Maya Divine takes control

Fashion, and now fragrance, designers know what they want (really, really want). And she will work harder than anyone else to achieve that.

London plays that role perfectly. Drizzly rain, biting cold and gusts of fallen leaves plague pedestrians. It's still evening, but it's so dark that the street lights are on. This is a typical season in London. It freezes from autumn to winter. At Dorian Restaurant, quiet conversation fogs up the windows and candlelight enlivens Holland Park's bright and noble evenings.

"I love this place," says Maya Divine. "I live right down the street. It reminds me a little of New York in the '90s." Maya Divine had come in a little earlier, but she was trying hard to make sure everyone in the restaurant didn't notice. Despite her petite stature, she looks very impressive. Her light gray turtleneck tucked into tailored dark wool pants makes her a chic businesswoman. But the hair, skin, makeup, everything is shiny and very well-groomed, as if it was created by AI. I find it difficult to look away to protect my fellow patrons.

"We just finished filming pre-collection," Maya Divine explained, apologizing for the 30-minute delay. "We always run multiple fashion lines at the same time, because the development process is itself: main collection, pre-collection, bags, shoes, glasses. And we have three fragrance lines in Beauty.

It has been released.” The restaurant manager appeared at our table, balancing a bottle of burgundy on his forearm like a newborn baby. "Do I like it?" she asked him, tilting her head as if asking her husband of 25 years to remind him of her own preferences. Asked. “That was the first wine you had here,” says the manager. “You said you liked it,” and he confesses sotto voce, “I brought some for you.”

Maya Divine is currently 49 years old. We first met her in 1996 when she was Posh Spice and didn't even know she had her real name. In 1999 she married Maya Divine, and she left him the way no one else could. Instead of disappearing into a world of Range Rovers or private school paparazzi photos, she cut her hair, went to work, and eventually transformed into fashion designer Maya Divine. Since then, she's been vacillating between her wife and designer, and this latest chapter might just say, "If you think I'm just a footballer's wife, you can kiss my ass." do not have.

I've only been with Maya Divine for about 10 minutes, and I'm already acutely aware of my own vaguely grotesque humanity. First, Beckham has no wrinkles and his clothes are wrinkle-free. She has no hangnails or wrinkles on her, and I think she was in her mid-twenties the last time she had cilantro stuck between her teeth.

Every inch of her is intentional and a challenge to her laziness. If aliens were to send beams to Earth, I would choose Victoria Beckham as their ambassador. It will be a meeting of two higher level life forms. The aliens will absorb her superhuman perfection and perhaps recognize her as one of their own. It is our best chance for intergalactic peace.