I have adored Kylie Minogue for the past 20 years or so, which says something about both our ages. When I was pregnant with child number one, Kylie was on high rotation for my bump to listen to...when the bump became Olivia, she received Kylie's debut children's book for her first Christmas.
So, I've always hoped that she would grow to love Kylie as much as I do. And now she does. But not as the Princess of Pop. No, as the Pink Wiggle. Tonight, I put the DVD of Kylie's 2002 tour on for Liv, to see if she'd recognise her - sure enough, within seconds came the cry "Kylie! The Pink Wiggle!"
It suddenly struck me that, for an entire generation of preschoolers, Kylie will not be known as an entertainer of amazing endurance and versatility...but for singing "Aye Aye Aye Aye Aye Aye...huggin' up the big monkey man" with a bunch of middle aged men in skivvies.
And I'm just not sure how I feel about that.
The Perfect Spring Jacket
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