The Salvation Of Cheryl Cole: Nation’s Sweetheart Shows She’s Changed
CHERLY Cole is no longer a god on television’s Mount Olympus. The X Factor and the nation’s sweetheart parted company; Cole replaced by Tulisa, a less pretty London version of her pre-Cowell-ed former self. The show would go on and Cole would… Well, what?
The talk is of ‘what next?’ for Cheryl, a woman whose star rose on the telly. The story has been of a lip-synching woman hiding her pained eyes behind big glasses – a woman for whom fame has been a cruel mistress.
Women on the magic box are always presented as role models. When we watch a woman of power and wealth on the telly we expect one thing: misery. Cheryl is not averse to wallowing in the theme: if Simon Cowell did one thing it was to turn the feisty starlet into a weeping soap opera character. Cole’s marriage to Ashley Cole, malaria, Gamu and a sexless romance with a dancer called Derek became commodities to be tapped and sold, ultimately by Piers Morgan in a harrying one-one interview in which the sole aim was to make the subject cry.
For Cheryl Cole, as with all famous women who have performed alone, life is presented as a mine of pain and victimhood. Cowell did not so much alter the pugnacious women who pushed hard for fame and criminally smacked a toilet attendant in the face as rewrite her past into a “journey” of tears. When they come to make Cheryl the TV biopic, it will feature very little music and lots and lots of weeping. Is this to be Cole’s lot, the personification of post-Diana celebrity, a photogenic icon to weep for us all as she rattles about her home… Hurtmore House.
But what’s this? Has Cheryl reconnected with the punkiness that marked her initial time in fame’s flame by giving us all the finger as she sups a bottle of champers? This is the real Cheryl Cole. You might not like it – but pop culture might have just gotten a bit more genuine…