Alpha women must elbow beta men aside

12 April 2012

A great leap forward at City Hall - Boris Johnson has appointed a woman as his transport adviser. Not just any woman either. Isabel Dedring, according to a source, is "a true alpha female" - so not just your usual, beta minus sort.

Aides tell the Standard that she "knows London transport inside out" (that should come in handy for the Mayor's transport adviser). What, I wonder, constitutes being an "alpha woman" other than turning up to work on time without baby sick on your shoulder and knowing what you're doing in the day job?

It's the kind of description used by organisations that think the only sort of woman to have around the office is an outstanding one - and that the majority of professional life is quite naturally run by men, alpha and frequently otherwise.

Boris, as we know, likes women, but he's not the only senior politician of his era to regard the norm to be blokes in the starring role, women in the chorus. We do hear a lot about female representation in Parliament but far less about the overwhelmingly Boy's Own make up of the inside circles of politics.

Is it impossible to produce a female strategist like Cameron's Steve Hilton? And where is it written - apart from in The Thick Of It - that spin doctors must be male? Combing the ranks of policymakers, media advisers and party tacticians, I rarely find a woman in a role more formative than making sure the leader gets on the right train, or the "gatekeeper" function of ensuring he sees the right people. The politicians who claim to be most enlightened are also the most comfortable with mini-me men around them.

Only Nick Clegg is a true progressive here, with a bright special adviser who is not only female but pregnant (see how much we can manage at once, Boris).

Ladies, there's one other way to elbow the men aside and steal the glory. Carla Bruni has this week launched a website where she trumpets her personal achievements - and not in a Sarah Brown cupcake-making sort of way .

"The First Lady's presence," she insists, "can be interpreted as taking a stand on current affairs." Elysée sources say she now refers to herself as the "Première Dame". Now that's a status worth aspiring to. You don't even need to marry the French president or be a Dior-clad supermodel to have Première Dame tendencies.

I spent a day recently with a close friend, whose PD tendencies are unapologetic and inspiring. It means never agreeing to a meeting that cannot be scheduled after your early morning blow-dry, always expecting the best table in a restaurant and pleading claustrophobia if seated towards the back.

Suddenly, I'm seeing PD women all around me - from the super entitled-sounding TV historian Lucy Worsley to Ms Bruni's latest bid for world domination. The only place you're likely to find anyone relegating them to the second tier is in office life.

Now I know how property oligarchs feel

I should be shocked at the revelation that Ukrainian oligarch Rinat Akhmetov has spent £136 million on Britain's most expensive flat at One Hyde Park and a mere £60 million on the interior.

It's just that after a week of dealing with builders on one of those "budget" kitchen rebuilds that soon spirals into Portuguese levels of debt, I do sympathise. "Look, you can get an entire kitchen for £5k at Ikea," you trill to the other half.

As soon as the work starts, a list mounts of things that simply cannot be left undone, due to unspecific "building regs" diktats. The floorboards will be ruined, so you might as well do them as well - and those cheap ovens never really work, so better upgrade. Mr Akhmetov probably meant to get a modest pied-à-terre. Now look.

Lib-Dems don't read Bagehot

Rather against my usual instincts on the rights of women, I'm not convinced by Nick Clegg's quest to end primogeniture in the royals.

"Imagine," said one Cleggster to me, "the outcry if Wills and Kate have a girl and she won't be Queen." Somehow I can't see thousands thronging The Mall to protest. Unravelling threads of the royal skein is a tricky business. Bagehot recommended not letting daylight in on magic. Letting Lib-Dems in on it might be even more risky.

Are you surrounded by smug colleagues who had the foresight to book a whole 11 days off on the trot for only three days' leave? Me too. The Economist being an international sort of place, water cooler chat is about who can get furthest in the time. Naturally, our household has somehow contrived to keep working throughout most of the jumbo-break. Day trip to Ramsgate, anyone?

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