Laura Craik on how not to love it up on holiday and Pirelli’s calendar progress

The schools have broken up, which means it’s the holidays, which means it’s holiday romance season, which means it’s time to issue a few guidelines before everyone goes Full Chloe Green. Oh, Chlo’. You had a yacht. Surely the main point of a yacht is the privacy it — sorry, she (#yachtlingo) — affords. No paps lurking in the bushes = no nasty surprises on TMZ when you come ashore? While most of us have to make do with a s***ty beach bar or a cronky bed in an eggbox hotel, you had the perfect, fully air-conditioned setting for a clandestine holiday romance. But you invaded your own privacy, went up on deck and snogged the life out of him. Whoops!

Clearly, Chloe is superproud of her superyacht conquest, Jeremy ‘The Hot Felon’ Meeks, a man (and now model) whose criminal record for possessing a firearm presumably pales into insignificance when she looks into his limpid abs — sorry, eyes. Which of us hasn’t had a holiday romance with a bad boy and spent the summer convincing ourselves, drunk on sunshine and vodka, that he’s The One? (Okay, me. I haven’t. Too scared of catching an STD).

Tempting as it may be to post steamy shots of you and your oh-so-hawt catch on social media, some caution must be exercised. Have we learned nothing from Hiddleswift? Or Kendall and Harry? The internet is littered with cringeworthy visual evidence of photogenic yet ultimately doomed romances. Go careful out there. No married people. No matching tattoos. No makeshift I Heart… T-shirts. No enthusiastic sign language because you speak English and she speaks Slovak — the international language of love will only take you so far. To quote the words of Dr Seuss: don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened. Just maybe don’t tell the world that it did, yeah?

Taxi rebate

Tyler, the Creator might rap about his LaFerrari; Jay Z and Drake might namecheck the Rolls-Royce Wraith, but if the glorification of four-wheeled status symbols is a longstanding trope of rap music, clearly Not3s (pronounced ‘Notes’) hasn’t got the memo. In ‘Peng Ting Called Maddison’, the Hackney artist waxes lyrical not about a flashy sports car but about, er, an Addison Lee. ‘I just called a driver / I slapped on a promo code to you get to my yard for a fiver,’ he raps in a bid to get his girlfriend to come over and see him (and they say romance is dead). No slouches in the PR department, Addison Lee heard the song and got in touch. ‘The first video [we did], we actually paid for the cabs, but then for the remix, they sorted us out,’ Not3s tells Pause magazine. With the song currently blaring out of every car in London, methinks Addy Lee owes him more than a free ride.

Pirelli good news

What with the 2016 edition featuring ‘achievers’ like Serena Williams and Patti Smith, and 2017’s featuring all-ages beauties such as Helen Mirren and Julianne Moore, it’s been a while now since the Pirelli calendar was a peachy bum-cheeked staple hanging lasciviously on garage walls. In what is good news for all bar those who yearn for the days of Cindy Crawford pouting pulchritudinously in a bikini, the 2018 version (above) makes further progress towards diversity. Starring an all-black cast including Naomi Campbell, Whoopi Goldberg, Adwoa Aboah, Ru Paul and Sean Combs, it was inspired by Sir John Tenniel’s original illustrations for Alice in Wonderland, shot by Tim Walker (whose idea it was) and styled by Edward Enninful, editor of British Vogue. ‘Any girl should be able to have their own fairytale,’ says Walker, in reference to the paucity of non-white role models in children’s tales. Word.