Shadow cabinet election results in full

Yvette Cooper tops ballot. Peter Hain, Ben Bradshaw and Diane Abbott all miss out.

We weren't expecting the shadow cabinet election results until 9pm, but Labour MP Barry Gardiner has just leaked them on Twitter. Below are the 19 MPs who have made the cut.

Notable casualties include former cabinet ministers Peter Hain, Ben Bradshaw, Shaun Woodward and Stephen Timms, as well as Diane Abbott, David Lammy and Stephen Twigg. Hain, who was a key Ed Miliband supporter, will be particularly disappointed not to have been elected. But Diane Abbott's failure comes as no surprise. The right loath her socialist politics and the left haven't forgiven her decision to send her son to private school. Elsewhere, Tessa Jowell, one of the few remaining Blairite ultras, will be pleased with her performance.

As widely predicted, Yvette Cooper topped the poll with 232 votes, putting her in pole position for the shadow chancellorship. In total, the shadow cabinet contains 11 women (out of 25), not far off Harriet Harman's original target of a 50:50 split.

1. Yvette Cooper: 232 votes

2. John Healey: 192 votes

3. Ed Balls: 179 votes

4. Andy Burnham: 165 votes

5. Angela Eagle: 165 votes

6. Alan Johnson: 165 votes

7. Douglas Alexander: 160 votes

8. Jim Murphy: 160 votes

9. Tessa Jowell: 152 votes

10. Caroline Flint: 139 votes

11. John Denham: 129 votes

12. Hilary Benn: 128 votes

13. Sadiq Khan: 128 votes

14. Mary Creagh: 119 votes

15. Ann McKechin: 117 votes

16. Maria Eagle: 107 votes

17. Meg Hillier: 106 votes

18. Ivan Lewis: 104 votes

19. Liam Byrne: 100 votes

They join the following Labour MPs and Peers who are already members of the shadow cabinet:

Ed Miliband, Leader
Harriet Harman, Deputy Leader
Tony Lloyd , Chair of the Parliamentary Labour Party
Rosie Winterton, Shadow Chief Whip
Baroness Jan Royall, Shadow Leader of the House of Lords
Lord Steve Bassam, Chief Whip in the House of Lords

The Defeated

Emily Thornberry: 99 votes

Peter Hain: 97 votes

Fiona MacTaggart: 88 votes

Barbara Keeley: 87 votes

Vernon Coaker: 85 votes

Patrick McFadden: 84 votes

Helen Goodman: 80 votes

David Lammy: 80 votes

Stephen Timms: 79 votes

Chris Bryant: 77 votes

Shaun Woodward: 72 votes

Gareth Thomas: 71 votes

Kevin Brennan: 64 votes

Roberta Blackman-Woods: 63 votes

Diane Abbott: 59 votes

Stephen Twigg: 55 votes

Tom Harris: 54 votes

Ben Bradshaw: 53 votes

Iain Wright: 43 votes

Barry Gardiner: 41 votes

David Hanson: 38 votes

Ian Lucas: 34 votes

Wayne David 30 votes

Huw Irranca-Davies 28 votes

Chris Leslie: 26 votes

Rob Flello: 15 votes

Mike Gapes: 12 votes

Alun Michael: 11 votes

Eric Joyce: 10 votes

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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Absolutely Fashion showed what fashion week is really like: nasty, brutish and short

With fake meetings about fake covers, the documentary gave a glimpse into the abyss at the heart of the fashion world.

London Fashion Week is the sad little sister of the one in Paris, where I once attended a Valentino couture show dressed by Gap, watched what looked like live-action anorexia nervosa at Armani and got into a fight at Chanel. Did a man wearing a lion’s head on his real head look stupid? Yes, said I. No, said the fashion ­journalist, with fury.

Fashion Week had a small elegy this year – a BBC2 documentary called Absolutely Fashion: Inside British Vogue, which was fantastically misnamed. There is nothing inside Vogue, except a vague groping for novelty, which is technically an abyss. But that did not stop the programme’s director, Richard Macer, from sitting in Vogue House for nine months, watching women smell each other’s mascara. In the way of a certain type of media, he seems to have emerged more ignorant than when he began. This is the central principle of fashion: stupefy the buyer and she will pay to be reborn as something uglier.

“He doesn’t understand fashion,” said one critic, which I think meant: “He should have licked Karl Lagerfeld’s shoes while crying about belts.” To this critic, that is understanding fashion. It is a religious hierarchy. (That no one has asked Lagerfeld what he has done to his face, and why, proves this. When I met Lagerfeld in Paris, he was behind a velvet rope. I wondered if he sleeps with it.) Macer is a sexist, suggested another critic, who seemed to think that any industry that employs women in large numbers – human surrogacy farms, for instance, or Bangladeshi textile factories, or German super-brothels – is feminist. This is the stupidest definition of feminism I have yet heard and I have fashion to thank for it.

Macer was too frightened to ask questions about exploitation, pollution or the haunting spectacle of malnourished adolescents inciting self-hatred in older females in pursuit of profit, and he is not alone. I read no insights about London Fashion Week, but I do not care about clothes. He was so cowed by his access as to be undeserving of it, and Absolutely Fashion was as much about the laziness and commercial imperatives of modern journalism as it was about fashion, from which we should expect nothing.

Macer had a tiny scoop: British Vogue learned that American Vogue was running a cover of the singer Rihanna in the same calendar month. It decided to run early and people stayed up all night anxiously repaginating. He had the opportunity to ask Anna Wintour, the editor-in-chief of the US magazine, about it, but a staffer begged him not to. So he didn’t. He segued from journalist to PR. He drank the opiate – and I understand this, because if you don’t, you won’t survive. “Come again,” Jean Paul Gaultier once told me in Paris. His meaning was: “. . . but only if you love my clothes”.

In one scene, the actor Hugh Jackman was photographed in a bathtub at Claridge’s Hotel in London. He was fully clothed and looked marginally more stupid than he does dressed as the genetically mutated wolf man Wolverine, but that is not the point. “Come and see how handsome you are, Hugh,” cooed a Vogue woman. I wouldn’t have minded Jackman preening over an image of himself in private, but this exposed a truth: some journalism is celebrity PR.

Elsewhere, Kate Moss did a shoot wearing clothes that belonged to the Rolling Stones. It was based, she said, on a well-known shoot that they once did “in exile”. She meant tax exile, which was funny.

That Vogue, which is still, at least nominally, a magazine, should devote itself to this junk is not excused by an intellectual curiosity so dulled that one executive said that New York Fashion Week had “a sort of Lego element to it”.

British Vogue is edited by Alexandra Shulman, and in the manner of print media with long-standing editors – she has been there for 24 years – it is, in essence, a cult. In this case, a passive-aggressive-ocracy. (People are always surprised to learn that magazines are tyrannies, but there it is.)

I do not know whether Shulman wanted Macer there or not, or whether she didn’t have the clout to stop it, but once he was in, she treated him with the bored derision of a woman contemplating a ball gown chewed by moths. Shulman has the face of a woman who should get out while she can. In her only revealing scene, she had to choose between two front covers. One was “artistic” because it showed Kate Moss’s knickers; the other was unthreatening because it showed only Kate Moss’s face. “My heart is never allowed to rule,” she said, and she laughed. But I think she meant it.

She lied to Macer, too, holding fake meetings about fake covers so the world would not learn that Vogue had, by its cracked standards, a huge scoop: the Duchess of Cambridge would appear on the cover of the 100th-anniversary issue in a hat.

Absolutely Fashion also taught us, had we not known, that fashion is peopled by privileged creatures who are impervious to the extent of their privilege and who are, therefore, bad journalists, because they cannot even effectively interview themselves. For instance, the photographer Mary McCartney, one of Paul’s daughters, told Macer that she had never got work because her father was a member of the Beatles.

To be oblivious to reality is essential in fashion. Everyone is equal under the skirt. Yet McCartney flourishes because of the doctrine of the age: the already prosperous are more worthy of prosperity.

Not everyone seemed so disingenuous. One woman described the search for the non-existent novelty as “exhausting”. She no longer believed in the cult.

Absolutely Fashion, if you watch it critically, is more interesting than Macer perhaps allowed himself to dream. In its way, it embodied any fashion week anywhere: nasty, brutish and short. 

This article first appeared in the 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times