Everybody loves Michelle Obama. That’s not my opinion, it is a fact. I know this because I have been reading her memoir, Becoming, and every time I take it out of my bag, someone tells me how much they love her – my hairdresser, who put his scissors down to stroke the glossy cover reverently, a lady next to me on the tube, almost everyone on Instagram. Two teenage girls in Starbucks, who were waiting for their toffee nut latte frappuccinos, waved at me, pointed to the book and made love-heart shapes with their hands.
As a result, you would have a better chance of catching a glimpse of Father Christmas when he comes to town this December than Michelle Obama. Tickets to her talk at the Royal Festival Hall in London sold out in moments, and she has cosy couples’ dinners with friends including the Clooneys and the Duke and Duchess of Sussex to squeeze in while she’s in the UK. And yet, you can’t miss her. Her image is everywhere. It has been two years since the end of Barack Obama’s presidency, and this is the second coming of Michelle. She is no longer a plus one. This time around, the first lady comes first.