Welcome to Broad with Polly Vernon

The Tricky, Cringey, Horribly Exposing Business of Formal Introductions

My loves! Hello, and welcome, and DEAR GOD thank you for being here  but also: f**k me, I’m scared! New Things. Terrifying. Unknowable, unknown, endlessly easily screwed up.

This makes me feel exposed. Creatively - naked. I stand before you with barely my knickers on. Here’s a picture of my dog Rita, taken by my friend Jeroen, to alleviate tension.

Right. I think I’m supposed to put this in, now:

WHO AM I?

Ouf! Big question.

Ah, go on, then.

This is what I look like when I’m laughing uproariously.

And this is what I am:

A writer.

A Londoner, (though I grew up in Devon. I did have the accent, once. I lost it, or gave it away, or threw it away, who knows?)

An older sister, with all that implies.

A cohabiter with (of?): 1 bloke, 1 labradoodle, 0 kids (by choice. I mean: all of those lifestyle circumstances are by choice, obvs, but the chosen kidlessness is, I think, esp. worthy of note.)

I’m sweaty and sweary and (I would be) hairy (if I didn't remove it all scrupulously).

I adore a French Exit. Slipping away when everyone else is too drunk or too rowdy to notice - but nonetheless leaving faint trace of mystery in my wake, leaving ‘em vaguely wanting more? All tucked up in bed by midnight, make up off, Ibuprofen under my tongue, sleep mask over my eyes? Yes, please!

I have been pretty lost and I have been pretty low, and I’ve dug myself out and lifted myself up.

I’m a survivor of several attempts at cancellation.

I think about things… Not ‘too much’, no, but definitely ‘a lot’. Writing makes sense of the thinking, stops it becoming overwhelming, over-loud.

I have raging tinnitus in my left ear.

I am roughly the age you think I am. (I’m not being coy, I really would be specific, only: women are so routinely reduced to Age, when really? The year of our births might be the least revealing, least interesting, least significant thing about any of us, don’t you think?)

Fashion-fascinated, pop-lyric obsessed. Unnatural red head.

I am capable of extraordinary passion about, for example, abortion rights and this really great tinted moisturiser I just found. I have never understood why one of those extraordinary passions should serve to undermine the other.

I’m political, opinionated - but not ideological. I’m not righteous, pious, pompous or preachy. I despise righteousness, piety, pomposity and preachiness. I think they make hypocrites of anyone. Not to mention: terrible bores.

I’m a thoroughly imperfect, deeply atypical feminist. The kind of feminist certain other feminists disapprove of, deeply.

I have a fantasy side hustle producing business cards for people except, after your name, instead of announcing your professional status, they’d say things like:

‘ Surprisingly useful in a fight’

Or

‘Better when drunk’

Or

‘Quiet – but not in the shy way.’

I don’t suffer fools, and I’m soft as f**k. I’m a lightweight – cannot hold my liquor - and I will stand up for myself, and my friends, with a ferocity that surprises even me. I have a serious left hook, and I cry at TikToks of rescue dogs being brought back to life by their forever families. (I cried just typing that last bit about the dogs.)

I’ve published one book (Hot Feminist, 2015, caused an internet uproar which nearly destroyed me), am currently working on my second, on women’s bodies, due for publication in the Spring of 2025.

I’m an (ahem, multi award winning) columnist for Grazia, and an interviewer for The Times. I’ve ‘done’ Trump (he showed me how he styled his hair), I’ve ‘done’ Harry Styles (fun), I’ve zoomed Gwyneth, been for afternoon tea with Joan Collins, nearly spent Christmas in New York with Piers Morgan after Heathrow’s runways froze and our flights home were cancelled…

Here I am interviewing Spencer Matthews from Made In Chelsea, armed with an actual notebook, which I obviously didn't use. (Picture by Mark Harrison)

And here I am, interviewing my labradoodle, Rita. She’s no longer doing press so don’t ask. (Picture by Dan Kennedy).

(Sorry I’ve got a right face on in both pics, picture eds seem to prefer me dour, unsmiling and intimidating - but, like I say, I’m not. )

SO WHY SUBSTACK?

Because it feels like the Wild West of creativity! In the best way! Free and uncharted and - just slightly dangerous in that. Good dangerous! The idea of being able to write and publish what I want, when I want? Delicious! The chance to own bit of the internet? Make it mine? Build a wild place, a funny place, a furious, silly, soul shaking, heartfelt place, a place where… You know that thing about ‘If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all?’ that - only: ‘If you can’t say anything interesting, don’t say anything at all.’

And I want you to do this with me.

HOW DOES IT WORK?

I will write weekly pieces (possibly more). Trend pieces. Personal pieces. Opinion pieces on… Ah, whatever has tickled / enraged me in the news, in life, from, Harry and Meghan, to, why women are three times more likely to get migraines, via the real ethics of infidelity, to all the facial tweaks I’ve had and will be having, what works, what doesn't, what’s OK morally speaking, what isn’t. I’ll definitely talk about the trolling I’ve experienced, with particular reference to the one that nearly left me with a full-on nervo - nervous breakdown - and I’ll tell you how to survive that sort of on-line onslaught. I think it’s a basic life skill.

There will be love and there will be sex, there will be family and friendship dramas, there will be emotional and moral dilemmas because I have my fair share and, oh! I would love to hear yours. I’d love to hear your everything honestly. As I say, I want you to be part of this bit of the internet, too. I want you to come round, anytime, just let yourself in - I’ll leave a key in the usual place - and talk to me. To each other! Tell me, tell them, tell us all, what you feel, what’s hurt you and informed you and made you laugh. My first ever editor (David Spedding, with love) used to say: ‘You’re the least interesting person in any room, Polly Vernon, because you already know what you think and feel. So go and find out what everyone else thinks and feels!’, and that’s what I want from you, from our community. To know what you think, what you feel. That’s where the best stories are.

AND THE SUBSCRIPTIONS? HOW WILL THEY WORK?

Some of you will subscribe for free, and honestly? I love you for being interested enough to read me once a month. Others will pay, and you’ll get at least a post from me every week, also: recommendations for cosmetics and clothes, podcasts and telly, access to the archives, the chance to comment and speak to each other. I have held a long-term fantasy about being an agony aunt, and once I’ve settled in, I’d absolutely love to do that for paid subscribers. Paid subscribers will also get my most personal pieces, most vulnerable, most raw. I don’t do those easily or lightly, because when I go There… Oh, I really go There.

Then there’s founder members, and for you? My bit of the internet is all yours. Less: ‘I’ve left the key in the usual place’, more: ‘Move in? I think we’re ready…’. You’ll get group chats, you’ll get RL invites, you’ll get an early proof of my new book (y’know, once I’ve finished it)… That kind of thing. Again, I’m feeling my way: once I know who you are, how many you are and what works best for all of us, we’ll take it from there. I’m doing an introductory offer on subscriptions in my first month: monthly subs will be £4 as opposed to a fiver, annual will be £40, rather than £50, and founder members will be £150, rather than £250. Get it while it’s hot and relatively cheap!

So, yeah. There we are. And if this all sounds like a bit of you, then, my friend: We. Will. Vibe.

And would you look at that! I seem to be a little less scared, and a lot more excited.

PV (you may call me PV, if you wish. All my closest friends do.)

xxx