Jolly Good Sort, Sophie ; the World Seems to Be Overrun with Sophies. Suddenly, They're Everywhere. And As a Type They're Instantly Recognisable - Good- Looking, Likableand Distinctly High-Achieving. Mimi Spencer Investigates the Sisterhood of Sophies

Summary

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I know three. I used to know four, but one of them got married to a Wall Street banker and took her good ankles and minimal skincare routine off to Manhattan, where you don't meet many. Sophies, I mean.

London is positively littered with them. As one commentator put it, 'It seems everywhere you look, there is another Sophie, flicking shiny, well-cut hair over dandruff-free shoulders as she buys a pair of shoes from L K Bennett and a box of sushi for her working lunch while elbowing you out of the queue...' Take Sophie Raworth, the newscaster with a swishy abundance of healthy blond hair and perhaps a few too many teeth. You just know that she was schooled at posh London girls' school St Paul's (check!), grew up in the Home Counties (check!) and had pony posters on her pink bedroom walls. This I cannot check. But let's just call it a given. And she has a look in her eye a jolly suggestion of sauce, captured brilliantly by impressionist Ronni Ancona and evidenced by the story that she once clocked up an eight-hour lunch with Piers Morgan at The Ivy.

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Jolly Good Sort, Sophie ; the World Seems to Be Overrun with Sophies. Suddenly, They're Everywhere. And As a Type They're Instantly Recognisable - Good- Looking, Likableand Distinctly High-Achieving. Mimi Spencer Investigates the Sisterhood of Sophies

Yup, all good Sophies should have a mildly wild streak.

Sophie Anderton had her addictions, Sophie Dahl her anorexia, and Sophie Ellis-Bextor got pregnant at 24 by her boyfriend of just four months. But, despite the occasio...

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