I might have to temper yesterday’s denunciation of white parasols. Last night we saw Satyagraha , the Improbable/ENO production of Philip Glass’s opera about Gandhi. At one point a Mrs Alexander wields an elegant white parasol like a mighty sword to save Gandhi from the angry mob. She’s like Wonder Woman, only not quite so butch – a parasol is after all the ultimate girly accessory.

 

So I humbly acknowledge that a parasol could prove useful this summer, for fending off baddies – or the sun. As I’ve just been referred to a dermatologist to check out some sun damage, prudence seems wise.

 

That doesn’t mean I want to look like a prude. Is there a precedent for feminists to take up the parasol? In ancient Greece, the priestess of the goddess Athena carried a white parasol at the festival of Skiraphoria. Sounds promising, but how about a 21^st century example? Let me introduce you to Nintendo’s Princess Peach. She uses her parasol to fly through the air with the greatest of ease – and to kick some serious bad-guy backside. A Wii-fi heroine who’s not a bikini babe with an over-zealous plastic surgeon? Perfect.

Alas it turns out she’s also histrionic. In fact the entire game hinges on her moods – her rage literally sets her on fire. She’s often the stereotypical damsel in distress waiting to be rescued by Prince Charming (or in her case the chubby, moustachioed plumber Mario). So she’s more Cinderella with a bad case of PMT than paragon of girl power.

 

I’ll stick with Mrs Alexander as my parasol-packing pin-up. The opera was impressive, especially the visuals by Improbable, the twisted geniuses behind Shockheaded Peter. Newspapers are a recurring theme, ultimately as giant papier mâché puppets. At one point, I admit my mind did wander to the theatre’s recycling bin, which must be absolutely heaving. And after watching the performers unspool dozens of rolls of sticky tape to decorate the stage, I’ll never again chastise my daughter for her (relatively minor) overindulgence with the stuff.

 

I’ve been overindulging in sunscreen. Age spots I can do nothing about, but perhaps I might halt the rising tide of sunspots. Just glad I’m not a tanorexic – I’m happy to hide from the blazing sun. A predicted side-effect of climate change is a rising rate of skin cancers, so maybe everyone should do the same. The best advice is to cover up, but if you don’t want to sweat through summer in a polo neck, just pick up a parasol. You may even get lucky and find that the talking heads declare the pale and interesting look is ‘Going Up’ in this summer's ‘What’s Hot’ lists.