When I arrive to meet at her suite in the opulent Peninsula Paris hotel it is humming with her vast entourage: PR teams, record-company executives, make-up artists – even assistants to put on her wigs.The night before at an industry event to hear her new album, she introduced her boyfriend of a year, Alexander Edwards, a music executive four decades her junior, to the small crowd. She explained he had produced one track on the album and how thrilled she was with all the songs. The next day when I meet her, Cher is sitting under bright studio lights wearing a flamboyant red wig and a black sparkly trouser suit, and an unexpected exchange tells me straight away that this will be no bland, cold Hollywood interview. ‘I love your trousers! They’re very cool! Who are they by?’ she asks, examining my wide-legged pinstripes. ‘Oh, thank you, these are just from Cos,’ I reply.
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