Dave Benett, paparazzo turned society photographer, has asked me to meet him at Soho House on Greek Street in central London, but I am not 100 per cent sure what he looks like, so accustomed am I to seeing him with a Nikon to his face, features cast in shadow by the blitz of his flash gun. But I needn't have worried. When he arrives, there are explosions of his name from all corners. "Dave! Dave!" a man waves vigorously, another pumps his hand, a woman blows a kiss. Young actors, Benett tells me. One might be a singer, now he comes to think of it. The exchanges continue as we pass along corridors, stars with glassy complexions: "Dave!" "Dave!" "Hi!" "Hi!"
This is striking.
