As a child I spent many hours in the house of a Quaker family who lived near by and had two daughters about my age. They seemed to me the perfect household. They were warm, humorous, cheerful and what’s more they had a tall, stacking cake tin system which was always full of chocolate kisses and melt-in-the mouth crisp walnut cookies. Their father was the director of a theatre that did a lot of work with young people in the community as well as being a sparkling lyricist and inventor of mildly political board games where you had to choose between busses or guns. From dawn to dusk he encouraged us to put on shows and we scarcely needed his encouragement. Every day was a concert or some
sort of fiesta. It was a bit like living with Mickey Rooney. The mother
worked with him at the theatre when she wasn’t baking and created a wonderful haven for any local children who were in need of extra parental cheer. The two sisters used to sit outside in their garden, visualising future husbands for themselves. ‘Must have blonde hair’, one would venture. ‘And be a supporter of CND’, the other would insist. I was so impressed. One day this family came into a huge amount of money following the death of a relative whom they
had not even known was rich. Little changed in their world only once when I came round to visit on a Tuesday morning in the summer holidays an enormous and elaborate strawberry cheesecake was delivered from Fortnum and Mason. Next thing I knew the mother of the house was shouting, ‘Hey Kids! Anyone fancy some cake?’ The glamour involved in this extravagant special occasion concoction being devoured in the spirit of midweek ‘just because’, has stayed with me all my life. We didn’t eat it mindlessly, we knew our great luck, and yet we weren’t dwarfed by the splendid confection. We loved it, we ate it, then it was gone and we moved on.

I have been remembering this scene over the past few days while thinking about the new Marie Antoinette film directed by Sofia Copola. The most striking development in the film and fashion world this summer, to my mind, is what Sofia Copola’s film Marie Antoinette, will do for the world of cake. A heartening comestible whose image has suffered terribly from its long term association with children and old folks, cake is set for a comeback of quivering
proportions. It is about to re-emerge as a symbol of luxury and decadence, to rival the most exquisite shoes and couture clothes and chandeliers . No-one ever associated the phrase live fast die young with cake eating (apart from in childhood obesity circles) , but in the person of Marie Antoinette these two modes of stylish existence come together perfectly. And about time too.

Drenched in lace with a crown of feathers on her head while her elegant feet are caressed by an immaculate maid in black crepe and organza, Marie Antoinette, played by Kirstin Dunst is pictured throughout the film reclining in a sea of cakes. (Don’t laugh because we’ll all be following this look come summer-I know I will.) On her right is a three tiered cream and fruit and frosting structure. On her left is an oval table on which silver and glass stands of assorted sizes and heights support ten different patisserie art works .
Marie Antoinette nestles decoratively among her confectionary-accessories. Cake, in this film, is the correct setting, the most fitting environment for the most decadent of princesses. At the end of the day, with the world disintegrating all about you, what better companion than cake? And it matters that it’s displayed in great quantities. It’s not about slices or family sized servings, we’re talking banks of cake, walls of cake. This is chateaux gateaux.

Of course it has nothing to do with cake as most of us know it, which is part of the modest saving tea time routines which make life worth living. It is certainly moons away from the stress relief or anxiety management that cake can represent for we shakier types. There’s nothing cosy about this patisserie renaissance, banish thoughts of the faithful coffee and walnut, the homely carrot, the humble rock bun, because they are irrelevant here. It is also utterly divorced from the idea of cake as ironic, yearning nod towards wholesome yesteryear values, such as truth and love . This season cake is not so much ‘naughty but nice’ but ‘beautiful and damned’. It has grandeur and stature, hauteur and (practically) froideur. Cake will emerge this summer as the pinnacle of glamour, the higher, the more ornate, the richer the better. Dazzling, vertiginous, feather-light cakes will sit on every table of note. Wedding dresses
will not look like cakes but cakes will certainly resemble crinolines. If you weekend with smart folks this summer expect a Croque-en-bouche atop your mantel, not a jar of garden roses or some modish bathing goods. Demand three tiers and Doric pillars at breakfast and no less than 6 feet of cake at night. Sign up for that course in radical sugar craft now and impress your friends no end. Make way for The Summer of Cake. I give you permission to lose you head.