Victoria Beckham, in a documentary sequel to David’s Netflix hit of 2023, was in organisation mode, and we get to pry and see her in action.

The pulsing drama of staging her brand’s Paris fashion show was already dogged by poor weather, and now it had a momentary music issue.

‘Guys, if we don’t have the music, I’ll just have to sing’.

Her self-effacing quip reminded me why I’ve liked Mrs B for a very long time.

And that tone most rhymed with her performance on an Ali G interview (aka Sacha Baron Cohen), part of the BBC’s Comic Relief: Red Nose Day in 2001. That interview was the moment I locked-in an understanding of Victoria.

In truth, she was the sidekick guest of her more famous, more admired husband. Golden Balls Beckham, talented and pretty, went strangely shy in the face of Ali G’s television send-up. It occurred to me that maybe he did not fully understand the subtext of the humour.

But his wife did, and her wit flowed.

Posh, I thought to myself, is plugged-in.

***

Victoria Adam’s fizzy hour in the bright lights, as Posh Spice, happened to be a dizzy moment in my own life, too.

It was the late 90s. I recall nite clubs blasting ‘Shake it to the left’ at the end of the night, that time when joy no longer needs to be masked by cool. In those moments, the music sounded like I felt – deliriously happy with life. The Spice Girls were a fleeting mascot of the moment.

True, Victoria was a tad grumpy, which I ascribed mostly to a belief she didn’t like her own smile. I was OK with that aesthetic judgment; we all have our not-so-good sides. Although named Posh, she was to my ears most definitely not so. She sounded like a normal English girl from a normal English comprehensive. And that was the charm of it.

***

Victoria Beckham was an average singer who became a global star; an awkward girl who became the world’s most photographed WAG; and a fashion designer of extraordinary talent.

Her story is a Disney tale, told backwards.

First came the accolades and success, and only then arrived the trials, work and suffering which would unveil worthiness.

As told by Netflix, hers is a story which juxtaposes ego and humility – a recipe which few can acknowledge, and fewer still master.

Across 143 minutes, many of the shadow parts of her character are exposed; hints that she is attention-hungry, controlling, commercially inept and deeply wounded.

Indeed, such is the headline-grabbing content of what the documentary says, it has the ring of a tabloid stitch-up – only that it is instigated by the lady who has mastered the stitch.

In life, it is not news that we each have flaws. The news comes by who controls their revelation.

***

One cannot consume this Netflix three-parter on one plane only. The viewer is aware that the story’s fabric hides a lining.

A famous woman revealing her ordinary struggles to be heard, respected and succeed. But in her effort to surface her normalcy and humanity, we are aware that the camera crew is present only because she has extraordinary fame, extraordinary power and outsized success.

The truth is oxygen-deprived in such circumstances, but we do see glimpses.

We see her genuine hurt in the face of unrelenting media derision; we see her affecting bond with her daughter, Harper; we see her insightful judgement on what people want.

This last point leads to one of the show’s most thoughtful observations.

Mrs Beckham evaluates an empty cylindrical leather pouch, as a prospective item in her beauty collection. Taking hold of it, she decodes what she is seeing. We witness a gentle and firm challenge of her colleague to review the pouch’s texture, elevate its zip, and – most of all – put something in it. No one will buy an empty pouch, goddamit.

Decidedly, Posh is plugged-in.

***

Donatella [Versace], Tom [Ford] and Anna [Wintour] are all part of Netflix’s Victoria Awakens story arc, demonstrating that exposure is the fashion industry’s invisibility cloak for envy.

Each, in their own way, either expected or hoped for the heroine’s failure, but is now willing to scatter fairy dust over her success.

The transactional cynicism of these people is the most demoralising truth of the documentary, and a reminder that Victoria may never be fully out of the woods.

***

There is something touching in Netflix’s portrayal. I felt myself rooting for Victoria. I was willing to ignore the material splendour of her life, ignore that actual financial ruin was never on the cards for her business, and acknowledge that the validation of a middle-aged woman was the limit of the documentary’s stakes.

Because none of this denies the universality of her story.

Who among us does not want the world to view us from our best angle? Which of us would pass the opportunity to tell our own story?

Bravo to the lady behind the lady, in front of the camera, in front of the world.