This week is, of course, British Fashion Week. Or as I prefer to think of it, British Famine Week. Or British Body Fascism Week.

Because what strikes me about fashion - whether it's London, Paris, New York or Milan, whether it's the spring/summer collection or the autumn/winter shows, whether its street or couture, a capsule collection or a diffusion line - is that all the people wearing it are far too thin.

Far, far too thin. I've yet to see a model anything near the normal side of slender allowed anywhere near a catwalk. And that sends a clear, powerful and very ugly message. Designers, style magazines and their allies fondly imagine that each fashion week communicates a new set of principles to guide us towards what looks good. One season it will be tartan, tweed and brown leather, another season will be all about long hem lines, mustard yellow and batwing sleeves. But these efforts to signal what is “on-trend” and “directional” are overshadowed by the central message that the fashion industry communicates - none of it is worth anything unless you're thinner than a slice of air-dried Parma ham.

I'm sure every model who takes part in fashion week is as healthy as a butcher's dog, but that's not the point. For all the women - and especially teenagers - who cannot squeeze into a size zero without either starvation or surgery, the images the fashion industry sell are invitations to self-loathing. I know that fashionistas everywhere will accuse me of narrow philistinism and missing the point of their gorgeous creations. But if they were genuinely talented they could make women of all shapes, sorts and sizes look properly gorgeous instead of just draping angular lady-boys in creations that are little more than drawings come to life.

Cry of hunger

Talking of frocks, it was, of course, the Oscar ceremony last night. People have often wondered why actresses such as Kate Winslet break down in tears on accepting their statuette when the winners of the Global Orthodontic Surgery Best Supporting Brace Prize or the East of England Home Insulation Awards manage to retain their composure in their moment of triumph. The answer, I fear, is sheer desperate hunger. Most actresses will have been starved, squeezed and pummelled into their dresses for the big night and after weeks without a proper meal any of us would be just one deep breath away from a good old cry.

In praise of Starbucks

I seldom find it a chore exploring new ways of getting sugar into my own bloodstream. Whether it's Marks & Spencer's jam sandwiches to beat the mid-afternoon blues or those extra sticky Japanese rice crackers with my pre-prandial beer, I find life goes better with a shot of glucose every few hours. Because it is difficult to mainline Creme Eggs in polite society, I have a soft spot for Starbucks. Their caramel machiattos and gingernut lattes are among the most effective ways of getting a sugar hit. Which is why I felt for their top man when he was so forcefully put down by Peter Mandelson. Howard Schultz is a hero for having designed so many beautiful ways for getting your sugar shot. And I won't stand for any of this nonsense about how his coffee doesn't taste like it does in Italy. That's what Caffe Nero is for. And besides, we wouldn't have such a choice of hot drinks that do taste of something if it wasn't for Starbucks. They drove the coffee house revolution that ensured you didn't have to live in Milan to get something worth drinking. Mind you, it's hardly surprising that Peter Mandelson is so dismissive of Starbucks. His favourite beverage is warm water with lemon peel in it. You'd get more of a kick from an exhausted dragonfly than from that concoction.

Pedant's punishment

In last week's column I wrote in praise of pedantry. The Gods, determined to mock my pretensions, made sure I included a tremendous factual howler in the midst of one of my observations. But no one has yet spotted it. Is it time we launched a National Campaign for Pedantry to encourage what I now, half in relief, half in sadness, recognise is a sadly neglected art?

Recession proofs

Always on the search for ways of making the recession bearable, can I recommend the books published in the Wordsworth Tales of Mystery & the Supernatural series? All our greatest ghost stories and tales of the uncanny are there, including macabre offerings from Elizabeth Gaskell, Wilkie Collins and Dennis Wheatley. They're not quite as terrifying as the state of the economy, but they are all superbly written and at £2.99 each they offer some qualitative easing of our economic pain.

Michael Gove is Conservative MP for Surrey Heath

Times Recommends

• A dose of defeat is just the medicine
• Protecting ourselves from Eurocreep
• After the summer of LUV, it'll still hurt