SO, after several false starts, one possibly prosthetic bump and a whole lot of Kelly Rowlandisms later, Beyonce’s had her baby. Her Bey-by. Her Destiny’s Child. Jay-Z’s done a song and everything!
And in true enigmatic megastar style, even the name was confusing to the last.
“She’s called Ivy Blue!” “Ooh!” “No, wait. She’s called Blue Ivy.” “Ew.”
Naturally, it’s not my place to cast judgement on someone’s choice of name for their offspring – after all, if you’ve done something as astonishing as grow another human in your uterus then give birth, you’ve earned the right to call it whatever you please. You’re probably so drugged-up and shattered you think you love the first word you come across. “We’ll call her Pot Plant,” you sigh woozily. “Beautiful little Pot Plant Nightstand York Fruits Carter”. Mine might end up being called HOORAH IT’S OUT Bravo.
But all this aside… Beyonce, we really expected better of you. After all, you’re one of the most dynamic creative forces of our time. You’re the genius who bought us Crazy in Love. You moved booty-shaking into realms previously thought beyond the limits of human capability. You’re Sasha Fierce. And you’ve given your kid a name that sounds like a dismal affliction on Gardeners’ Question Time.
Ivy Blue we could have let her have without too much protest. Ivy, of course, fits unexpectedly but pleasantly into the current fad for Great Grandmother names; Ivy, Olive, Edith, Ethel, Ada, etc. (Primary school registers in five years will read like a tea dance from the late 80s), while Blue as a middle name has just enough bonkers popstar kudos to mark her out from the Normals, and makes it sound a bit like a nursery rhyme character. Little Ivy Blue/ just didn’t know what to do/ She wore some bling/ and learned to sing/ and had an album out by the age of two.
But Blue Ivy is wrong on so many counts. It’s reminiscent of a comic book villain, or an unfortunate rash. It doesn’t scan well, which for parents who’ve made a career out of being rhythmic is a proper letdown – everyone knows the second name should have fewer syllables than the first. Blue is apparently Jay-Z’s favourite colour, but that’s hardly an excuse. My favourite biscuit is a custard cream, but I wouldn’t call my daughter it.
Other key associations include Blu Cantrell (she sang that song you hated in 2003) and Blue Daba De Daba Di (that song you hated in 1999). Perhaps they’ve chosen it as an exercise in reverse psychology, hoping that Blue will go through life relentlessly chipper, while Sunshine Yellow Carter might have been a human version of Eyeore. Perhaps.
But I’ll cease whingeing now, because we all know that in a few months it’ll sound completely normal to us. Like Harper Seven has managed to. Like Girls Aloud did, several months after we all declared it appalling. Like, frankly, “Beyonce” does now. So I’ll shut up and raise a glass to little baby Blue.
It’s a WKD blue, though, naturally.