Face of the week: Natalia Vodianova

For as long as there have been supermodels, there have been supermodels canny enough to realise that while their youth is finite, their brand potential could be infinite, provided that they play their cards right.

Thus, Elle Macpherson has her lingerie empire, Christy Turlington has her yoga range, Cindy Crawford has her homeware line and Kate Moss is busy cashing in with Topshop.

So far, so predictable. You expect to see models endorsing clothing brands. You do not, necessarily, expect to see them presenting the Eurovision Song Contest.

So what to make of Natalia Vodianova, arguably the most exclusive model in the firmament, turning up behind a plastic lectern to take a stint hosting the Eurovision semi-final in her native Russia?

Vodianova is not just any model: she is a model whose first big job was an exclusive contract with Calvin Klein, part of an elite crack squad who can ever lay claim to having opened a Balenciaga show (I realise this sounds a bit "so what", but truly, in the fashion world, these fillips make her the modelling equivalent of Kaka).

That this beacon of cool would ever sully her hands by getting involved in Eurovision, surely the naffest franchise in the world, is unthinkable. What would Nicolas Ghesquière say? Will he ever deign to dress her again?

Well, we love her for it. While other models are busy shagging every indie band frontman that moves, Natalia is cut from a different cloth: for Eurovision, a suitably diaphanous pink one, trimmed with marabou.

Flanked by a co-host whose hairstyle makes Jonathan Ross's look butch, Vodianova acquitted herself beautifully.

So here's a thought: why not sack Graham Norton and offer Natalia the Eurovision gig full-time?

She doesn't do cheap innuendos, and is far, far easier on the eye. As a worthy successor to Terry Wogan, there can be no better.