Pop, decoded.

The top tier of fame, a phrase dictionaries date to 1935 and that one Hollywood guide tried to measure on a scale of 1 to 100.

The thank-you delivered with trophy in hand, now capped at 45 seconds at the Oscars, a limit a marathon from 1943 helped inspire.

The party after the party, where the guest list gets shorter and the stories get longer.

A second self a performer slips into on stage, from Ziggy Stardust to Sasha Fierce, and usually retires with great ceremony.

The Italian early-evening ritual of a drink and a nibble before dinner, built on a word that literally means opening.

The sticker or laminate that opens the doors behind the stage, with a strict hierarchy that ends at Access All Areas.

Sunbeds, lunch and music on the sand. The Riviera's most famous one began by feeding a film crew on Pampelonne beach in 1955.

Berlin's techno temple in a former power plant, where a sticker hides the phone camera and a German court once declared it culture.

The DJ sets streamed online with the crowd right behind the decks, born from a webcam taped to a wall in east London.

Champagne delivered like a birthday cake, sparklers included: the club ritual where the show is the bottle, not the drink.

Breakfast and lunch fused into one late, leisurely meal, proposed in 1895 as a kindness to people who had been out on Saturday night.

A temporary city in the Nevada desert where money is frowned upon, gifts are the currency and a giant wooden figure goes up in flames.

A brief appearance by a famous face, named after a small carved gem and turned into a running game by Alfred Hitchcock.

The Riviera film festival with 24 red-carpeted steps, a famously strict dress code and, since 2018, a firm frown at selfies.

A small, tightly edited range released for a limited time, often with a guest name attached, and often gone before the window display is finished.

A cook famous enough to be recognised without the apron, a species that first appeared on British television in 1937.

Famous for something else, now behind the decks: the actor, model or athlete whose DJ set draws more phones than dancers.

Wine sold with a famous name on the label. Francis Ford Coppola got there early, buying a Napa estate in 1975 with Godfather money.

The podium habit of spraying the bubbly rather than drinking it, started by Dan Gurney at Le Mans in 1967.

The table closest to the kitchen, where diners get a front-row view of the stoves, and the title of a Netflix series that made chefs into film stars.

The last night of a club's summer, part graduation ball and part farewell tour, with longer hugs than any other night of the year.

The desert festival in California that doubles as a fashion week, born in 1999 and now spread over two identical weekends.

When a famous designer and a high-street chain join forces for one release, and the queue forms long before anyone unlocks the doors.

The triumphant return after a quiet spell, a genre Elvis perfected in black leather on NBC in December 1968.

The person who decides what a fashion house looks like each season, from the clothes to the adverts, and who takes the final bow on the runway.

Being passed over a crowd on raised hands: a rock tradition with hazy origins, and one that many venues simply ban.

A song that fills the floor from the first bars, often made a hit by clubs long before radio caught up.

The formula where the table and the dance floor share a room, perfected in 1990s Paris under a four-metre Buddha.

A sphere of tiny mirrors that has scattered light over dancefloors since long before disco, and once had its own capital city.

Italian for goddess, first given to opera's leading ladies and now to any star who makes an entrance and expects applause.

The annual fan vote that names the world's number one DJ, loved by mainstage stars and loudly ignored by everyone else.

A recurring booking at one club for a whole season or more: the DJ's version of a permanent address.

The set of rules on what to wear to get in. Royal Ascot has some of the most precise ones, down to the width of a hat.

A limited release that lands at an announced time and sells out almost at once, turning shopping into a weekly test of speed.

A cheaper look-alike of a famous product, proudly shared online; one brand replied by swapping the dupes for the real thing.

Ticket prices that rise and fall with demand, an airline trick that met concert fans and caused a national argument.

An Emmy, a Grammy, an Oscar and a Tony won by the same person, a grand slam so rare that only about two dozen people hold one.

The extra songs after the fake goodbye, named with a French word that the French themselves never shout.

The coffee cocktail born in 1980s Soho, when a customer asked a London bartender for a drink to wake her up.

The annual song contest where Europe votes, argues about key changes and once watched a conductor dressed as Napoleon.

An organised band of devoted admirers, once run by post and rewarded, in The Beatles' case, with a Christmas record.

The last tour ever, announced with great emotion and, in rock history, frequently followed by another last tour.

The few frantic days each season when a city's designers show their next collections and every taxi seems booked by someone dressed in black.

Outfits chosen to survive mud, sun and a long walk to the main stage, ideally while looking effortless in every photograph.

Brief, sudden celebrity, credited to Andy Warhol, although the line he supposedly coined in 1968 may not have been his.

The seats nearest the catwalk, where a fashion show's real hierarchy is drawn up on paper with coloured stickers.

The festival on a Somerset dairy farm that began with one-pound tickets and free milk, and still takes a year off for the cows.

The waiting room for performers and TV guests, named after a colour nobody can explain and often not even painted green.

The magic list at the door: free entry for the useful, the famous and the friends, envied by everyone else in the queue.

Hand-made, made-to-measure fashion from Paris, and a legally protected title: in France nobody may simply decide their dresses are haute couture.

A Balearic island famous for sunsets and all-night clubs, which also happens to be a UNESCO World Heritage site.

The handbag everyone wants in a given season; the most famous of all was, by its namesake's own account, sketched in mid-air.

The young woman everyone suddenly wants to watch, named after the mysterious It that made Clara Bow a star in 1927.

The traditional final stop of a European night out, owed in large part to a 1972 food stall in West Berlin.

A long run of shows in one Las Vegas theatre, where the star stays put and the fans do the flying.

The slice that rescues the end of the evening. Its most famous origin story, the queen and the Margherita, is probably a legend.

Mouthing the words to a recording instead of singing live: once a backstage secret, now an entire television genre.

The simple black dress that works almost anywhere; Vogue first compared it to a Ford car, because it was meant for everyone.

The urge to cover clothes and bags in a brand's initials, a habit that began, ironically, as a way to stop the copycats.

Someone who resembles a star closely enough to turn heads, a pastime revived in 2024 by a crowded contest in a New York park.

The label that turned Italian craftsmanship into a global brand, launched by a fashion show held in a private villa in Florence in 1951.

Fashion's most exclusive dinner, born in 1948 as a fifty-dollar midnight supper and now famous for its themes and its phone ban.

The most coveted star in cooking was invented by a tyre company that wanted people to drive further for dinner.

A grand title for a bartender that began life in 1856 as a joke, then came back in the 1980s and never left.

The person a designer pictures while sketching; fashion's best-known muse friendship began with a mix-up over which Hepburn was coming.

A Milanese twist on the Negroni with sparkling wine instead of gin, whose name means wrong and which went viral thanks to a TV star in 2022.

A star with famous parents, slang that took over the internet in 2022 and landed on Collins's word-of-the-year shortlist.

A club rule that puts a sticker on the phone camera so the night is lived on the dancefloor rather than on a screen.

The Japanese way of saying the chef decides. Even a US president went along with it in a Tokyo basement.

The artist who plays before the headliner to a crowd still queuing for drinks: a launch pad, and a lesson in humility.

The unofficial goody bag for Oscar nominees, packed with luxury trips and treats, which winners and losers alike take home.

Two red cherries that turned a Balearic farmhouse club into a worldwide logo, printed on everything from T-shirts to beach towels.

One shade picked each year by Pantone to sum up the mood of the moment; the very first, for 2000, was a millennium blue called Cerulean.

The photographers who chase famous faces, named after a fictional snapper in Fellini's La Dolce Vita.

Thousands of smartphone lights raised during a slow song, the heirs of lighters and of a rainy evening at Woodstock.

A restaurant that opens for a few weeks and then vanishes, which is exactly why everyone suddenly needs a table.

French for ready-to-wear: clothes made in standard sizes and sold off the rail, yet shown on the runway with all the drama of couture.

The person who gets a star into the papers, or keeps them out, though in 1792 the word meant an expert in international law.

Very expensive clothes designed to look like nothing much, recognisable mainly to people who own the same cashmere.

The crimson strip outside every premiere, a tradition so old that its first known appearance is in a Greek tragedy.

The backstage wish list in a performer's contract, where the snacks get the headlines and the safety clauses do the real work.

Italy's Adriatic playground around Rimini and Riccione: beach by day, aperitivo at dusk, clubs in the hills until sunrise.

The touring crew member who lugs, builds and tunes everything, and occasionally graduates to stardom.

A bar on top of a building, where the view is part of the price. One in Bangkok even has a cocktail named after a film.

A gig played on top of a building, free to anyone in earshot and, by tradition, a surprise to the neighbours.

The long, narrow stage where models walk a collection past the front row; it began as a theatrical parade in a London showroom.

Italy's national song festival, which began as background music for a casino dinner and became a winter obsession.

The 1977 disco film that put John Travolta in a white suit, inspired by a magazine article whose author later admitted he had made it up.

The heaviest fashion magazine issue of the year, crammed with autumn collections and adverts; one Vogue edition ran to 916 pages.

The running order of a show, taped to the stage floor and later fought over, logged and analysed by fans like sacred scripture.

A romance that blooms on a stage or a reality set, a word theatre reviewers were already using in 1999.

The one drink a bar, hotel or wedding wants to be remembered for. Venice's Harry's Bar set the bar high with the Bellini.

A collector who knows release dates by heart, keeps every box and may own pairs that have never touched a pavement.

Hinting at a new romance online with a stray hand or an anonymous foot, a trick borrowed from the jargon of product releases.

The afternoon rehearsal in an empty venue, usually a chore for the band and, for a few lucky ticket holders, a secret extra gig.

A hidden bar behind an unmarked door, born in the Prohibition era and now recreated, minus the raids, with a password and a bookcase.

Northern Italy's orange-tinted early-evening drink, named after a German word for a splash and finished with a slice of orange.

A tour played in football and baseball grounds, born amid Beatlemania screams and now measured in billions.

The name a performer works under, sometimes chosen for style and sometimes because a rulebook leaves no other choice.

The logo-covered backdrop behind every red-carpet pose, named after a printing technique and designed so no photo escapes the sponsor.

Fashion photographed on real people outdoors rather than on models indoors; its best-loved pioneer did his rounds by bicycle.

The Manhattan disco where the doorman was the real headliner and getting in was the whole evening's achievement.

Keeping dark glasses on after sunset, in clubs or under flashbulbs; a 1984 hit turned the habit into a chorus everybody knows.

The mini-concert in the middle of American football's final, watched by more than 100 million people and paid at union scale.

A model famous enough to be known by first name alone; the word sounds very 1990s but was already in print during the Second World War.

The DJ as headliner: the person who used to hide in the corner and now gets the poster, the pin-up shoot and the private terminal.

Once a rural American roadhouse with steaks and relish trays, now also a secret dinner in a stranger's flat. Both involve a long evening.

The famous face who walks on unannounced during someone else's show and turns an ordinary night into a legend.

A long parade of tiny courses chosen by the chef, where the bill is fixed and the only decision left is how to pace yourself.

The Manchester club with a record-label catalogue number, a name borrowed from a 1950s manifesto and Madonna on its stage.

The Belgian dance festival dressed as a fairy tale, where a castle is the stage and the ticket sale is a sport in itself.

The rolling hotel of touring life, with bunks the size of a shelf and, in Dolly Parton's case, a place in a theme park.

T-shirts, hoodies and souvenirs sold around a tour; one of rock's best-known logos earned its student designer a fee of £50.

Playing with acoustic instruments instead of electric ones, the format that made turning the volume down a huge hit.

The soft barrier that separates the inside crowd from the hopeful queue. Studio 54 turned it into a symbol of the night.

The world's oldest film festival, launched in 1932 on a hotel terrace on the Lido, with wicker chairs and no prizes at all.

Second-hand clothes old enough to count as history; the red carpet fell for them when an Oscar winner wore a gown from the archive.

A roped-off sofa with a view of the DJ and a minimum spend: the one spot in a club where people pay to be watched.

The pavement of stars along Hollywood Boulevard, where only one entertainer has collected a star in every category.

The polite name for an outfit that gives up in public, a phrase so tidy it ended up in the dictionary.