The daughter of Don Johnson and Melanie Griffith, I imagine she spent her childhood flitting between film studios and glamorous dinner parties, making well-timed, withering remarks at all the toupés and the optic-white veneers that get normalised in Hollywood circles. Then, when taking a video team on a tour of her house, she encountered a surprise bowl of artfully arranged limes and said: “I love limes, I love them. This knowing awkwardness (combined with a bohemian fringe that belongs to some kind of How To Be A French Girl manual), has made Johnson a people’s favourite.