Leona Lewis. Photo / NZ Herald Expand

Leona Lewis. Photo / NZ Herald

Does Leona Lewis ever get fed up with being viewed as some kind of "anti-Amy Winehouse"? Maybe it is because they both attended the same performing arts school in Croydon, south London, but it seems Lewis and Winehouse are forever linked in the media eye as polar opposites. And while Winehouse doesn't exactly get an easy ride, 24-year-old Lewis is often saddled with a drippy persona quite at odds with her achievements - winning the British talent reality series, The X Factor, topping the chart with Bleeding Love in more than 30 countries, singing at Nelson Mandela's birthday concert and at the Beijing Olympics ... the list sprawls on.

Nor does this "soft" image tally with her widely publicised decision to turn down a lucrative appearance at London's Harrods department store (an animal lover and vegetarian since the age of 12, Lewis objected to its fur hall). If that doesn't grab you, she also asked Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin if he would mind changing Whole Lotta Love to suit her voice for the Beijing ceremony (I know grown men who would faint if they met Page, never mind request he amend his chord changes).

Indeed, all the evidence points to a thread of steel running through Lewis that enables her politely, but very firmly, to get to where she wants to in life. Then, of course, there is her voice - that big, beautiful, bruised, one-of-a-kind voice that convinced Clive Davis, the man who discovered Whitney Houston, to represent Lewis in America within seconds of hearing her.

The uber-vulnerable tone has become her trademark - and when I ask her where it comes from, Lewis struggles slightly to explain. "It's about the emotions in the lyrics," she says tentatively. "Just from this really raw emotional place, you know, from real stuff that I've gone through." Does it always have to feel real to her? "Yes," says Lewis, suddenly decisive. "If it's not genuine, it's a waste of time - it's not going to come across. No one is going to believe you."

We meet in a London hotel. When I arrive, Lewis is sitting on a sofa. She is young-girl stylish, rather than diva-styled, her signature caramel curls framing her long, thoughtful, pretty face. When I ask if she feels more beautiful since she became famous, she is astonished. "If anything I feel more 'ugh'. Sometimes I think I want to get 'hair and makeup' every day, but that's just not possible." On the sofa next to her is Dreams, her recently published illustrated autobiography, a kind of scribble book of informal photographs and thoughts (Lewis smiling on horseback, Lewis in hotel room, Lewis with hair in rollers, etc). She also has a new single: the bittersweet Happy. This will be followed by her second album, Echo, for which she wrote most of the tracks, flying back and forth between London and a "second home" in Los Angeles to record it.

Lewis tells me she is both excited and nervous about Echo, feeling that "everything is stepping up a level". For someone who sings so big, her speaking voice is incongruously delicate, sometimes trailing away altogether. Still, she seems assured enough, occasionally using her long, expressive hands to emphasise points. When she read through some of her old press did she recognise herself? "You mean, people saying I was shy and nervous? Yeah," smiles Lewis. "But I don't think I was that shy, I was more reserved and quiet. It's just the way I am. It takes me a while to come out of myself, and get to know people."