They were a pair of sleek Stella McCartney shoes: chocolate brown, 4in
stiletto heels, size 7, original price about £300. Going for a tenner. Even
so, the scrap to own them wasn't seemly. Dannii Minogue got in first but her
feet are so teeny that her shoes are crafted by elves. Then Ronni Ancona,
the impressionist, tried them on. Nice fit. The deal seemed closed until
GMTV's Penny Smith steamed in. They looked a bit big but Penny wasn't
worried about chafing.
I watch the shoes' original owner regard the fight with wry amusement. “Have
you ever worn them?” I ask. “Yes, just once, for the British Fashion
Awards,” says Sarah Brown. “And that means they're doomed. I can't wear them
again.” There is exasperation in her voice. She clearly thinks it absurd
that she would be judged as dowdy or cheap for wearing the same distinctive
heels twice.
Yet she is not only the Prime Minister's wife but a successful PR. She knows
that she must avoid perceptions of Cherie-style excess, while on her right
flank is Samantha Cameron - effortlessly chic whether in Topshop or
Temperley, and responsible for a Tory surge among young women voters.
Although spending time with Sarah Brown you conclude only that, if she were
willing to raise her public profile, she would be her husband's best
electoral asset. We are at Good Housekeeping magazine's celebrity
accessories swap, held at the North London home of Kathy Lette, the punning
Aussie author. The idea is to bring along a few items that you have seldom
worn. You then trade your old handbags or heels and, for each swap, pay £10
to the Macmillan Cancer Support charity.
From careful study of Grazia magazine I have learnt that pantechnicons of free
Manolos and Gucci clutch bags unload on famous doorsteps every day. So
they're sure to bring great stuff to swap. But with what? Looking through my
few trophy purchases, it becomes clear that nothing will do. Not my pink
Jimmy Choos (mysteriously muddy) or my Prada bag (my only decent one).
Fortunately the Times fashion department donates a pair of neon-lime Gina
stilettos and a funky fake leopard-skin purse. So I can hold my own with the
likes of Dannii Minogue, Fay Weldon, Ruby Wax and Lynda La Plante, Kathy
Lette's eclectic gang of gal pals. I arrive at her Hampstead home in flat
shoes - terrifed by a bossy e-mail not to wear heels and imperil her new
wooden floors - to find the house bursting with celebrity ladies and
slightly hysterical stylists. The atmosphere is exhausting: too many egos in
too small a space. Mrs Brown is still on her way. But Lynda La Plante is
wearing rollers in the garden, Ronni Ancona is being manicured and primped
by three make-up artists, Penny Smith is eating the whole serving bowl of
broccoli salad. June Sarpong is enjoying an amazing pistachio halva
ice-cream, watched by Ruby Wax, who asks everyone: “Is it good? Is it
amazing?” but recoils when I suggest that she has a spoonful. “I have no
self-control. I would eat the whole lot.”
I ask Kathy Lette what she plans to swap and, snapping into character, she
says: “My husband.” She'd like to trade the QC Geoffrey Robertson for Penny
Smith's bloke but actually she is donating a strange Moschino bag shaped
like a milk carton.
Penny Smith has brought several rings by the designer Dinny Hall “which only
fitted me on the one day I bought them. Now my fingers have grown
mysteriously fatter”, and some dangly earrings: “My neck isn't long enough
to wear them. I keep wondering what's brushing against my shoulder.” June
Sarpong has a lovely gold Egyptian-style bracelet and has her eye on the
Times fake-fur purse. I'm hoping that we can do business.
Out in the garden is Dannii Minogue. Tiny and Bambi-eyed, with glossy black
hair, she resembles a depraved Disney princess. She has brought along a
Louis Vuitton bag - one of many freebies that clutter her Melbourne and
London homes - and a pair of electric blue leather gloves.Did she and Kylie
ever steal each other's clothes? “Well, she goes for soft, muted colours,
girlie, art deco things. I'm more into bold, bright, full-on colours and I
used to be tomboy. But we used to fight over stuff - when we shared a
bedroom we put a line down the middle with Scotch tape.”
Ronni Ancona, who has just had her second baby and moved house and is
therefore forgivably ditzy, has simply brought everything from an unpacked
box marked “accessories”. A Stella McCartney dress, a beaded belt, a black
scarf, Jigsaw shoes ... “I'm worried it's too much,” she says in her
baby-doll voice. “I mean, it's half my stuff. I might try to sneak a few
things back.”
Meanwhile Wax and La Plante are trading high-level celebrity chit-chat. Ruby
asks after Lynda's house in the Hamptons in the manner of one fishing for an
invitation. Lynda has brought stacks of swaps including Yves St Laurent and
Circa Joan & David shoes, and a designer handbag. Ruby, for reasons that
she won't explain, has brought nothing. When the photoshoot begins she is
asked to hold a random pair of pink slingbacks.
Baroness Kennedy has just arrived from court. She is quite a funky dresser,
with a Carrie Bradshaw-esque corsage and a pair of foxy red wedge shoes. Her
swap is a pair of black, sequined Comme des Garçons plimsolls.
Fay Weldon, the novelist, has brought several scarves, since that is what her
family buy her for every birthday and Christmas. Even though she never wears
scarves. “I've never learnt to tie one. I do like looking in my scarf
drawer, however - they are beautiful.” I suggest that she drapes a few over
furniture, but she protests that they would get covered in dog hairs. “I am
not good at self-adornment,” she sighs, describing her favourite silver
necklace of three entwined figures. “Only recently did I realise they were
all having sex. In a threesome. I haven't worn it since.”
At that moment, Sarah Brown arrives. Accompanied by a huge and terrifying
woman minder, she is dressed too heavily for the warm weather, in thick
tights and a navy woollen cardigan. As she has never given an interview, she
looks watchfully at my notebook and winces every time I write. Her thick
auburn hair is already blow-dried, so she can avoid the fussings of the
half-dozen stylists. Her minder takes the make-up artist aside and asks her
not to spray products near Sarah as they are damaging to the Browns' younger
son, Fraser, who has cystic fibrosis.
Over her years as political consort she seems to have gained confidence,
overcome the natural reserve that could at times make her seem cool, even
frosty. And lately she has taken herself out of purdah attending book
launches for Penny Smith and Celia Walden, whose boyfriend Piers Morgan,
Sarah counts as a loyal friend. Those close to her say that she can find
political life and Downing Street claustrophobic. And the No 10 flat,
although bigger than Cherie made out in her memoirs, is confining and stuffy
as windows cannot be opened for security reasons. Little wonder Sarah is
breaking out alone this summer, braving the cameras and having fun. Today
her calm, unhurried manner dampens down the craziness, as the celebs who
won't listen or shut up, are herded into position and attacked with
last-minute lip wands. When asked by the photographer to ham it up, to
pretend to fight with Kathy Lette over a shoe, Sarah plays along, but her
shrewd feline eyes hold a look of irony and bemusement that say: “OK, if
this is really what you want . . .”Besides the Stella McCartney heels she
has brought along a couple of handbags - a mustard canvas-and-leather number
by the mid-priced designer Etienne Aigner and a cream, patent Marks &
Spencer tote. The choice seems to sum up the essential British first lady
dilemma. Unlike her French or US counterparts, who are expected to wear the
best, our Prime Minister's wife must not appear too grand, yet not look a
fright. But even when steering a middle course, she can't win. When Sarah
Brown chose to wear a £300 Jaeger jacket to meet Carla Bruni, who was
dripping in Dior, she was castigated as boring and safe.
She says of the M&S bag: “I bought it for our trip to India but I didn't
use it because, as usual, you end up not carrying anything.” So has the need
to attend formal functions meant her acquiring a lot of accessories (Cherie
Blair told me that she left No 10 owning 15 hats)? “Yes, quite a lot.” Do
designers send her things to wear? “Well, we don't accept them,” she says
briskly, “otherwise we'd have to declare them as gifts.”
How did she deal with the unenviable prospect of dressing to meet Carla Bruni?
“Well, I didn't stand a chance, did I?” she says with a shrug and a smile.
“I mean, I was standing next to a supermodel. I thought that whatever I wore
didn't matter. With all due respect to myself, I knew that day I couldn't
win. But anyway, it was for a brilliant cause [the White Ribbon Alliance,
which campaigns for safer childbirth in the developing world].”
How does she feel about being perpetually judged on her clothes? “I try not to
worry about it. I like fashionable clothes and I try to wear British
designers as much as possible, but I try not to take too much notice. How
can I?”
At this point the bunfight begins as the celeb accessories are heaped into a
pile and there is a genuine scramble. June Sarpong takes the Times purse and
I try to move in for her bangle. But no, here comes Grabbii Minogue, who
shoves it on her wrist. “I collect them!” she declares, then moves in on
Ronni's Stella McCartney dress, which hangs off her fairy frame like a
shroud.
Sarah Brown tries on - then rejects - the Times green Ginas. As the dust
clears, Kathy has a Fay Weldon scarf, Lynda takes Dannii's blue gloves. Ruby
gets Baroness Kennedy's sparkly pumps. And Fay acquires another scarf, a
gold diaphanous one that Ronni uses when impersonating Liz Hurley: “I do her
in a bikini, but because I lack her figure I cover up with this.”
Sarah Brown takes Penny's Dinny Hall rings, which gives Ms Smith leverage
against Ronni over Sarah's Stella McCartney shoes. Ancona, who has given
most yet received nothing, is miffed: “Penny is using the ‘I've known Sarah
for 20 years' card,” she says. A deal is brokered - “I'm taking them, but
Ronni gets visitation rights” - as their original owner and her minder
depart in the official car.
The Great Accessories Swap is a nationwide event organised by Good
Housekeeping to raise money for the UK charity Cancer Backup, as part of
the National Magazine Company's 30 Days of Fashion and Beauty festival. For
full details read the September issue of Good Housekeeping magazine,
out August 4, or go to: 30daysoffashionandbeauty.co.uk
