CHOSEN FEW STV star on her stylish simplicity
My house was broken into a few years ago and after the initial shock had worn off, I just began to wish they had taken more.
Possessions mean very little to me. The less, the merrier. I hate stuff and loathe clutter.
The few things that I cherish fit into a single blanket box. And I am ashamed to say I have been ruthlessly unsentimental about my two daughters’ homemade offerings over the years.
So I watched the reality TV show about the extravagant lifestyle of billionaire heiress Tamara Ecclestone in horrified fascination.
The 33-year-old’s £70million central London home has more than 100 rooms, although she confessed she did not know how many there were, as she only lives in four of them.
Her most jaw-dropping extravagance, though, is her £5million wardrobe. Or rather wardrobes. She has two dressing rooms. One for her spring/summer collection and another for her autumn/winter outfits. I was flabbergasted at this. But that’s probably because my summer wardrobe consists of a pair of shorts and some flip-flops, which can be comfortably housed in a cardboard box under the bed.
Besides, the idea of ‘seasons’ is an abstract one if you live in chilly Scotland.
I thought handbags were like umbrellas – why would you need more than one? But Tamara has hundreds, as well as rail after rail of clothes. And shoes, so many shoes. I suppose it’s some people’s idea of heaven on earth, but the thought of it all just fills me with horror.
How does Tamara decide what to wear every day? Surely there is just too much choice? I would be standing in my pants in front of it all baffled and bewildered, paralysed with indecision.
Thankfully, it’s not a problem I’m ever faced with. I have so few clothes it’s become a bit of a joke among my friends.
Choosing what to put on when I get out of bed every day is very straightforward. One small chest of drawers, a tiny section of a shared wardrobe and that’s it.
NO agonising over which one of my countless pairs of jeans to pull on, or mountains of jumpers to rummage through. I appreciate I may be unusual in the sparsity of my outfits. I know many women who have huge amounts of clothes and who love and treasure them.
They will be the ones who ‘archive’ their collections for their daughters.
My poor children will get some moth-eaten fleeces and my old wedding dress (£60 in a sale, as I kept shouting joyfully at anyone sober enough to listen at the reception).
I do not think they are going to be fighting over the spoils.
Reading The Life-Changing Art of Tidying Up, by Japanese bestselling author and lifestyle cleaning guru Marie Kondo, filled me with inspiration.
Her book is brilliant, urging readers to chuck out anything that does not bring you joy.
But I looked around and could not find anything to get rid of, as I am so ruthlessly brutal at binning stuff.
The fact that I care so little for dressing up must seem ironic to many, considering that I earn my living as a television presenter, where appearance and image is so important.
I actually have more clothes at work than I do at home.
Obviously, I make much more of an effort when I am in the studio.
But I keep it pretty simple. After all, I do not have access to a millionaire’s bank account.
If you watch Scotland Tonight you will usually find me wearing black, grey or white. And the occasional splash of red.
It used to drive the directors mad as the old set was very dark and I would disappear into the background with my muted colours.
Happily, the new set is bright blue and purple so I can stick to my muted shades.
I struggle to understand, though, why Tamara would spend thousands on Gucci and Chanel when you can get an identical look these days at a fraction of the price. Has she never heard of Zara?
My main aim is to look smart and appropriate, as most nights I am interviewing senior politicians or waxing lyrical about the economy.
I do love to wear heels to glam it up a bit, although I fear it’s only a matter of time before I fall flat on my face walking across the studio.
I thought I was playing a blinder in my Massimo Dutti jackets and leopard-print heels, until I got a letter from a viewer chastising me for dressing like I was going to a disco.
Enclosed was a clipping from this paper about Sky News anchor Kay Burley’s extensive and expensive work attire, urging me to take a leaf out of her fashion book.
Naturally, I chucked the letter out.