Getting Dressed: Patricia Milbourn
Patricia Milbourn, stylish hairdresser to Jackie O and Maggie Smith
Who could have guessed that the absence of hairdressers would change the whole world’s appearance? Millions went grey, blondes revealed telltale dark roots and elegant middle-aged women morphed into bag ladies…
The sigh of relief when salons reopened after lockdown was of typhoon proportions.
The queen of British hairdressing is Patricia Milbourn, now 86 and still snipping. She was the first ‘real’, posh London hairdresser I ever had an appointment with, back in the sixties. Until then, every trip to the local salon at home ended in tears, with one of us three siblings consoling the one sobbing at the mirror: ‘Don’t worry – it will grow out.’
Those were days of mouse-brown hair, perms and terrible fringes with a kiss curl arranged on either side of the forehead. And then my journalist older sister, Moira, discovered Patricia: a red-haired Welsh wonder, smiling and friendly, sharp and funny, working in Aldo Bruno, a salon in Sloane Street, London – and she changed all our lives.
Milbourn spent the war years with her grandmother in Wales, passed her 11-plus in English and Welsh, and was then sent to a grammar school in London where for five years she was teased mercilessly about her accent.
‘Not being a genius academically, I decided I wanted to a beautician and my very clever headmistress suggested the Barrett Street Technical College.’ It’s now the London School of Fashion. ‘I found I enjoyed hair more than beauty – I LOVED cutting hair and, anyway, nobody wanted a young girl to give them beauty treatments.’
Milbourn’s first job was at a grand salon, Alan Spiers, in Berkeley Square, where she stayed for seven years, learning a huge amount from her boss, ‘a wonderful cutter’. One of her clients was an aspiring young actress called Maggie Smith. They were the same age, shared the same humour and have been friends ever since. Smith followed Milbourn through the various stages of her hairdressing career: after Aldo Bruno, the Cadogan Club (her own ‘shop’), and finally to Motcomb Green in Ebury Street, Belgravia, where, until a recent back operation, she still tended certain clients – and hopes to again soon – and where she has her own hair cut, by Brian, and coloured. Milbourn is cagey about revealing clients’ names; just think of almost anyone – man or woman – in Debrett’s, Who’s Who or Burke’s Peerage in the last 50 years and the chances are that Milbourn will at some time have had her hand in their hair. The most famous of them all was Jackie Kennedy, who came whenever possible, originally recommended by her sister Lee Radziwill, who was a fan. ‘The salon had a basement which most grand clients never wanted to go down to, but Mrs Kennedy always did because it shielded her from the paparazzi – and once she’d been seen going down there, all the ladies wanted to do the same!’ Milbourn has ‘done’ countless society weddings (for which she charged a fortune, she says). ‘I always sent the mother out, so I could talk to the bride alone. I think I was a soothing influence. Husbands often said, “Thank God you were here.”’ Through her life, hairdressing has dictated what she wears: ‘Always
Tod’s shoes as they are comfortable and one is always standing, and slacks and loose tops so that I can move easily. I like Eskander – a great designer I have known for years.’
For skin care, she uses Environ. ‘It is a range made in South Africa and is very good in the sun, plus it is reasonably priced – unlike the Black Rose Cream Mask by Sisley, which I love to use as a very special treat.’ Milbourn loves walking in London but, following surgery, her exercise is currently restricted to physio twice a week.
Ten years ago, she went to India for two months with Smith, filming The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. ‘We stayed in the best hotels in Jaipur and Udaipur – it was pure heaven!’ While there, Milbourn saw another favourite client, the chic Gayatri Devi, Maharani of Jaipur.
Twice Maggie Smith asked Milbourn to go with her to the Oscars. ‘We had terrific times. It is hysterical, a bit like a cross between a coronation and a Cup Final; all those famous people everywhere. They sit the ones they think are going to win at the ends of the rows of seats, so they can get out more easily to receive their awards. I remember when Maggie won, in 1979, for California Suite, we were sitting in the middle of a row and she didn’t take it in at all… “IT’S YOU, IT’S YOU!” I was shouting.’