I’ve only said no once – a royal client wanted a prettier giraffe flown in for a child’s birthday at the zoo
Concierge to royalty: Former maternity nurse Sarah Dixon
process — ‘We’re in a unique parenting bubble,’ says Tiffany — as is an in-depth knowledge of London’s most prestigious obstetricians. Most of Tiffany’s clients give birth at either the Kensington Wing (a private maternity ward at Chelsea and Westminster Hospital), the £7,500-a-night Lindo Wing in St Mary’s Hospital where the Duchess of Cambridge gave birth to Prince George, or London’s private Portland Hospital. ‘Yes, it costs a fortune, but it’s like a five-star hotel,’ says Tiffany, who will prepare each client’s hospital bag weeks before the due date, often putting it in the boot of their car to be sure it’s not forgotten amid the drama of contractions. ‘Some of these obstetricians hand their number to my clients and tell them to call whenever they want.’
For one ‘very glamorous’ client who worked in fashion, Tiffany commissioned a designer to create a long blue nightgown to wear after her elective C-section, and booked a make-up artist, hair stylist and photographer for a photoshoot with her newborn immediately afterwards.
Tiffany, whose book about her role will be published next year, is at pains to stress that ‘normal’ mums can afford her, too, via shorter consultations she has started conducting online.
One such mother is Jaime Baxter, 34, a complaints manager for a bank who last month paid £45 for a 40-minute, one-on-one call.
Jaime, from Rainham, Kent, sought advice on bottle-feeding after antenatal classes had made her feel like ‘the worst mother in the world because I didn’t want the pressure of breastfeeding’.
Jaime, who gave birth to son Louis ten days ago, recalls: ‘Tiffany gave me information about the best bottles and her research on formula milk. She made me feel I wasn’t alone. I’ve got good family support, but would approach her again for other key stages such as weaning. If you’re paying for peace of mind, it’s worth it.’
Concierge Sarah Dixon, however, offers no such services for civilian mums-to-be. She’s too busy packing £25,000 hospital bags for royalty or ensuring that there is the correct power source on a superyacht for her client’s breast pump.
A mummy concierge for some of the world’s wealthiest women for the past ten years, many of whom are Middle Eastern royalty, Sarah says ‘saying no is not an option’ — although she recalls one occasion when she put her foot down.
A client told her a giraffe they spotted during a trip to London Zoo — where they planned to rent rooms in order to throw an exclusive party for their child — wasn’t ‘pretty’ enough for their precious six and eight-year-olds and requested she fly in another from their Saudi Arabian palace zoo.
‘I said I’d work on it,’ recalls Sarah. ‘But ultimately, it was a moral issue. Flying in an animal for a child’s birthday party was not going to work for me.’
A former maternity nurse for royals and celebrities, Sarah, 38, set up her concierge business, Mini Me And Luxury, after she was kept on following a stint as a maternity nurse with a globetrotting royal family in the Middle East.
Although the family travelled with a staff of 70, Sarah says ‘there actually wasn’t anyone to do the concierge role’ — which, in truth, sounds like a logistical nightmare.
‘At London Zoo, we’d have to hire a suite and get our own chefs in for security reasons,’ says Sarah, from Northampton, whose clients have ‘business interests’ rather than day-jobs, ‘huge amounts of disposable income’ and fly her between their multiple homes by private jet.
She won’t take on more than 20 clients at a time (‘They are very demanding’). Nor will she disclose how much she is paid, quoting her price ‘on application’. She concedes, however, that maternity concierges can earn six-figures.
Which perhaps isn’t surprising, given the amount her clients spend on baby clothes alone. Sarah knows the baby ranges at all the larger fashion houses, from Dior to Moschino, and everything has to be the latest season.
‘Each designer vest probably costs £70 upwards. Baby outfits can cost £500. We have to buy everything before the birth in “newborn” and “0-3 months”, too, just in case, because we don’t know the size of the baby.’
WITH items commonly requested including £1,500 cashmere swaddles, the price of her clients’ hospital bags alone comes to ‘an easy £25,000’. Kitting out the nursery with designer cots and furniture (often in multiples, so a version can go in every home) can cost £250,000.
Compared to which, the £8,000odd for membership to exclusive private children’s clubs such as Purple Dragon and Maggie & Rose, which Sarah often acquires for her clients before their babies are born, is small change.
‘Parents feel if their nannies take the children to a private club, they’ll be with a certain demographic,’ says Sarah, who adds that while it’s often wealthy daddies who determine which elite school a child attends — ‘each family will have a clear indication of schooling from the father’s side, which I know sounds incredibly sexist’ – she is tasked with finding ‘the correct tutors. Lots of my babies are brought up trilingual.’
Baby showers are held at London hotels such as The Ritz and the Mandarin Oriental, where Sarah says throwing a bash, including hiring a suite, staffing and catering, costs around £250,000.
She typically spends £2,000 each on gift bags for children’s parties — even if all the ‘guests’ are newborns. ‘I’d probably put in a £550 Fendi teddy bear or a Dior bunny rabbit for £250 and some bespoke teething products,’ says Sarah.
Does Sarah, herself mother to a seven-year-old son, worry she’s encouraging hordes of spoilt brats? ‘This is all they know, and it’s how they’re going to live the rest of their lives,’ she says.
As for her new-mum clients, she says they can be subject to baby blues and still call her in tears: ‘I tell them the feeling is normal. You can have all the money in the world, but you’re still human.’
At such an intensely personal time, lines between mummy concierge and pregnant client are invariably blurred — and perhaps never so much as when Judy Goldberg ended up acting as birthing partner for one of her clients.
‘Her husband had broken his leg. She was going to be induced and asked me to be with her for support,’ recalls Judy, 36, from London, a former French teacher who set up her concierge company Babynizer after her second child, Eitan, was born six years ago. ‘She felt comfortable with me.’
Judy, married to Michael, 39, who runs a chauffeur company, is also mum to Noa, eight, and is pregnant with their third child. She says most of her career-orientated clients in law or finance contact her because they don’t have time to plan things themselves. ‘They are working until the end of their pregnancy and there is too much to get organised,’ she says.
But what of the husbands? Surely, they’re capable of researching buggies? Aside from the fact they’re often too busy, Judy claims they lack the ‘intuition’ a woman like her can offer: ‘Ask what baby bath they should have, and they’re completely lost.’
Her most stressful job was working for the wife of a businessman, who contacted her a fortnight before her due date. Judy recalls: ‘She said: “I need you now.” She had just moved to London and the following day went into labour.’
Judy had 24 hours to set up the nursery and spend £15,000 on ‘essentials’ including a £3,000 Aston Martin buggy and £2,000 designer rocking chair. ‘I set up the nursery while she was in hospital, then went to meet her at the Portland with her car seat and baby clothes.’
Judy — who charges £50-£60 an hour — has been known to send a chauffeur to clients’ homes with a ‘craving buffet’ — emergency supplies of specially requested food to satisfy pregnancy cravings. She’s also booked clients a top-of-therange Mercedes S-Class to take them to hospital. ‘They want to arrive in a nice car,’ she explains.
But she stresses that her services are not out of reach to ordinary mums: ‘We have very wealthy clients but it is accessible for the middle-class. A simple two-hour consultation would help enormously and cost £100.’
Indeed, due to give birth to her third child next week, she admits she would hire herself if she could: ‘I wish I had someone to take the pressure away.’