I’ve been fascinated by heels since I was a kid. Once you’ve grown into a 6ft-tall woman, they are quite a statement. I railed against them in my teens because I hated my height. In my early twenties something made me get rid of my self-conscious feelings and wear them anyway. When you’re a tall woman in high heels on a night out you’re guaranteed a running commentary. But I’m so used to it now, I’ve worked out how to respond. Beyond wearing them to exercise, flat shoes rarely figure in my wardrobe. To me the platform is a lightweight version of a heel. I love the way they make you stand and the way they (quite literally) elevate an outfit. My favourites are by Terry de Havilland. I have loved de Havilland’s shoes since I was a teenager — so I couldn’t believe it when the brand approached me about collaborating on a range of heels. I bought my first pair from a charity shop in Kensington during my early years of living in London. My feet are probably going to punish me for all this later in life but I think I’ll look back and be glad for it.
Trainers are a turn-off
Short-sleeve shirts on men are bad but it’s shoes that cause me the most problems. I actually feel sorry for men where shoes are concerned, especially in summer. Sandals are a bit cringe and trainers on a man I can’t abide. Basically, I want them to walk around barefoot. I think men look better in winter: a nice pair of boots is perfect.
I left my heart in the Harlequin Shopping Centre
Last Christmas I went “proper” shopping with a friend and was reminded, in this age of scrolling for stuff online, how much I miss it. It felt like a relic from my youth, which was spent mostly in a shopping centre. I grew up in the suburbs and cannot describe how significant those meccas were to us. To the suburban teen, the local shopping centre is where you eat, where you shop, where you drink, where you meet boys. All my firsts happened at the Harlequin Shopping Centre in Watford. I’d like to do more IRL shopping. I really think it’s such an art form and a type of socialising that has gone now.
Being chic is not for me
Growing up I used to feel like you were either a chic person — a pared-back, elegant type who wore expensive things — or you were what I was in my twenties, when I was waiting to become that chic person. Back then, you would put together the nicest stuff you could get your hands on and vaguely try to express yourself. What I realised as I got into my thirties was that the neutral palettes, beautiful fabrics and simple silhouettes I once thought the epitome of grown-up style were never going to be for me. At a dinner in New York recently I couldn’t take my eyes off this one woman who was wearing a Chanel ribbon, the type you get free when you buy make-up, as a belt. She looked so cool — it was a great reminder that fashion should be about breaking rules.
You don’t need to dress for the male gaze
Ahh, the bodycon era. I leant really hard into that. I wore the scoop-back American Apparel dress, the leotards and, of course, the bandage dress that originally came from the fashion label Hervé Léger. I bought mine in Primark. I regret that era, mostly because it reminds me of a period in my life when I thought that attractiveness and sexiness depended on showing as much of your body as possible. I guess what I hate is the idea of dressing for the male gaze. We should write our own rules.
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Feminine is not a dirty word
When you’re younger you have a very specific idea of attractiveness and femininity. I was always, generally, really embarrassed by the largeness of myself. Whether it was my broadness, my tallness, my curviness, my personality, my laugh or my voice, the largeness of me always felt very anti-feminine. When you get into your twenties and now, for me, thirties, you start to realise there are lots of ways to inhabit a feminine energy. There was a point for me when suddenly my height no longer felt like anti-feminine energy, it felt like very feminine energy.
RIP Topshop
I think I speak for us all when I say, the world really, really misses Topshop. At its peak, it was the first place where that top-end designer vision intersected with high street affordability. It was the first place you could go to reach for the shelf and find the thing you had seen in the magazines. Nothing like that exists any more.
I love a trouser suit
A lesson I learnt when promoting my TV show is that the humble trouser suit is very much my safe place. I wanted to wear something that made me feel comfortable but also a bit like I’d bossed it. I was the writer, not the “talent” in this instance so I wanted to bring the actresses forward while still feeling like myself. I was literally thinking to myself what would a male showrunner wear if he was doing a BBC drama about girls in their twenties? A monochrome suit was my answer. Of course, I wore it with a pair of huge Terry de Havilland shoes. It felt so perfect. Now, it’s my default outfit for when I need to feel confident. Bella Freud makes the best trouser suits. I love the Seventies lapels and the fact that her shoulders always fit me exactly right. I go for the wide-cut trousers and unpick the hems to get the length. Theory suits are also excellent.
Stuff is stressful
Whenever I shop now I ask myself: “Do I have the intention and true desire to keep this for ever?” — this is a change in tactic from the way I used to buy clothes, the cycle of buying and selling and getting rid of stuff that was making me feel so icky. This doesn’t mean everything I buy has to be posh. I just have to really like the thing I’m buying. Expensive clothes often use the same fabrics as the high street, I find. With some expensive clothes I think the only thing you’re paying for is the designer’s vision.
My slippers are the most important things in my wardrobe
I get a surge of endorphins every morning when I slide my feet into my slippers. They’re sheepskin, bought on a holiday in Skye. The friend I was with got a sheepskin rug and I got my beloved slippers. The luxury for me was hearing directly from the man who sold them to me about the sheep they came from, the quality of the wool and how they were stitched together. Knowing the story behind them and the craftsmanship really does make me love them more.
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I like big butts and I cannot lie
The other day I was looking at a picture of Marilyn Monroe with Joe DiMaggio and thinking about the perfect wiggle dress. That’s the kind of shape I love, with plenty of extra bum and hip. I’d even put in extra padding to enhance it — like shoulder pads for your arse. I am forever searching for one of those Vivienne Westwood tutu skirts with the bustle on the back. They are impossible to track down!
You need a good jean pool
I am obsessed with good jeans. I buy Levi’s 501s or 501s slim — I have also dabbled with a style they call the Wedgie, which are great for me. They’re also cropped, which is my ideal. Topshop’s iconic skinny Baxter jeans immediately take me back to my youth. I truly believe that Baxter jeans are to our generation what the miniskirt was to the baby boomers of the Sixties. I’m apple-shaped, so when I wore them I looked like an apple with toothpicks poking out of it. Happy memories.
Dolly (Parton) for ever
Whether it’s Leslie Caron in Gigi or Lina Lamont in Singin’ in the Rain, the costuming in those old MGM films gets me every time. I love the volume, the high collars, the bustles. There’s something about clothes that say, “Yes! I am a woman” that speaks to me. In the same vein I also adore Dolly Parton — she’s so playful and unapologetic with fashion. Abba are also perennially on the mood board.
The ‘friendrobe’ is real
Sometimes I’ll meet one of my best friends for lunch and as they walk in they’ll realise they are wearing a skirt they nicked from me in 2015. We all lived together for years and a lot of clothes sharing took place. We still swap bits with each other, especially for events. I think event dressing is one of life’s great cons: the area of your wardrobe you’re supposed to spend most on gives you the least in utility. Rental seems like a good idea, but if you can just borrow from a friend and they’re willing, why wouldn’t you?
Home comforts die hard
When I came to the end of writing my novel. I realised I had been wearing the same big cardigan every day. I tend to do that. For the project I’m working on now there’s a fleece hoodie that has become my sort of writing jumper. The pandemic has changed what I wear to write; I genuinely can’t believe I used to sit at my desk all day in a pair of jeans. You’d have to go a long way to find something more comforting in life than the first few snuggly wears of a new hoodie.
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The internet has made us all dress the same
I can’t remember a time in my life when everyone looked as similar as they do now. Everyone just looks the same — I think it is probably the internet’s fault. The realisation that you get to make your own rules about what fashion and elegance are is so freeing. I love playful dressing. And that in even the most simple outfit, there will always be a part of me that will want to have something fun thrown in.
Never wear a ‘costume’ on a first date
I’m not sure there’s a method to dressing for a date beyond making sure you feel like yourself in whatever you wear — that’s what you’re bringing after all, there’s no use pretending to be someone else. In my years of dating, in which there were many seasons, I didn’t always approach it with common sense. Of course I always dressed up. If I was going more low-key, I would wear jeans with a body and then a nice blazer or loose shirt over the top. But most of the time I was wearing skirts, dresses (see bodycon!). In the winter, one of my favourite silhouettes was tight, knee-high boots and a miniskirt.
Saturday nights are still all right
I love the ritual of getting dressed up. I don’t do it very often now but that feeling of getting ready with a glass of wine in front of a mirror and venturing into the wilderness of a Saturday night is unrivalled. Something that I’m finding interesting about this half of my life, from 35 onwards, is trying to work out what a night out is now. They’re not what they used to be. I don’t want to go back to how they were, I certainly don’t want the hangovers any more, but I don’t want my whole life to be sitting in restaurants or drinking wine in people’s kitchens. I think what I need is a pub with a dancefloor! Will I dress up for that? Of course! When you sit at home at a laptop all day, the idea of getting dressed up and going out is thrilling.
Bags are for life
The first posh handbag I owned was a Mulberry Bayswater, which I saved up for in my twenties. I took it everywhere and danced around it in clubs and generally bashed it about. It collapsed in the end. I get misty-eyed over my Mulberry Alexa too, which I still use. Mulberry is really good because it does repairs, though I’m not sure that Bayswater could have been saved.
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You (still) can’t beat a good black dress
My mum always told me that if in doubt you should always wear a black dress. For me this means a really simple strappy style from Topshop that I have easily been wearing for the past 14 years. These days I wear it out with a little cardigan and some mules. It comes on holiday with me too. It’s basically an old friend.
The Dolly Alderton x Terry de Havilland collection is available from terrydehavilland.com
