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Trinny and Susannah
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justlooking
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Deceiving appearances
CATHERINE DEVENEYScottish feature writer and arts and entertainment writer of the year
FIRST question. Trinny Woodall and Susannah Constantine, why are you so rude? On television’s What Not to Wear, Susannah yanks women’s knickers down, and Trinny’s ferocity has been known to induce tears. Their subjects might well emerge resplendent, but there’s a long road of humiliation to walk first. Why? "We are what we are," says Trinny (rather brusquely, I think). "Sometimes I get passionate and angry. I don’t see it as rudeness. It’s just very honest." In other words, Trinny and Susannah are simply the castor oil of the fashion world: ultimately good for you, but really, really hard to swallow.
Anyway, good-oh for honesty. When Trinny Woodall first walks in, I nearly fall off my chair. Has she raided Danny La Rue’s wardrobe? There’s a green eveningy-looking skirt, incongruously topped with a round-necked vest that you might wear to the beach. But it’s the chewed-off clump of green fur round her neck that is truly bizarre. Not small or regular enough for a collar, not big enough for a wrap, it sits there like the spoils of victory from a scrap with a green fox. And you know the weirdest thing of all? She carries it off.
The reason she carries it off is that Trinny has the confidence - and the bone structure - of a queen. And, like a queen, she enjoys an entrance. She whirls into the room, waving what looks like an old dishcloth. "I’ve brought you a present!" she tra-la-las excitedly to her screen partner. Magic knickers. For stomach control. Lucky old Susannah.
Off screen, Trinny and Susannah transmit very different vibes. Trinny is brittle, opinionated, slightly hoity-toity. Susannah is more mellow and self-deprecating. Both are more beautiful in the flesh. Ask them how they felt when they were once named the worst-dressed celebs and Trinny says she found it "funny". "I know I am not the worst-dressed person." If she is criticised in a newspaper when she knows she looked good, "I’ll think there’s some **** that this woman’s not dealing with."
It’s not arrogance, exactly; she admits that she makes fashion gaffes. But Trinny has that little flame of inner belief. Susannah, on the other hand, sniggers slightly and says, "I know that I can be one of the worst-dressed people, so I thought it was quite apt and they more or less got it right." Seriously? "Seriously. I find it easy to dress other women, but when it comes to myself I find it very difficult. I used to have no particular interest in clothes. Now I enjoy it more and pay much more care and attention. But I do get it wrong lots of times, and I’m like every other woman: learning from experience."
They seem certain enough on screen and in print. (Susannah once said of Princess Diana, "She wore such awful shift dresses. I wouldn’t say she was someone with innate style.") Before the interview, I watch their tapes. Never wear colour with black. Says who? Says Trinny and Susannah. Mince! Says who? Says me. And the point is that when it comes to fashion, Trinny and Susannah have no particular qualifications that make them any more worth listening to than you, me or the man who comes to read your meter. Susannah worked as a fashion PR and Trinny was a commodities broker, before they met at a dinner party and began writing fashion columns for newspapers.
Never wear colour with black, huh? I wouldn’t normally bore you with my interview garb, but it is relevant to tell you that I looked out a black trouser suit, red top, red shoes, red bag. Just to see how rude they really are. I wait patiently, but they don’t mention it - although it’s fair to say that when I do, they don’t hold back. I think your rules, such as not wearing black and colour, are totally artificial, I say.
"Obviously," says Trinny dryly.
Women wear black because they don’t know how to wear colour, she insists. "Suz and I would say from experience that if you took your red top, which is a very strong scarlet red, and teamed it with other colours in that palette..."
"Say orange," interrupts Susannah.
"Like orange," says Trinny, "or burgundy..."
They’re having a laugh, right? Red and orange? "No, it would make that red a really beautiful red, while at the moment it’s a very stark, cold red. I see your outfit before I see you. I want to see you," says Trinny earnestly. And I’m supposed to blend into the background in red and orange? In a Moroccan bordello, maybe.
Now, I’ll admit to a few fashion howlers in my time. Yes, I was that person who wore purple cord dungarees and a purple jumper, like some ghastly walking advert for Cadbury’s Dairy Milk. In my foolish youth I even wore a white zipped jumpsuit with (oh God, this would be funny if it wasn’t true) car logos on it. I looked like Noddy’s mad mechanic, escaped from the Toytown sanatorium. I still maintain, though, that my trilby and tie worked. No matter what anybody said. (And they did.)
But isn’t that the point about fashion? Trinny wouldn’t be seen dead in what I’m wearing. I wouldn’t be seen dead in what Trinny is wearing. That’s okay, isn’t it? Clothes are just fun. Or do these two seriously judge people on what they wear? "I’ll inadvertently clock everything that I think is a mistake," says Trinny, "but not in a judgemental way."
"We don’t go, ‘She’s a nasty person because she’s wearing black and red,’" adds Susannah. "We say, ‘Oh gosh, she’s wearing black and red.’" Oh gosh.
Perhaps we are just too obsessed with appearance? "In America," says Trinny, "there’s a programme called The Swan. They take 12 ugly people and call them ugly ducklings. They spend six months and have everything done - plastic surgery, teeth, everything. And then they have this moment where their family is brought in and they are revealed. It’s scary." Susannah remembers one particular contestant who had a young child. "He didn’t recognise her," she says.
"Now that," continues Trinny, "is where you would say the pressure on people to look better is taken to an extreme, and Susannah and I are very much against that. We never talk about weight on our show. We never talk about having something done, like a t*t reduction. That’s not what we are about. Simple things can help you feel better about yourself."
For them, it’s not about status; it’s about empowerment. Simple psychology: you look good - you feel good. They are not concerned with fashion, but with dressing to suit body shape. Nor do they indulge in label snobbery. "I’m on a budget at the moment," says Susannah. "I have three kids to educate and I’m trying to save up for the future, not just for now but for when I am 60. I made a decision that I am not going anywhere other than the high street this winter." Anyway, labels mean nothing. "We know very well that the cover is different from the content."
In the end that’s rather how I feel about Trinny and Susannah. There is more than the packaging. People who feel superior inside are simply unable to hide it; they answer questions, but they don’t engage. Trinny and Susannah, on the other hand, talk, listen, argue. I rather warm to them. Even if they are rude enough to tell me that my clothes suck.
THE temptation with fashion-conscious women is to ask about the influence of their mothers - the dresses they coveted in their mothers’ wardrobes, the shoes they slipped their childish feet into in imitation. But Susannah Constantine says it was not her mother who shaped her sense of style, it was her father. "He bought all my clothes as a child, and when I was going to big parties he would always come shopping with me. I would always follow his lead. Although he was a very talented businessman, he was a brilliant artist. I mean, seriously good. He was offered exhibitions all over the world, but was too modest, really, to want to do it. He should have been an interior designer. He was very artistic and had incredible taste. Whatever style I have, I learned from him."
CATHERINE DEVENEYScottish feature writer and arts and entertainment writer of the year
FIRST question. Trinny Woodall and Susannah Constantine, why are you so rude? On television’s What Not to Wear, Susannah yanks women’s knickers down, and Trinny’s ferocity has been known to induce tears. Their subjects might well emerge resplendent, but there’s a long road of humiliation to walk first. Why? "We are what we are," says Trinny (rather brusquely, I think). "Sometimes I get passionate and angry. I don’t see it as rudeness. It’s just very honest." In other words, Trinny and Susannah are simply the castor oil of the fashion world: ultimately good for you, but really, really hard to swallow.
Anyway, good-oh for honesty. When Trinny Woodall first walks in, I nearly fall off my chair. Has she raided Danny La Rue’s wardrobe? There’s a green eveningy-looking skirt, incongruously topped with a round-necked vest that you might wear to the beach. But it’s the chewed-off clump of green fur round her neck that is truly bizarre. Not small or regular enough for a collar, not big enough for a wrap, it sits there like the spoils of victory from a scrap with a green fox. And you know the weirdest thing of all? She carries it off.
The reason she carries it off is that Trinny has the confidence - and the bone structure - of a queen. And, like a queen, she enjoys an entrance. She whirls into the room, waving what looks like an old dishcloth. "I’ve brought you a present!" she tra-la-las excitedly to her screen partner. Magic knickers. For stomach control. Lucky old Susannah.
Off screen, Trinny and Susannah transmit very different vibes. Trinny is brittle, opinionated, slightly hoity-toity. Susannah is more mellow and self-deprecating. Both are more beautiful in the flesh. Ask them how they felt when they were once named the worst-dressed celebs and Trinny says she found it "funny". "I know I am not the worst-dressed person." If she is criticised in a newspaper when she knows she looked good, "I’ll think there’s some **** that this woman’s not dealing with."
It’s not arrogance, exactly; she admits that she makes fashion gaffes. But Trinny has that little flame of inner belief. Susannah, on the other hand, sniggers slightly and says, "I know that I can be one of the worst-dressed people, so I thought it was quite apt and they more or less got it right." Seriously? "Seriously. I find it easy to dress other women, but when it comes to myself I find it very difficult. I used to have no particular interest in clothes. Now I enjoy it more and pay much more care and attention. But I do get it wrong lots of times, and I’m like every other woman: learning from experience."
They seem certain enough on screen and in print. (Susannah once said of Princess Diana, "She wore such awful shift dresses. I wouldn’t say she was someone with innate style.") Before the interview, I watch their tapes. Never wear colour with black. Says who? Says Trinny and Susannah. Mince! Says who? Says me. And the point is that when it comes to fashion, Trinny and Susannah have no particular qualifications that make them any more worth listening to than you, me or the man who comes to read your meter. Susannah worked as a fashion PR and Trinny was a commodities broker, before they met at a dinner party and began writing fashion columns for newspapers.
Never wear colour with black, huh? I wouldn’t normally bore you with my interview garb, but it is relevant to tell you that I looked out a black trouser suit, red top, red shoes, red bag. Just to see how rude they really are. I wait patiently, but they don’t mention it - although it’s fair to say that when I do, they don’t hold back. I think your rules, such as not wearing black and colour, are totally artificial, I say.
"Obviously," says Trinny dryly.
Women wear black because they don’t know how to wear colour, she insists. "Suz and I would say from experience that if you took your red top, which is a very strong scarlet red, and teamed it with other colours in that palette..."
"Say orange," interrupts Susannah.
"Like orange," says Trinny, "or burgundy..."
They’re having a laugh, right? Red and orange? "No, it would make that red a really beautiful red, while at the moment it’s a very stark, cold red. I see your outfit before I see you. I want to see you," says Trinny earnestly. And I’m supposed to blend into the background in red and orange? In a Moroccan bordello, maybe.
Now, I’ll admit to a few fashion howlers in my time. Yes, I was that person who wore purple cord dungarees and a purple jumper, like some ghastly walking advert for Cadbury’s Dairy Milk. In my foolish youth I even wore a white zipped jumpsuit with (oh God, this would be funny if it wasn’t true) car logos on it. I looked like Noddy’s mad mechanic, escaped from the Toytown sanatorium. I still maintain, though, that my trilby and tie worked. No matter what anybody said. (And they did.)
But isn’t that the point about fashion? Trinny wouldn’t be seen dead in what I’m wearing. I wouldn’t be seen dead in what Trinny is wearing. That’s okay, isn’t it? Clothes are just fun. Or do these two seriously judge people on what they wear? "I’ll inadvertently clock everything that I think is a mistake," says Trinny, "but not in a judgemental way."
"We don’t go, ‘She’s a nasty person because she’s wearing black and red,’" adds Susannah. "We say, ‘Oh gosh, she’s wearing black and red.’" Oh gosh.
Perhaps we are just too obsessed with appearance? "In America," says Trinny, "there’s a programme called The Swan. They take 12 ugly people and call them ugly ducklings. They spend six months and have everything done - plastic surgery, teeth, everything. And then they have this moment where their family is brought in and they are revealed. It’s scary." Susannah remembers one particular contestant who had a young child. "He didn’t recognise her," she says.
"Now that," continues Trinny, "is where you would say the pressure on people to look better is taken to an extreme, and Susannah and I are very much against that. We never talk about weight on our show. We never talk about having something done, like a t*t reduction. That’s not what we are about. Simple things can help you feel better about yourself."
For them, it’s not about status; it’s about empowerment. Simple psychology: you look good - you feel good. They are not concerned with fashion, but with dressing to suit body shape. Nor do they indulge in label snobbery. "I’m on a budget at the moment," says Susannah. "I have three kids to educate and I’m trying to save up for the future, not just for now but for when I am 60. I made a decision that I am not going anywhere other than the high street this winter." Anyway, labels mean nothing. "We know very well that the cover is different from the content."
In the end that’s rather how I feel about Trinny and Susannah. There is more than the packaging. People who feel superior inside are simply unable to hide it; they answer questions, but they don’t engage. Trinny and Susannah, on the other hand, talk, listen, argue. I rather warm to them. Even if they are rude enough to tell me that my clothes suck.
THE temptation with fashion-conscious women is to ask about the influence of their mothers - the dresses they coveted in their mothers’ wardrobes, the shoes they slipped their childish feet into in imitation. But Susannah Constantine says it was not her mother who shaped her sense of style, it was her father. "He bought all my clothes as a child, and when I was going to big parties he would always come shopping with me. I would always follow his lead. Although he was a very talented businessman, he was a brilliant artist. I mean, seriously good. He was offered exhibitions all over the world, but was too modest, really, to want to do it. He should have been an interior designer. He was very artistic and had incredible taste. Whatever style I have, I learned from him."
justlooking
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Did she always trust his judgement? "One hundred per cent. I wish he was still alive now, because I would be asking him, as well as Trinny, what to wear."
What criteria did her father use? "Shape, showing off the figure. And simplicity as well. He thought simplicity was the art of decoration."
He bought her a vintage lace dress owned by Bianca Jagger. And when she was 22, he invested in a dress by Valentino for a special occasion. "It was beautiful. I could no more put my left leg in it than my body now. I was sitting at this very grand dinner, next to these two very important men." She laughs. I get the impression ‘important’ is an understatement. Susannah mixed in royal circles and was once Viscount Linley’s girlfriend.
"But the dress was very badly made," she goes on, "and the straps went and my boobs were laid bare at the dinner table. It was a really embarrassing moment, and this butler came in with safety-pins." She imitates him weaving between tables with a salver held high. "There was no ‘Let’s do it subtly.’ I had this very high-profile man on this side, doing that strap, and another very high-profile man on this side, doing the other. Meanwhile, I was lifting my boobs out of the soup."
So much for expensive labels. "That was Valentino! They should have f**king done a better job than that. We took it back and they were so unapologetic. If I had taken that back to Oasis, they would have given me a new dress."
They espouse high-street favourites such as Zara and Topshop. But their posh voices, their oh-so-confident manner, suggests more exclusivity. Are their lives really relevant to the lives of the women they help? When one woman suggested on camera that they weren’t, Trinny’s sharp retort reduced her to tears. But didn’t she have a point? "What we say is nothing to do with class or background," insists Trinny. "It’s one woman to another woman."
They share the same body features as other women, adds Susannah. "In our emotional lives, too, we share," continues Trinny. "There were so many instances where men didn’t compliment women. We all share it - not getting enough affirmation from your husband or boyfriend, something to make you feel good about yourself."
Susannah looks thoughtful. "You know what, Catherine? That whole class thing has changed so much. I don’t think we will be asked that question in a couple of years’ time. You look at the new people on the pedestals, the pop stars, the Posh and Becks. They come from very humble beginnings and are aspirational, and they have gone out there and done that. Those are the people who are commendable, not someone who through luck of birth has ended up in a f**king castle somewhere. I don’t think people look up to the aristocracy or rich people. So what if you live in a castle."
She speaks with passion. But a rich person is still more likely to say class doesn’t matter than a poor one. Earlier, Susannah herself had talked about broadcasters with BBC voices having more authority. "We are two posh birds," she had acknowledged. "There’s no getting away from that. Middle-class backgrounds, privately educated, we are what we are. Maybe the reason we have been successful is that our backgrounds have given us a little extra authority."
Precisely. Would we listen to Trinny and Susannah if they came from a housing estate in Slough? And yet there is no doubt that the women they dress look better. Watch them for 30 seconds and the duo can be enormously grating. Too smug, too confident, too opinionated, too much. But watch their entire programme, and their warmth and motivation emerges, their desire to make women feel good. Trinny - rather pointedly - says, "It’s also about how you choose to see people, because it’s easier for you to see them like that."
She is not, she insists, really a posh girl. "My grandfather was Scottish, born in the slums of Glasgow. He worked in the shipyards and then did that Posh and Becks thing of working really hard." He became head of British Steel.
She undoubtedly seems the more prickly, more complicated, of the two. Her father’s marriage to her mother was his second, and she was the youngest of his six children - three from each marriage. "When you are the youngest there is the mixture of wanting to be the centre of attention and feeling permanently bullied by your siblings. Your parents think, ‘We should maybe be nice to this one.’ And your siblings are, ‘Punish, punish, punish!’" She laughs, but it becomes clear that she felt she had to prove herself in her early life.
She lived in France and Germany, attending boarding-school between the ages of 12 and 15, then coming to London for the last two years of state school. (Susannah, too, was at boarding-school, and detested it so much that she would never send her own children.) "I never really had an English upbringing, and probably felt a bit of an outsider because of that," admits Trinny.
But it’s when she talks of establishing her own identity that you glimpse vulnerability beneath that clipped exterior. "I had an older sister at boarding-school and she was terribly popular, and I found that difficult. She was the star of the school and I felt really ugly and not as glamorous as her. All the girls in my school... you had this thing where, if you liked someone, you sent them a little note. They all had a crush on her, so they’d be friends with me to get to my sister. So it was a bit of a relief when she left."
Like Susannah, Trinny’s father influenced her sense of style. "My father is actually far more vain than my mother. He always loves to have everything very chic and polished and fastidious. My mother has never worn face-cream in her life. We had to force make-up on her. She has great bone structure and is a very attractive woman, but she has a total lack of vanity that comes from being Scottish with quite a strict upbringing."
While Susannah was working in the design world, Trinny was working in the City and hating it. "I wasn’t doing what I felt I should be doing, but what other people felt I should do. If you live your life like that you are never very happy." She admits that she became an alcoholic, but believes the cause was genetic rather than emotional. "I have that gene in my family. All I know is that I discovered it in time. I chose to take the positive road. I know what it is like to be in a situation where you think you might not be around for long, therefore you really re-evaluate your life." She has been dry for 14 years.
Now the mother of a one-year-old baby daughter, Trinny had difficulty conceiving and underwent fertility treatment. She became pregnant while Susannah was expecting her third child. The two get professional confidence working together, but also have a strong personal relationship. They have been through a lot together. "When we were in LA, both of us thought we were losing our babies and it was really tough," says Trinny. "We were working very hard and we were both bleeding, and if we hadn’t had each other it would have been dreadful."
They may look like they were born with silver spoons in their mouths, but that hasn’t protected them from emotional turmoil. "You know," says Susannah, "that silver spoon is only money. That’s all. It’s not anything else. And money, let me tell you... you look at all those wealthy people and it is the root of all evil. Too much money is really destructive, and silver spoon or not, we’re still human beings. We still mourn the death of a father, or have a hideous time emotionally trying to get pregnant. We are all affected in the same way."
The death of her father was a landmark for Susannah. "It happened very suddenly. One minute he was absolutely fine and the next he wasn’t there. He was on a life-support machine for two weeks." She smiles. "There’s a funny story I haven’t told before. He was wonderful, my father, in so many ways, but he was quite a snob. My sister and I were with him when he died, and the nurse came up to us and said, ‘I’m really sorry to have to say this to you, but we’re going to have to send out a press release.’ My sister and I looked at each other and said, ‘What are you talking about?’ She said, ‘Well, when King Constantine of Greece dies...’ My father would have been thrilled with that moment. It was such a fantastic way to depart."
She looks vulnerable, almost tearful. When it’s time to go, she says how lovely it has been. So interesting. Trinny, I notice, says nothing. But then Susannah described Trinny as controlling, and Trinny described Susannah as manipulative, which means they both try to get their own way, but one is just more upfront about it.
Susannah is trying hard to address my obvious problem diplomatically. She says I should go shopping before my flight. "No more red and black," she mutters, rather sorrowfully. (source: scotland on sunday, including accompanying image)
What criteria did her father use? "Shape, showing off the figure. And simplicity as well. He thought simplicity was the art of decoration."
He bought her a vintage lace dress owned by Bianca Jagger. And when she was 22, he invested in a dress by Valentino for a special occasion. "It was beautiful. I could no more put my left leg in it than my body now. I was sitting at this very grand dinner, next to these two very important men." She laughs. I get the impression ‘important’ is an understatement. Susannah mixed in royal circles and was once Viscount Linley’s girlfriend.
"But the dress was very badly made," she goes on, "and the straps went and my boobs were laid bare at the dinner table. It was a really embarrassing moment, and this butler came in with safety-pins." She imitates him weaving between tables with a salver held high. "There was no ‘Let’s do it subtly.’ I had this very high-profile man on this side, doing that strap, and another very high-profile man on this side, doing the other. Meanwhile, I was lifting my boobs out of the soup."
So much for expensive labels. "That was Valentino! They should have f**king done a better job than that. We took it back and they were so unapologetic. If I had taken that back to Oasis, they would have given me a new dress."
They espouse high-street favourites such as Zara and Topshop. But their posh voices, their oh-so-confident manner, suggests more exclusivity. Are their lives really relevant to the lives of the women they help? When one woman suggested on camera that they weren’t, Trinny’s sharp retort reduced her to tears. But didn’t she have a point? "What we say is nothing to do with class or background," insists Trinny. "It’s one woman to another woman."
They share the same body features as other women, adds Susannah. "In our emotional lives, too, we share," continues Trinny. "There were so many instances where men didn’t compliment women. We all share it - not getting enough affirmation from your husband or boyfriend, something to make you feel good about yourself."
Susannah looks thoughtful. "You know what, Catherine? That whole class thing has changed so much. I don’t think we will be asked that question in a couple of years’ time. You look at the new people on the pedestals, the pop stars, the Posh and Becks. They come from very humble beginnings and are aspirational, and they have gone out there and done that. Those are the people who are commendable, not someone who through luck of birth has ended up in a f**king castle somewhere. I don’t think people look up to the aristocracy or rich people. So what if you live in a castle."
She speaks with passion. But a rich person is still more likely to say class doesn’t matter than a poor one. Earlier, Susannah herself had talked about broadcasters with BBC voices having more authority. "We are two posh birds," she had acknowledged. "There’s no getting away from that. Middle-class backgrounds, privately educated, we are what we are. Maybe the reason we have been successful is that our backgrounds have given us a little extra authority."
Precisely. Would we listen to Trinny and Susannah if they came from a housing estate in Slough? And yet there is no doubt that the women they dress look better. Watch them for 30 seconds and the duo can be enormously grating. Too smug, too confident, too opinionated, too much. But watch their entire programme, and their warmth and motivation emerges, their desire to make women feel good. Trinny - rather pointedly - says, "It’s also about how you choose to see people, because it’s easier for you to see them like that."
She is not, she insists, really a posh girl. "My grandfather was Scottish, born in the slums of Glasgow. He worked in the shipyards and then did that Posh and Becks thing of working really hard." He became head of British Steel.
She undoubtedly seems the more prickly, more complicated, of the two. Her father’s marriage to her mother was his second, and she was the youngest of his six children - three from each marriage. "When you are the youngest there is the mixture of wanting to be the centre of attention and feeling permanently bullied by your siblings. Your parents think, ‘We should maybe be nice to this one.’ And your siblings are, ‘Punish, punish, punish!’" She laughs, but it becomes clear that she felt she had to prove herself in her early life.
She lived in France and Germany, attending boarding-school between the ages of 12 and 15, then coming to London for the last two years of state school. (Susannah, too, was at boarding-school, and detested it so much that she would never send her own children.) "I never really had an English upbringing, and probably felt a bit of an outsider because of that," admits Trinny.
But it’s when she talks of establishing her own identity that you glimpse vulnerability beneath that clipped exterior. "I had an older sister at boarding-school and she was terribly popular, and I found that difficult. She was the star of the school and I felt really ugly and not as glamorous as her. All the girls in my school... you had this thing where, if you liked someone, you sent them a little note. They all had a crush on her, so they’d be friends with me to get to my sister. So it was a bit of a relief when she left."
Like Susannah, Trinny’s father influenced her sense of style. "My father is actually far more vain than my mother. He always loves to have everything very chic and polished and fastidious. My mother has never worn face-cream in her life. We had to force make-up on her. She has great bone structure and is a very attractive woman, but she has a total lack of vanity that comes from being Scottish with quite a strict upbringing."
While Susannah was working in the design world, Trinny was working in the City and hating it. "I wasn’t doing what I felt I should be doing, but what other people felt I should do. If you live your life like that you are never very happy." She admits that she became an alcoholic, but believes the cause was genetic rather than emotional. "I have that gene in my family. All I know is that I discovered it in time. I chose to take the positive road. I know what it is like to be in a situation where you think you might not be around for long, therefore you really re-evaluate your life." She has been dry for 14 years.
Now the mother of a one-year-old baby daughter, Trinny had difficulty conceiving and underwent fertility treatment. She became pregnant while Susannah was expecting her third child. The two get professional confidence working together, but also have a strong personal relationship. They have been through a lot together. "When we were in LA, both of us thought we were losing our babies and it was really tough," says Trinny. "We were working very hard and we were both bleeding, and if we hadn’t had each other it would have been dreadful."
They may look like they were born with silver spoons in their mouths, but that hasn’t protected them from emotional turmoil. "You know," says Susannah, "that silver spoon is only money. That’s all. It’s not anything else. And money, let me tell you... you look at all those wealthy people and it is the root of all evil. Too much money is really destructive, and silver spoon or not, we’re still human beings. We still mourn the death of a father, or have a hideous time emotionally trying to get pregnant. We are all affected in the same way."
The death of her father was a landmark for Susannah. "It happened very suddenly. One minute he was absolutely fine and the next he wasn’t there. He was on a life-support machine for two weeks." She smiles. "There’s a funny story I haven’t told before. He was wonderful, my father, in so many ways, but he was quite a snob. My sister and I were with him when he died, and the nurse came up to us and said, ‘I’m really sorry to have to say this to you, but we’re going to have to send out a press release.’ My sister and I looked at each other and said, ‘What are you talking about?’ She said, ‘Well, when King Constantine of Greece dies...’ My father would have been thrilled with that moment. It was such a fantastic way to depart."
She looks vulnerable, almost tearful. When it’s time to go, she says how lovely it has been. So interesting. Trinny, I notice, says nothing. But then Susannah described Trinny as controlling, and Trinny described Susannah as manipulative, which means they both try to get their own way, but one is just more upfront about it.
Susannah is trying hard to address my obvious problem diplomatically. She says I should go shopping before my flight. "No more red and black," she mutters, rather sorrowfully. (source: scotland on sunday, including accompanying image)
justlooking
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http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/li...ews.html?in_article_id=453414&in_page_id=1773
they have a small range of their own at littlewoods (source: viewimage.com)
gmgrd.co.uk
myparkmag
i wish i could find proper images of them in outfits...
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jackieonassis
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yea there's always a lackage in photos! i love them though, so funny and totally right!
courtknee01
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I Love Trinny And Susannah! Pics So Very Welcomed!
I actually got a dress from ebay and when I got it in the post yesterday it's a Trinny and Susannah dress according to the tags - I think it's similar to what she's wearing in the pic in post #65 - it's a black lace dress with an underskirt of a gold-ish colour and it's really lovely. I bought it for may ball because I didn't have alot of money but it's the most flattering dress I've ever worn, just perfect. And well worth the £15 for a new dress w/tags. *loves ebay*
..I wouldn't wear it with leggings though.
..I wouldn't wear it with leggings though.
justlooking
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yay, thanks mnis!! I think she has that lanvin dress in deep blue too. The lanvin pumps are gorgeous and have been on my lust list for a while now.
scandinavianchic
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Trinny just has a fantastic collection of coats! Any more pics?
justlooking
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dailymail
scandinavianchic
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Thank you! 
Blanche DuBois
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Someone said over there in one of the post
that they are both boring, or wear the same combo outfits...
they are not models, they dont have to change their image like models, they have their own taste
that they are both boring, or wear the same combo outfits...
they are not models, they dont have to change their image like models, they have their own taste
