How to describe Peaches Geldof, the writer? Looking back across the years I knew her, 'consistent' is probably the best word. Because the ballsy, opinionated, yet vulnerable teenager I first met in 2004, in many ways, wasn’t that different from the 25-year-old mother of two I cooked up an idea for a parenting column with at the end of last year.
Back then, as then-editor of fashion magazine ELLEgirl, I hired her as our new columnist – a stylish, articulate poster girl for what I’d dubbed the SUSSED generation. She'd burst onto the scene with some newspaper features, dissing everything in the zeitgeist from weird celebrity names (Apple Martin apparently had nothing on Peaches Honeyblossom) to why anyone would ever want to live in the country (answer: she did, eventually), and I wanted more of the same – an outspoken teen take on the issues of the day.
I had to work for it, though. Not only had I previously come up against Sir Bob when I was editor of Sugar – the biggest-selling teen mag of its day, and in his opinion, a chief perpetrator of sexualisation of young girls (I know we were giving vulnerable readers important help, advice and support), but though he liked ELLEgirl's empowering ethos, and wanted his daughter not only to develop her impressive writing skills but to learn the value of working for money, he was super-protective of Peaches. He had to vet me, then he met me, without and then with Peaches.
We had a strict commissioning agreement (the only one I've ever had, where I had to agree to more than the writer), whereby I promised to take homework and holidays into account, and a strict words-and-pictures approval process via him (I once missed a flight to Prague because he wouldn't stop ranting about a shoot he felt made her look too grown-up). But eventually, we won him (and her) over.
And boy, did Peaches deliver. Every column was well-conceived and written – if always late! – and became a media event. Whether it was the same sexualisation of teenagers argument her father had so passionately fought (she agreed with him), or raging against eating disorders, or bemoaning the manufactured 'look' of the season, every column made headlines and I often ended up on a sofa somewhere defending her (she could never appear – she was always at school).
I could never tell whether the controversy she stirred up excited her or bored her – she was typically teen-nonchalant
I could never tell whether the controversy she stirred up excited her or bored her – she was typically teen-nonchalant. But equally, she'd been brought up in a house where opinion was apparently encouraged, so she was probably used to it (I can only imagine the response if Twitter had existed then).
Of course, she wasn’t perfect, but she certainly lived the brand. She loved individual styling and customising, and found like minds in ELLEgirl’s pioneering fashion team. She brought friends into the office to rifle through the clothes rails ahead of shoots. During one memorable occasion, she kept us all waiting while she and her mates cleared up after their first house party – once she finally put in an appearance, though, she charmed us all within minutes. The readers, too, saw through the media’s portrayal of her as a bratty, publicity-hungry It Girl and embraced her as someone who was on their side, and for all her celebrity privileges (and, sadly, tragedies), was one of the sisterhood. And she, in turn, took to her leadership role with aplomb. She seemed to thrive on it.
During one memorable occasion she kept us all waiting while she and her mates cleared up after their first house party
I never imagined that, 10 years later, she would burst back onto our radars as a domesticated mum-of-two under two, beating the drum for parenting issues. Appearance-wise, little had changed – she was blonder, more grown-up but still girlish, dressed in her signature vintage style, albeit a bit more practical (baby-friendly, woollen shift dress, opaque tights and ankle boots).
As they did when she was a teenager, the words tumbled out one after the other, with scant regard for breath or how others perceived them in her column for Mother & Baby magazine. She wrote with the same urgency to communicate her message, as always, yet with a newly-sophisticated polish (if the predictable lateness).
But now, she wasn’t talking about fashion, bands or teen angst, but babies. Stories about her ‘fat little cherubs’. Funny stories. Cute stories. Theories about development, or routines, or feeding, or any one of 100 parenting methods she was reading about that week. At a long cover shoot with the boys, she was not just hands-on and loving, but had seemingly endless patience with them both. A loving husband and her children had, she said, given her ‘a sort of perfect balance’. She really seemed to believe she had ‘found her calling’.
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Picture: Getty
This article originally appeared on The Debrief.