At Home With The Ecclestones

Tamara and Petra have swapped life in the fast lane for family time. But, finds Hattie Crisell, they still know how to turn on the glitz – and then some…

- Hattie Crisell

I AM STANDING IN WHAT, for a certain kind of woman, could reasonably be described as paradise. It is Tamara Ecclestone’s plush-carpeted walk-in wardrobe (technically her ‘overflow room’; apparently the main wardrobe is much larger) at the top of her jaw-dropping mansion near Kensington Palace. Our hostess and her sister Petra, glammed up to the nines, are getting ready to be photographed, and a stylist is helping Tamara into a pair of neon shoes. ‘Are these mine?’ asks Tamara.

To be fair, it must be hard to keep track lined up around us are hundreds of pointed stilettos: a very expensive army comprised mostly of Christian Louboutins, but also Aquazzuras, studded, jewelled, patent, velvet, beaded, sparkly, transparent, suede, coral, gold and – in their dozens – nude. On show in the middle of the room is a rainbow of Hermès Birkin bags, and on nearby shelves sit Tamara’s collection of slides (Chanel, Balenciaga, Gucci). ‘I always wear flats in the daytime,’ she says cheerfully. ‘When I was younger, I used to wear heels to the supermarket!’ She is rumoured to be worth around £230 million.

Getting to the wardrobe has been an experience in itself. After being ushered into a basement entrance where my picture was taken by a security guard, I am accompanied into the house. I say I need the loo, and I’m directed through the gym – a hall of mirrors – to a black bathroom. When I say it’s black, I mean everything in the room is black, and because I can’t understand the hi-tech light switch and am terrified that I’m pressing some kind of alarm, I end up having an anxious pee in near darkness. To add to the confusion, the toilet roll is black, too.