Let me explain why I spotted Olivia Colman in Tesco Metro and how it changed my perception of down-to-earth style forever. So it was around three years ago and I was wearing my worst “quick trip to Tesco” outfit. The ripped-up jeans I keep promising myself I’ll donate but never actually get round to it (Levi’s, if you’re interested – they’re VERY old), the faded-navy jumper that shrunk slightly in the wash but not enough that I ever bother buying a replacement, the slip-on white trainers with all the glue rubbed off the sole.
I’m queueing up to pay for two bottles of wine that are pretty much identical but for the slightly nicer label on one when I realise there’s a queue two people deep at the cheese counter. Which is where she was. Wait – Olivia bloody Colman.
The Crown. Oscar-winning Olivia Colman.
When I tell you, royalty.
Except she looked exactly how I felt. Quicker than you can say Hillsborough she had become our monarch and judge of bake-offs dress-wise. Better jeans – no rips or holes at least – but still faded Old Navy.
Same navy jumper, though hers had an actual tiny coffee stain on it which made me feel marginally less guilty about mine. Same white Superga trainers. She was wearing a baseball cap too, which I recognise is an entirely season-appropriate and adorable look when you’re Queen Olivia Colman.
But even that looked rumpled andatcherfect, like she’d grabbed it on her way out of the door without thinking rather than as part of some premeditated outfit. It was then I realised that British celebrity culture has a whole style category of its own – the “I only need to get some milk and loo roll” style. Neither is it that slightly orchestrated casual we see Hollywood celebrities shoot for when they want to be spotted picking up their prohibitively expensive kale at Whole Foods.
Nor is it that effortless je-ne-sais-quoi thing that all the French people seem to have got down. It’s something far chicer than that – so real, so British and, quite frankly, so shambolic. Mind you, I’ve always loved people watching and taking stock of what others are wearing – it’s half the reason I ended up working in an image-based industry!
But watching celebrities butcher the high street is one of my great, weird pleasures. Going shopping in LA is a performance sport. Nobody walks around West Hollywood grabbing their bananas and espresso martini smoothies au naturel.
You’re spotted in an insufferably pricey gym kit worth more than my monthly rent and a topped-up hair because you didn’t realise your blowdryer counted as heating the straighteners needed extra time to be terrifyingly good-looking. It’s an art. But the British celebrity supermarket shop takes bravery in its complete lack of intention.
Sure, our stars might wear the pants off their trousers getting fodder for the checkout panda cameras, but they really do look like they threw the first sweater and shoes they saw on over their underwear. Watching celebrities bumble around the baked beans like everyone else. Past girlfriends have criticised me for looking like I’d rolled straight out of bed when I go food shopping, but that Beckham’s approach to #OOTD is a gamechanger if ever I saw one.
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Joggers? Check. Primark-ish jumper?
Check. UGGs? Someone give that woman a prize.
Kate Moss, Laura Ashley, Laura Manners-Moss? At least somewhere on the High Street, there’s a dress that qualifies. Amal Clooney stepped out of her car wearing sweatpants so shapeless you’d question why she’d bothered with trousers at all.
They were OTT plain – grey jersey material that looked borderline homemade. She paired them with a simple grey hoodie and flat, ballerina-style trainers. Her hair was scraped back into a bun so lazy it must have taken all of two seconds to accomplish, but still smart-looking rather than slovenly.
Where Hollywood would captain socs team v grammar at nearly every turn, we’re just happy our celebrities know how to dress comfortably. Admittedly, past pals haven’t been awash with celebrities so weaned on John Lewis Christmas Ads, but nonetheless I fully expect to see Emily Barclay wandering around Waitrose (no judgement here if you love Waitrose) in the very near future. Hannah Barry in homeware store Homewares.
Florence Pugh scarfing Nutella out of the jar in Ugly APRONS. Like Emily, both seem to favour highly achievable style aesthetics that can easily be translated to key High Street stores. Flat footwear, boyfriend jeans, oversized jumpers/ shirts – it’s the Alexa Chung of cinema celebrity wardrobe choices; so identifiable as them but on naturalmana levels.
We rarely see celebrities so starkly contrast their day-to-day lives with their jobs that the clothes they wear act as social commentary on class in modern Britain. Maybe it’s Britain’s relationship with fame that makes us treasure those moments where someone famous looks exactly the same as us picking up a loaf of sliced pan. We have this weird social contract here that basically everyone, even the international superstar you slightly freak out about meeting IRL, is allowed to look a bit pants when they’re just popping to the shops.
It’s as though we silently acknowledge that some errands aren’t worthy of a stylist’s time.
There’s something very British about that, I think. It also makes you wonder what celebrities are buying when they go to the supermarket.
Whereas you’ll invariably see American celebs stockpiling organic celery, hemp milk and beetroot (there’s always a photogenic beetroot) in their reusable and unbranded grocery bags, British celebrities are snapping up the same basic items the rest of us are. I’ve seen pictures of Andrew Garfield filling his trolley with white sliced bread (the ultimate digestive vs. basic debate), a multipack of Crunchy Nut Cornflakes and what looks like a ready meal. Our celebs may have better taste than the rest of us but their shopping habits are pretty mundane.
My mam would be proud. I’ll let you into another secret. My mate Laura swears she saw Dame Judi Dench stood in the washing powder aisle at Tesco debating which bottle was the best value for money.
She looked like Laura’s nan would if she was buying detergent for her weekly shop. But she was Dame Judi Dench buying detergent and wondering which smells best. And that, my friends, is the beauty of the British celebrity supermarket shop.
