I think I’ve always been something of a maximalist, at least on the inside. Maybe it’s just a little Neapolitan blood running through my father’s side, but I’ve always loved big, bold glamour. Huge hair, dramatic eyelashes, flashy patterns, if it’s classy and flashy, that’s it for me. But when I was younger, I was probably more reserved for fear of committing to my look and making a mistake.
I truly found my people when I was introduced to Jackie Collins through her author page on the cover of many of her books.
I don’t remember exactly when I first read a Jackie Collins novel, but I was definitely too young to read it. I vaguely remember finding this book on a dusty bookshelf while on holiday in Spain or Portugal. It was a paperback book that had been thrown away in the hotel lobby by a former guest who didn’t think it was appropriate to take it home. I was instantly drawn in by the gorgeous leopard-print cover and the title “Thrill!” There was a “!” mark on the cover of the book that I had never seen before. I’ve been a voracious reader for as long as I can remember, and when I finished my books and was looking for a new one, this novel seemed to promise a good time. I think I was 13 or 14, and I was hooked from the first few pages.
Collins never claimed to write great literature, nor did he aim to please everyone. In fact, fellow writer Barbara Cartland once called Jackie’s work “dirty and disgusting.” Collins’ trademarks were glamour, sex and fantasy, escapism and action-packed frolics. Her books are about the lifestyles of the rich and famous, and she herself lived on the fringes of Hollywood, so she was in the perfect position to write them.
I remember being seduced by her story and trying to hide the cover of the book I was reading on my sun lounger from my parents as soon as I realized how vile it was. Then I flicked to the back of the book and caught my first glimpse of Jackie’s author portrait. It was a really depressing moment.
This woman not only could spin a yarn, but she gave me the inspiration of a glamorous woman I didn’t need. For young Dubliners with an eye for glitter but nowhere to direct their aesthetic energies, Jackie Collins was a breath of expensive-scented air. Here was a woman who sold millions of books and looked like a million dollars while doing it.
I never knew that looks and literature could go hand in hand, that a writer could not only be sexy and amazing, but also successful and respected. The writers I read in school were not image-oriented, and in fact some were image-averse in order to be taken seriously in the literary world. Before the internet, I don’t think I even knew what the women I was reading about were like. Maeve Binchy and Judy Blume turned out to be just as nice and conservative as I had imagined. They definitely had their own style, but they didn’t offer high-octane looks fueled by Collins-esque hairspray or sex appeal.
Jackie taught me that successful, creative women could be glamorous at a time when standing out with your beauty style wasn’t really the end of the world. So this woman actually invented what we now call the yakuza wife aesthetic. Backcombed hair, thick lip liner, and plenty of blush were her calling cards.
And then along came my next literary beauty idol, Marian Keyes. Irish, with alabaster skin and black hair with a perfect pink pout, she was like our Snow White. And she not only looked attractive and wrote about other wonderful women, but also talked about beauty. These were the years where Marian wrote columns about all things glamorous, reviewed products, and was brutally honest about the treatments she underwent with the goal of looking good. One story left an impression on me. The story goes that she went to get muddy the day before her wedding and ended up sweating in smelly gunk and cling film in the name of beauty. Like thousands of other women, I could relate.
Marian still flies the beauty flag. She candidly talks about getting Botox, fillers, and hair extensions at age 60, her love for a good lipstick, and how brightly colored nails make her feel good. Her latest novel, My Favorite Mistake, is a sequel to 2006’s Anybody Out There, in which her heroine, Anna Walsh, works in the world of beauty PR and I pursued a career in magazines. I’ve been writing about beauty for over 10 years, so I know it very well. Make-up, hair products, skin lotions and potions.
Jackie and Marian taught us that dyeing your hair or talking about your favorite eyeshadow doesn’t mean you’re a slut. Nora Ephron and Nancy Meyers taught us that glamor isn’t just about maximalism, it’s also about understated chic. On TikTok, they’re the coastal grandmothers to Collins’ mob wives. Caitlin Moran is glamorous with her silver stripes and red lip, Dawn O’Porter is known for her love of heavy liner, and Dolly Alderton has Brigitte Bardot-like blonde hair and a nude pout. are. Marian remains the personification of Snow White. All of them are truly amazing writers and are confident in their femininity and charm. Their image isn’t everything, but it’s definitely part of the package.
Beauty to me is like armor. It’s a self-care ritual that we partake in that not only shows the world who we are, but allows us to face the day with confidence. We all have our own tastes and signature styles. For some people, it might just be a tinted moisturizer and mascara. For me, it’s winged liner and bushy brows. The bigger my hair gets, the closer I feel to heaven. On the days I work from home, I’m obsessed with skincare, and my extensions are piled up in a bun. But I can guarantee you that when I show my face to the world, whether it’s a lunch meeting or a red carpet, I have flowing waves, defined cheeks, and a glowing tan.
I love baby Botox, I love five brows, and I’m rarely seen without pointy nail polish. Your phone has a list of treatments you need to find time to book, from laser hair removal to dental composite bonding. This doesn’t mean I’m empty or self-obsessed. None of this means I’m not a savvy, professional woman. That means I live and die for a little charm. Now, I’m an author myself, but what about my author photos and promotional looks? Of course, I’m channeling Jackie Collins. But it’s not love or homage, it’s just that her look has always inspired my own.
Vicki’s debut novel, Reality Check, in stores now, depicts an Irish-American family that is as unapologetically glamorous, sexy, successful, and wealthy as Vicki aspires to be. I am.