Sam Taylor: The True Star of The Lady magazine

Sam Taylor

Rachel Johnson is in today's Times reminiscing about The Lady magazine which has gone up to the "great boudoir in the sky" as she writes in her payoff. I believe her salary was an incredible £100,000 a year, or more, a sum that the fiercesome Julia - the matriarch of the Budworths, known as the "Gorgon of Deerbolts Hall" (her hice) - came to resent. There is a movie in all this. If directed by Quentin Tarantino I am sure we would see Julia throwing Rachel out of the latter's office window, in an 'alternate history'. We would not be spared the street gore. Slow-mo natch.

But we must not over-preoccupy ourselves with darling Rachel Johnson who I think once offended Dame Joan Collins by alluding to the star's purported financial limitations. Today, I want to celebrate the true hero of The Lady - one Sam Taylor. After Rachel's editorship there was Matt Warren's and then Sam took over him from him. I did wonder whether she would get rid of me as the magazine's first and last astrologer, but I must have done something right. I survived. Actually, I thrived under her stewardship. I always did get on with Aries types. Not only were my human horoscopes welcome and placed well away from the arse end of the book, but she suggested I write horoscopes for pets. For our friends of fur, feather and fin. Suddenly, we were in the menagerie of Libran cockatoos and Aquarian Tiger Barbs. The column didn't last long (I can imagine somebody upstairs thought it all very silly) but I am told it was popular with readers. Perhaps humour was its engine rather than the celestials, and it has been my curse to collide with laugh-free bollards.

All the media coverage of The Lady's winding-up has neglected Sam's considerable contribution to slowing the decline of the magazine. In response to my previous post and a video, she messaged me this afternoon on Facebook and she agreed I should publish her remarks on this site. She writes:

"At the risk of incurring the wrath of Madame Arcatti, I was actually at the mag for almost 9 years - hired initially as features ed when dear Rachel was working out her notice and to shore up the lack of experience of her replacement, Matt. And whilst I cannot claim to have persuaded you to adorn its hallowed pages, I did set about encouraging a first class team of writers to join the mag including Louis Barfe, Liz Hodgkinson, Maureen Paton Maguire, Robin Dutt, Richard Barber, Rod Conway Morris, Ivo Dawnay, Richard Ingrams, Thomas Blaikie...I asked heavenly Juanita Coulson to become the Fashion AND Literary editor which she continued to do with all the style and expertise that made her sections sing. in the end, I served as editor for almost 5 years, steering the ship on a tiny budget but with a remarkably talented team including Melonie Josephine Philips and Lorna Wilson and James Crawford Smith. We had huge fun, were nominated for 8 awards, and I was always happy to personally pay for those contributor lunches that were so uproarious - although I'm sorry you felt the beady eye of RI [Richard Ingrams] on occasion! Even after I left, I adored the mag from afar and I am thrilled that Madame A believes it was sparkling till the last...but then, how could it not with such a stellar cast still sprinkled over its pages ? Very much looking forward to raising a glass or ten to the joy that was The Lady...."

I have to say all the above are great talents and it's a mark of an excellent editor to hire and keep them. Even better, they survived her departure. My hope is that they all move onto greater glory.

The Lady magazine: Madame Arcati Reminisces

The Madame Arcati blog was the first to report on the demise of the British publication The Lady. Four days later, the sloth-like gosser Richard Eden at the Mail picked up the story followed by The Times in which I am quoted (online version). The Lady Limited is being wound up and liquidated as I write. Reportedly the magazine owes £360,000 to HMRC. In addition there will be outstanding sums in wages, writer fees, subscriptions, rent, image uses, etc.

The title had lasted 140 years. It was founded in 1885. Queen Victoria reigned then and Oscar Wilde was yet to frequent London's male brothels with Bosie. Despite subsequent two World Wars and strikes galore it never ceased to come out weekly - even Covid could not interrupt it. It once operated from a grand, off-white building in London's Bedford Street: as a structure, it resembled Miss Havisham's wedding cake, prior to the crumbling of rejection. Within this sweet place, beyond the front door, one was met by a pub-like hinged counter which would be raised for admittance once it was established that one was not a psycho. All around on the ground floor sales staff worked the phones. I noticed that the word 'advertisement' was pronounced adver-tisement which is not the English way so far as I know.

The editorial floors were upstairs and there you risked life and limb. Past issues of The Lady were piled high in rooms and corridors, along with books and other things. A minor earthquake would have brought these multi-storey collections crashing down on one's head. What a way to go. 'Offices' resembled converted drawing rooms. The editor's office may have once been a bedroom for a child. Getting lost in this labyrinth was one peril.

An old man lived at the top of the building, and he lurked silently about. I understand he was the previous owner of The Lady and related to Ben Budworth who owns the title. There were rumours of a ghost in the basement and a much-told tale we might term 'turd-gate'. The past was very much alive here and that was part of the challenge the magazine faced.

I was hired by Rachel Johnson as the magazine's astrologer back in 2011. Rachel became editor (I think in 2009) and commissioned to drag The Lady into the 21st century. In a sign of sanity and alertness, she was a fan of the Madame Arcati blog and amused that in one story I retitled the The Lady "The Old Cunties' Weekly". On the basis of this (I presume) she asked me to write for the magazine and finally was persuaded to run my horoscope column.

I only met Rachel once, at a Molly Parkin party at the Chelsea Arts Club, maybe around 2012. She had the air of someone permanently in transit, or en route. She purposely homed in on the useful of the guests before exiting fast, Anna Wintour-like. She had other parties to zip through. The one thing Rachel did do successfully was raise the profile of The Lady, or remind the public it was still extant. Channel 4 broadcast a wonderful documentary about life on the magazine (The Lady and the Revamp). Feuds and fallings-out were witnessed that included a nonplussed outgoing features editor, a numpty noisy 'literary editor' and the bereft daughter of the previous editor (who would later ask to be my PA after she got the Rachel boot). 

The documentary I think sealed Rachel's fate. Following one filmed row between her and Ben, she described The Lady as a "piddling little magazine that no one even cares about or reads". This enraged the Budworth matriarch Julia (now sadly passed) who threatened to throw Rachel out of her office window. Thereafter, matters deteriorated further. At some point, she published a Jilly Cooper fiction extract which included the term, "lady gardens", a reference to the nether regions of ladies, not to horticultural matters. The only way was out, though to this day I don't know whether she was fired or she chose to leave.

I think Sam Taylor followed (or she followed Matt, see below) and she lasted two or three years. Everyone agrees she was a very good editor. But when Ben decided to move the magazine out of Bedford Street, Sam was off.  

Someone called Matt Warren followed, once a young star of the Daily Mail. I was seated next to him at a Lady literary lunch one day when he turned to me and said/joked, "We only hire you because you're cheaper than Russell Grant". He was off my Christmas card list after that.

Matt was followed by a Maxine something-or-other. She didn't last long. She scarcely ever responded to my emails. One sensed her distress across the ether. One hopes she recovered.

Ben's wife Helen Budworth was The Lady's last editor and I must confess I always liked her. Glamorous, smart, sharp, Aries (like Ben). She had led the advertising team at the magazine, and was the company's managing director. Her Lady sparkled. But by then it was too late. For decades the magazine had been in decline, and the world had moved on in its moods and tastes. I don't think anyone could turn this great vessel around.  

The Lady social events were always huge fun. Before Helen became editor, Richard Ingrams and assorted gossip-rakes attended the magazine's free 5* lunches. Ingrams always turned to stone the moment he spotted me as if I were a trans-Medusa. Perhaps I am. An exotic dandy called Robin Dutt would diffuse his way through parties and lunches like a Clive Christian No 1 fragrance, but bearing a default grim countenance. This would be replaced by joyful animation the moment his attention was focused on fresh quarry.  

Scarcely any magazine now is in its pomp. Vogue is as skeletal as its models; Vanity Fair a flaccid ego stroke. Reader's Digest is no more in the UK. The same with Glamour. Could The Lady re-emerge in another form in the hands of a souvenir guru dedicated to the service of the rich and famous (or merely well-to-do)? Let's ask Grok.

 

     

The Lady horoscope for April 2025

As I reported the other day, The Lady has ceased publication. So here is my April 2025 horoscope that would have appeared in the next issue of the magazine.

April 2025

Aries 

March 21-April 20

A dramatic or eventful month, particularly after 18 April for several weeks. Ruler Mars is then in a better position for direct action after a longish period of holding your horses. Any project fired by your passion benefits from decisiveness. Even so, avoid impulsiveness. Your best strategy is: ‘premeditated intervention’. Something is ready to rock ‘n’ roll. 

Taurus  

April 21-May 21

Ruler Venus turns direct on 13 April, ending a perplexing period in any group situation. Thereafter, you’re in a much better place to assess who best to align with and who to show the door. New friendships can be formed, particularly with those who share your politics, ideals or charitable instincts. Your raised charm does the trick. 

Gemini 

May 22-June 21

If the career area has felt stuck in the mud, there are subtle shifts to suggest that change is afoot, as ruler Mercury’s retrograde ends early in April. The advice is to get out and about. Share your thoughts with friends and allies. Their observations could trigger an entirely new way of looking at your life. 

Cancer

June 22-July 23

Finances are set to improve under pushy Mars and Pluto – in other words, take the initiative and ask for a raise. You may have under-valued yourself. Time for a correction! The best moment for this is after mid-April. And pensioners will be pleasantly surprised by a useful uptick. But don’t splash out as a result.

Leo 

July 24-August 23

Do not fear instability. Its chief virtue is that it challenges the status quo in your life, holding out the possibility of you having a greater say in how life can be lived. Uranus – planet of the unpredictable – is bringing all sorts of unlikely things and people into your life, increasing chances of a breakthrough.  

Virgo 

August 24- September 23

No better time than now to make financial plans and fill forms. And your new state of mind makes you more effective at discerning people’s motives. Which is useful if someone’s trying to be persuasive. In matters of wills and legacies, it could just be that a revision is required. Who has been neglectful of late?   

Libra

September 24-October 23

A ‘social makeover’ is due. Again. This time, events take you into new situations. And your mind is more easily bored by old anecdotes and lengthy accounts of ailments. If this sounds callous, it’s really about being honest and staying fresh to life. Stay kindly in touch with familiars while gallivanting with more sparkling types.

Scorpio 

October 24-November 22

The ‘spring clean’ can be applied to day-to-day life. Making even the smallest change in routine raises morale and triggers creative developments. Wellbeing, too, is a major topic. Whatever gives you space to be pampered or gently pummelled, go for it. A new kind of therapy attracts your interest and could be just what you need.  

Sagittarius

November 23-December 21

Property matters continue to dominate life. Unlike recent past months, April is an excellent month to move forward with any domestic, building or family project provided sensitivity to other perspectives is maintained. Loved ones are more likely to be agreeable to a plan because you are listening to them, even if they have reservations.

Capricorn

December 22-January 20

There’s much to be excited about this year yet you’re feeling uneasy. Your world feels under threat. What does the future hold? Have I missed an opportunity? Am I safe? Ruler Saturn soon enters a new sign, and such a transition is usually marked by nervousness, especially with Cappies. Take a more relaxed approach to what cannot be controlled.

Aquarius 

January 21-February 19

Local world matters don’t greatly interest you, such is the cosmic nature of your mind. Yet the skies decree that neighbourhood politics will preoccupy you. Council Tax? Traffic cones misery? Too many nail salons? Are you still awake? Yet, you will address any of these matters and more with campaigning zeal, to the horror of many. 

Pisces 

February 20-March 20

People will have noted an edgier you in recent weeks, due to ruler Neptune having moved into a bold, fast-moving sign. It’s going to be there for years. This takes time to get used to. On the to-do list is sorting out assets and income. Seek clarity. Fortunately, you have time yet to re-order priorities.  

The Lady Magazine Commences Liquidation Proceedings

Very sad news received today under the solar eclipse (traditionally not great) in Aries.  The Lady magazine has commenced liquidation proceedings arising from HMRC pursuing an alleged £360,000 tax debt. I am supposing the magazine is no more. Only recently it brought out its 140th birthday edition, having been launched in 1885. My condolences to proprietor Ben Budworth and editor Helen Budworth.

I was recruited to the magazine back in 2011 by then-editor Rachel Johnson who was a fan of the Madame Arcati blog. I was The Lady's first and last astrologer. Did I see doom coming? The myth about astrology is that hard and fast forecasts can be made. But let me put it this way. The solar eclipse of today is ruled by Mars, and the magazine's Mars is in its 8th house, traditional zone of death and taxes. The future is not set in stone. But we way reflect on where the planets are at certain events. 

I had the honour of working with some great editors of the magazine. Rachel did the essential thing of breaking moulds and she enjoyed spikes in circulation, but only spikes. I think it was Channel 4 that broadcast a riveting documentary of life at the magazine when it was housed in a wedding cake of a property in Covent Garden. Sam Taylor was a joy and I felt appreciative of astrology, or of acausal approaches to life. Helen brought a great pizazz to the title and I always liked her. 

I'll say more about The Lady another time. 

How Vanity Fair put Graydon Carter in his Place

Faint praise is one way of damning something. Another is to throw a knowing glance at the something before shifting one's fanning gaze elsewhere, fast. As if to say, "Next!" This latter course has been adopted by the April 2025 edition of Vanity Fair, and the 'something' is Graydon Carter's memoirs, When the Going was Good, about his time as editor of that magazine - all of 25 years.

VF's fanning gaze takes the form of  a tiny capsule nod to the fact of this book's existence, a review-ette no bigger than a postage stamp. Oh here it is...

Given Carter's eminence - among other things, presiding over the sensational Caitlyn Jenner cover marking the transition of Olympic gold medal-winning decathelete Bruce to the sisterhood - one might think that the book worthy of a longer review and/or an extract and/or an interview. It was not meant to be. There was the chance to mire the readership in celebrity goss and relive VF's glory days! A chance to celebrate its best editor, arguably. Current editor Radhika Jones plainly decided - or it was decided elsewhere - that the book should not experience an excess of enthusiasm. On the other hand, to ignore it altogether would be less than elegant. After all, one of the reasons why statuesque intellectual Radhika holds her post is because Graydon (and Tina Brown before him) made the magazine such a success in the first place. Kerching, poppet. 

The review-ette has all the hallmarks of an amateurish nepo-intern job. Have you spotted its tautology? Do write in. So, what's going on? We now turn to last week's The Sunday Times Magazine for likely backstories and Hadley Freeman's breathless interview with Graydon. 

Hadley shows some gusto as a writer, and what she lacks in exquisiteness of style is plainly over-compensated for by an abundance of gall (or chutzpah). This latter goes far in mainstream journalism. Pushy-push push. AI-subs can tidy up the outpourings. Alas, Hadley had to fly steerage London to New York to meet Carter, a revelation that plainly amuses him. He flew Concorde in his pomp.

The interview is quite revealing. First we learn that he thinks not too affectionately of American Vogue editor-in-chief Anna Wintour, his boss at Condé Nast as editorial director in the last eight years of his editorship. We discern a long-standing froideur between the legends. He tells Hadley: "It's funny, Anna's job title has gotten longer as Condé Nast has gotten smaller. She's like one of those Ruritanian princes". He also shares that Anna has the vulgar habit of terminating a restaurant meal as soon as she is done, leaving "dinner-mates...mid-bite". Anna was always "frosty" and hints he could have said so much more. While Anna will not have known what Graydon had say to Hadley, we may suppose she got wind of the book's contents - the "cheeky anecdotes" about her - and it was editorially intuited that a minimal reception was in order. Fanning gaze!

We then come to Radhika and her VF - a gelding compared to Graydon's big bollocks stallion. Hadley finds the gelding "less fun", and here I would agree. The layouts are sophomorically distracting and the features candy crush toothless, but for the recent profile of the Sussexes which found its courage in running with the media pack and slagging the Montecito royals off. Hadley tells Carter that she finds Radhika's covers "dull" to which he responds, "You can say that, I never could". A good House of Cards line of non-self-incriminatory agreement. He looks happy to note that today's VF has fewer ads.  

Personally, I would have run a long extract from Graydon's book and relished the indiscretions. Get dirty. I mean, who cares? But Radhika's VF is just nice. And if it does get mean, it looks over its shoulder first.

River the Regalista: Now Meghan Writes Him a Letter!

Madame Arcati's Substack

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Good heavens, the Duchess of Markle has written a letter to one of her trolls, River. Below is my take on him-she with tiara. Meghan attempts to deploy humour in her elaborate epistle, and she reveals some self-satire to her credit. River may accept to gift from Montecito. Meanwhile, River...

Among the baubles of YouTube podcasters is a young femme-chap called River. And how he flows and flows. A torrent of royally-inflected words pour forth on a regular basis, and he is indeed articulate. University-educated probably, or an inspired autodidact. River is a vision of tiara’d pulchritude, and is yet another specialist in matters Meghan and Harry; a regalista in the mode of drawling Lady Colin ‘aw aw’ Campbell and Dan ‘spite face’ Wootton (litigation pending, poppet?), sniping at anyone who may offend or challenge The Firm. In all instances, Meghan of Montecito is marked for especially vicious scorn. Unlike Lady C, River does not pose as an insider with direct Windsor wormholes spewing goss. At least I don’t think so. I have not watched all of River’s videos. I find my horoscopy to be quite time-consuming. From what I gather he is an assiduous reader of royal tattle with a sharp eye for a revealing detail missed by most others. This prompts engaging monologues that sustain the impression of exclusivity.

I have no idea who he is. He says he lives near Hampstead, London. Even Grok is non-plussed, muddling him with the Michael Jackson American impersonator River Gibbs whose videos can be found on YouTube and Instagram. Indeed, I confused the two until River himself drew my attention to one of his podcasts in which he scotches the multiple personality rumour. I must admit I did find it hard to reconcile the athletic rollerskater River G with his Serene Highness River on his armchair throne, imagining that he boarded the transatlantic red-eye to play two different parts. How silly of moi. (Btw, since following River G on Instagram he has made the account private. So my other alter egos watch him instead.)

River’s YouTube channel is popular. He has 154,000 subscribers, and his 367 videos to date have been viewed 47,000,000 times. I’m well jel. Each video draws a cacophony of commentary, mostly of the pleasuring kind, though one recent message earned River’s ire. He was berated for using ‘Jesus Christ’ as a ‘quss’ word and was told to ‘man up’. River’s response was a thing of wonder as he majesterially tore into his critic, telling his public that he could not give a fuck what they thought of him. In any case, as he wondered in effect, what kind of Christian would be watching a faintly louche Rocky Horror Picture Show-type podcast? And why would River, a master of princessy maquillage, want to be manning-up?

This last point takes us to this week when River went off usual topic and gave an entertaining account of his well-populated love life history. Male members (or ‘tree trunks’) were size-queened by ethnicity, and apparently ‘gingers’ smell of pig’s urine. I’ll take that under advisement. It was all very fruity, my fruits - one of his signature endearments. When not engaged in sexual congress, he is quite psychic, confidently predicting Trump’s victory, and appears to approve the 47th’s dictum that there are only two sexes/genders. Tell that to Caitlin (a Trump pal). I gather that divinatory topics are not his thing.

In our short exchange on his YouTube channel comment section, willowy River warmed my heart by asking whether I was ‘THE Vic Olliver’. I like the THE bit. From this I must deduce that in his formative years, before he grew to just under 6′ 2″, he was an avid reader of my old Madame Arcati blog on Blogger. Goodness knows what he made of my cunt-cockery language. What or whom have I created? In the metaphorical sense River is my blog son (or daughter if you prefer), and he has used my example of what else you can do solo and get away with in public. River is my electronic blood but, no, I shall not leave him anything in my will. I draw attention to his PayPal account where you can reward him for his successful screen labours.

Of late, River has moved residence, which was quite a trial for him it seems. He used to be filmed in what looked like a well-decorated snug. Now he has a courtyard of ivy and a new armchair throne set in a drawing room. The mise-en-scène is witness to the sharp study of glossy magazine palace interiors pics, and it is just possible that he will one day do a Lady C and acquire his own Castle Goring. Whether he has to do any whoring so to do - jungly Lady C-style - remains a matter of speculation.

To join River’s court, here is the link to his channel River Broadcast. If Netflix is reading this, sign him up. And if you know River, do leak into my lughole.