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She resists exercise but doesn't fool guilty, reasoning that "thankfully
I'm not the dumpy middle-aged type". Being tall means she can
look good in most things and she's philosophical about the ageing
process. "My face is wearing a bit but it's okay. I've always
been extremely unconfident about the way I look and hate being judged
by it.
"To be a singer today, even if you're young, you need botox
all over your face and silicone in your breasts. That's not freedom.
If this is how feminism ended up, then it's a huge disappointment
to me."
Normally on a day like this she'd be looking after clients at the
Arts Clinic, a thriving Harley Street psychotherapy practice she
runs with her business partner and husband Tony Bedford. She guards
his privacy fiercely and prefers not to talk about their relationship
- though she smiles like a Cheshire cat when she refers to him.
The man himself has come along to the photo session to give Sandie
some moral support. Laid-back and even-tempered, he keeps well out
of things but is there at the crack of a whip when she needs advice.
"Tony!" she yells. "Toneeeee!" He lopes off
to give his opinion on a mauve frockcoat Sandie is trying on. Panic
over, he returns to the table in the kitchen next to the model room
and lights a cheroot, on call for the next summons.
"She's been good today," he confides. "She must like
you all. You'd know if she didn't!"
Clearly the partnership is a chalk-and-cheese affair that works.
He - urbane, relaxed, easy-going; she - nervous, shy and strung
like a whippet. He's her calming influence and voice of normality.
She's - well, his mate, He thinks the world of her. They've know
each other for 40 years, Tony lets on. Old friends…
The Arts Clinic offers counselling and psychotherapy for people
working in the creative industries, helping them with anything from
writer's block to drug and alcohol addiction.
"Fame is a double -edged sword and people don't know the pitfalls,
"Sandie says. Yet, worryingly, people crave fame more then
ever.
"There's this feeling today that you're not real unless you're
seen on TV, so we have all these Big Brother-type reality TV shows."
While Sandie feels this kind of instant fame isn't dangerous in
itself, the loss of it can be quite devastating. "It's to do
with a loss of sense of self. People who appear on this kind of
programme think that as long as they're held in people's minds they'll
be forever there. The trouble is they don't have talent, they didn't
win a war or make a movie; they're just famous for having lived
their life in front of everyone else."
Even as a kid she was interested in what makes people tick. "I
like to poke my nose into other people's business - invited, of
course!" she says. "People with big lives and big problems
get referred to me because I'm used to those kind of scenarios,
but I like working with young people too because you can achieve
a lot of change when you're young."
She's been a Buddhist for 23 years, which she says helps her work.
"I have sensitive antennae and pick up a lot of information
unconsciously. Buddhism helps."
She started practising around the time of what she now calls "the
dark ages". The lonely and isolating period of her life when
her 10-year marriage to Jeff Banks was collapsing and she ceased
to function effectively. Part of her recovery was to take action.
"So I got a job as a waitress and loved doing something ordinary
for once."
She claims that if she'd had psychotherapy then she'd have coped
much better. "I would never have retired after Gracie was born
- I'd have been able to manage that transition. I would also have
been able to manage having made a bad choice in marriage and I'd
have handled my finances so much better."
She still winces thinking of her naivety. "Powerful men are
dead sexy and attractive to women but often they also want to control
you. In fact the most powerful men are the ones who don't want to
control you, who want you to be yourself.
"I love men. I think they're gorgeous," she laughs, adding
facetiously: "You'd have thought I'd have cured myself of that
by now." On a more serious note her experience of three marriages
has taught her that, "You can only really like men if you've
hot high self-esteem."
She's disarmingly candid about herself. If she hasn't always been
understood, it's because her humour is subtle and is often gently
taking the mickey. She's often been accused of taking herself too
seriously, "but it's because I'm passionate and people mistake
that for being earnest…"
Right now everything in her life is going well. Her business is
thriving, her third marriage as "ideal" as it could be,
and last birthday she found a way of dealing with the mounting years.
Instead of having it thrust down her throat by hearing it on the
radio and seeing it in the papers, she made a big splash of it on
her website and got hundreds of e-mails from all over the world
wishing her Happy Birthday. She loves hearing from people and is
happy to give out her website address "her communication with
the world" - at www.sandieshaw.com
When I ask Sandie what was the most pivotal moment in her life,
she looks flummoxed. Then she says: "Every day is pivotal.
Life is never dull and, if it is, I change it."
Marina
Cantacuzino
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shavian
