Today Is Always More Beautiful Than Yesterday: My book The Way We Wore: A Life In Clothes now published in Chinese with a different title:


: 黛芙妮‧莎爾菲

Today is always more beautiful than yesterday: 11 stylish and elegant classes written by the UK’s hottest 90-year-old supermodel.

Today Is Always More Beautiful Than Yesterday

Coming soon Book 2 in Japanese すぐに2冊目の日本語版が来る


I would never have imagined when I started to write my memoir that it would be published across the world in languages I can’t understand and in books that open the ‘wrong’ way!  In Chinese, it has been given the title Today Is Always More Beautiful Than Yesterday: Live Young & You Will Never Get Old. Life is a constant surprise and if you haven’t read the Way We Wore: A Life in Clothes in English I have included an excerpt below for you.

The Way We Wore | Chapter 5 Boned Bodice and Sequins
Boned Bodice & Sequins
The first evening dress I made was terribly dashing. It had a puce slipper satin skirt and a black lace boned bodice covered in little gold sequins. You couldn’t buy strips of sequins in 1948, so I sewed each one on individually. It took ages, but the effect was wonderful, so shimmery and sparkly. It was like walking around with your own personal spotlight.

My mother taught me how to make a boned bodice and I can still do it, although there’s not much call for it these days. Strapless then was much more decent. Strapless now I wouldn’t touch, even if I was young, because I don’t think it’s very flattering. It’s not boned or anything. It’s often unsupported and it doesn’t do anyone any favours. I’m amazed by some of the horrible strapless dresses people wear on the red carpet. All that bosom on show looks dreadful!

I wore my slinky, glittering, home-made evening dress – and long black satin gloves – to the Horse and Hound Ball at the Grosvenor House Hotel in Park Lane. I was there with my friend Anne Linfoot and a big group of friends from Essex. I had been hunting with the East Essex – and occasionally with the Essex Union – for a year by then, and my dress couldn’t have been more distinct from my hunting outfit, which was a black jacket, breeches and long boots, a tie or stock and a bowler hat. (Only the hunt servants wore ‘pink’.) It was a complete transformation and I was rather pleased to be able to show off a different side of me to my hunting pals. The evening was terrific fun. One of our party, ‘Tiger’ Davies, won the Hunting Horn Contest for his exceptional blowing.

I had left the little riding school in Arundel by this time and teamed up with Anne Linfoot, a friend from the instructor’s course at Findon, after she rang up one day to say she was starting a riding school and livery stables on her father’s farm near Braintree in Essex. Would I like to come and help her run it? It was a splendid opportunity, so off I went to Braintree.

Looking back, I realize that I only spent about a year with Anne, but we packed so much into it that it seemed far longer. Her father had a big farm at High Garrett, just outside Bocking. He also owned the stables to a big house occupied by Barnardo’s, further up the road, and this wasAnne’s domain. The business instantly took off. Anne had lived in the area all her life and was well known and liked, so our services were in demand. Our Sunday-morning ride became very popular and many of the older pupils became our friends.

It was a very happy time. I loved the unpredictability of working with horses, even though it could be hazardous. Our usual morning ride around the villages near Stisted involved going past the slaughterhouse and the piggery, neither of which horses care for, to say the least. Most of them could be persuaded past, but sometimes it was quite a battle with a new horse. I was thankful for being naturally strong – and it was an excellent way of warming up on a cold morning.

We did fairly well at the local shows. I can’t remember winning much, but I have a few rosettes somewhere, proving the point that it’s the taking part that’s important! We had a very swift and handy gymkhana pony called Lex, who won a lot of prizes. Anne’s older brother, John, rode a chestnut mare called Gay, who pulled like a train but on whom I had some fun, although not a lot of success at showjumping. I wore hunting gear for showing horses, with a topper in place of a bowler when I was riding side saddle. Anne rode her horses in the local point-to-point, but I couldn’t join in, as in those days a ‘paid servant’ was not allowed to. I helped with the schooling and made the best of it – there was plenty of scope for practising in the huge fields on the farm. I think I must have felt a bit hard done by at the time – an outsider again – but I’ve since wondered whether this archaic rule might just have saved my life, for reasons that will become apparent.

Being A Model

Did you see my last Daphne News: Being A Model – If not you can catch it HERE

Do let me know if you’ve read my book and what you thought about it below as I’d love to hear.
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