PassTheAux with Vogue's Annie Lord: how a VICE article brought 20 literary agents to her door
I chat to Vogue dating columnist Annie Lord about how she got one of the most coveted columns in journalism and the personal toll of sharing intimate moments online
I am always in awe of the stamina and creativity required to be a successful columnist, and intrigued by what a columnist chooses to give to a reader – and at what cost. Which is why I was so excited to speak to one of the most adored columnists Annie Lord, who has been writing dating columns for Vogue since July 2020 and who has just announced that her first book, Notes on Heartbreak, will be published June 2022.
I first met Annie at the Telegraph when she was doing some features cover on our desk. I still remember her brilliant piece in which she interviewed reality TV contestants from the Nineties about where they are now (“The only prize I got for winning Shipwrecked was a wooden fish hook. They got away with murder and I signed my life away”.)
And, despite having been in the same relationship for a decade, I am hooked to her bi-monthly dating column for Vogue, which she told me a friend of hers once described as “a really good dating column about not actually dating”. It’s true: much of the column is about self-discovery, of teasing at a knot until it unravels.
Many of her columns are also beautiful and unique ruminations on friendship, from the loss and jealousy you feel when your best friend starts to prioritize their partner over you, to the benefits of allowing yourself to be sexual around your girlfriends.
What I love about Annie’s writing is it feels completely unrestricted – sexual, honest, not always flattering – and also completely true. I think many columnists often let their artistic license get the better of them, or think that to be entertaining their lives have to be more exciting, more glamorous, than their readers’. Annie’s columns are brilliant because they are completely relatable, even if that means, (as we discuss below), sometimes there isn’t that much dating after all.
So, enjoy our chat, in which we talk all about first jobs, how she got her Vogue column and a book deal, as well as when columns lead to awkward moments, and her best pitching tips and tricks. Plus, as always, my top culture picks to finish!
EH: You interned for the Sunday Times and Shortlist Media – tell me about how you stood out.
AL: People always say you have to look smart. But an asset you have that a lot of people working there won't have is that you are young and cool – and knowing what young people are up to. If you stand out in the way you look, they’ll probably be more likely to come up to you and say, do you know about this thing? I had silly pink hair for a while and people would come and ask me if I had heard of this new band or like… Xanax.
Do you know what I’ve never heard anyone say that before but it makes complete sense – part of the reason why our junior staff are so valuable at the Telegraph is that they are plugged into a different culture and can speak to our younger readers. Now what about internship horror stories? As I’ve said before in this newsletter, I once had to share a chair and computer with another intern for three weeks. Tell me yours.
I was working at one of those fashion magazines that you find in like…really weird shops. It was so strange, and it was run out of this guy's flat in South London. And there were two guys with paid jobs who ran it, but then there were 10 female interns sat on his sofa, and they weren’t even paid expenses.
He was so horrible, and pretty sexist too. One girl told me she had been working there for six months but had only just started getting paid. And another girl told me that after she had accidentally taken the keys to his flat home with her (we had to take them to leave his flat for lunch) he made her pay for an Uber to take them back to his flat. Even though she had no money.
So one day I just didn’t turn up. I’d been given one hell of a job where I’d have to upload their entire back catalogue. And I was a bit hungover, and one day, I just didn’t come in and then I just never came in again.
What was the most useful internship for you and why?
My VICE internship was really good because you got paid the equivalent of £14k a year, but in the three months that you were there, And they let you write loads. You basically were a staff writer for three months. So when I came out, I had so many bylines it gave me a massive jump forward.
Do you remember your First Big Edit, and how traumatising was it? One of my worst moments was when my editor actually started groaning as he was reading it next to me, and then told me I sounded like a little old lady writing letters to the Telegraph. Awkward that my next job was at the Telegraph.
Yes! But my editor was so nice about it. It was Sam Wolfson from VICE. He couched it in praise, but basically I had written a university essay, sandwiching quotes between my thoughts. It took me so long to learn how to structure stuff. The piece was about TV programs about people on benefits.
After VICE, you started freelancing from the get go. How did you feel brave enough to go freelance so soon?
I think it was because I just couldn't get a job in journalism. I tried for a lot of editorial assistant positions. I would sometimes get the odd interview. I got really close to be a food writer somewhere. Some feature writing jobs I never even got an email back and I thought I was overqualified! I would get the odd thing by getting recommended by people, like when I temped at the Telegraph. I also worked at the Independent for a little bit. But it was never through applying for jobs.
Because I'm middle class, I’m aware that if I ever couldn't pay my rent then my parents would be able to step in. It’s shit when someone doesn’t reply to a pitch but I never felt fucked because I always knew someone could bail me out.
Did you ever want to give up though?
So many times I was going to bail on journalism. For ages I wanted to be a make-up artist on film sets, but then I realised that was basically going to be just as hard if not harder than journalism.
That’s more glamorous than my back-up, which was managing a shop floor at Aldi.
To be fair everyone raves about the Aldi grad scheme.
So what is your best pitching tip?
I think, going back to what makes you stand out, what you have compared to people in the office is knowledge about what people your age do. So if you have a really weird hobby, that’s much easier to pitch. Don’t pitch something anyone in-house could write. An opinion piece about why Harvey Weinstein is bad is never going to get commissioned, but a piece on why so many young people are into knitting will.
Let’s talk about Vogue! How did you get your column?
When me and my ex broke up, I wrote a column for VICE about a message that he sent me before we started going out, and whether, in hindsight, I should have answered that message. Then [Vogue Features Editor] Olivia Marks emailed me to say they were thinking of starting a column and would I be interested. She basically asked me a while ago to pitch to her, but it’s really hard when you don’t know somewhere to get it right with what they want. I had sent her quite a lot of pitches but I had never got it quite right.
Do you have to run your ideas by Olivia, and do you get edited?
I used to run them by her but I haven’t for ages. To be honest, beyond grammar, it barely changes. She’s so nice as well. She sometimes checks in with me when I’ve written something really personal to see if I really want to say that.
Dolly Alderton recently talked about how boundaries between her and her readers sometimes get a bit blurred, and a reader came up to her while she was on a date and brought up these quite personal things from her memoir that you really wouldn’t want brought up in front of a first date. As you share a lot of your life online too, how do you deal with those shifting boundaries?
I mean I am nowhere near Dolly’s level so I haven’t experienced anything like that. Nobody would recognise me on the street. But I do find that with the guys I’m writing about it’s weird because, usually when you’re seeing someone you wouldn't naturally tell them about what you're feeling about them. But with me they can just go and Google it.
I recently had something where I was seeing someone and, while it wouldn’t have been bad of me to see someone else because we’re not exclusive, it feels weird to write a column about getting with somebody else. Because they will see it. And although I’m not a private person, they might be, and you’re kind of hanging them out to dry.
And does the column mean you can’t have something serious with anyone, because then how will you still be able to write?
Absolutely. At the minute I am choosing my column over a guy, which is so weird. If I was in a relationship, there’s just no way I could do it, even though I would love to read a column about relationship ups and downs.
Same! I desperately wish there was a relationship column somewhere. That’s actually something I would love to write but my boyfriend would never forgive me. Do you ever regret the things you have shared in your column?
Sometimes I cringe, but generally I’m always glad I did it. I wrote one about this guy from school who I really fancied, and I assumed he would never read it because nobody from my school is interested in what I do or has Twitter. And I never put stuff on my Instagram for that reason, so there is more of a separation.
Anyway I Tweeted it, then five minutes later he messaged me like, oh so who’s this James guy then he sounds really cool. I was like, oh my god, now he just knows I fancy him.
What’s the most difficult piece you’ve had to write?
Sometimes writing about my ex can be really intense because we went out for five years and I can end up crying while I’m writing it. But then I find it really therapeutic too. I find that I don’t know what my thoughts are until I start writing and then I realise why something has annoyed me after I’ve written it, and then I feel way better.
Have you ever noticed any snootiness around your work, considering how there is often stigma around women’s ‘personal writing’?
I don’t really come across as a clever person, so I find that when people meet me I come across as a bit thick, and then when they find out I have a Vogue column they’re a bit interested in me. I’ve noticed it more with people from university, who were very dismissive of me. Now they’re all messaging me on Instagram – rude!
How do you keep your columns fresh? They’re always so unique, so how do you keep finding new things to write about?
That’s so nice to hear because I always get worried about them being stale. I have a big Google doc of random ideas, or things that I’ve heard people talk about. And it makes me feel way less anxious, like, when I wake up on the weekend knowing I have to file my column on Wednesday.
I also think that I went through a phase of needing to date all the time. Whereas now I go about my romantic life as I would normally, and I think that is more realistic, because most people don’t have that much sex or go on that many dates. So I think it’s better not to force myself into these situations. I know so few people who are single that are having sex all the time. One of my friends said, Oh it’s a really good column about not actually dating!
So how did you get your literary agent?
Well, that VICE article did bits for me. She read that and got in touch asking if I had considered getting an agent. I said no, but I’d love one. So we went for coffee and talked through some book ideas. Then I went off and wrote a sample. With non-fiction you only have to write two chapters to get a book deal, while with fiction you have to write the whole book. I cannot believe what that must be like.
We get on so well and she’s been so helpful. It made me laugh though, immediately afterwards I had about 20 other people get in contact, once I started doing the Vogue column. So I really should have thought about it more and been more discerning! But I’m lucky that I made the right choice.
What is the book about and did you have to write a proposal?
It’s called Notes on Heartbreak, and it’s about me and my ex breaking up. I did write a proposal. My agent sent me through a descriptive thing of what to do but I don’t remember it taking me more than a couple of days.
Can you share a failure that you’ve really learnt from in your writing?
Usually, if I think getting sources for a piece will be really easy, I pitch it before securing those sources. But I pitched something to the Guardian, got commissioned, and then couldn’t find any of the sources. It was about the housing crisis and I needed to find people whose relationship had been affected by where they were living. But weirdly everyone was so odd about talking about it. People were embarrassed or they didn’t want to piss their partner off. It went on for so long before I just had to give up. It was so frustrating. Often if I think a piece is really hard to write, you shouldn’t be writing it. And get your sources lined up first.
How do you up your word rate these days? A previous editor once told me, always ask for 10 per cent more whatever the cost. But I've been too scared to do that so far.
I should be more bolshy, but I usually just ask when I genuinely wouldn’t write it for the amount offered. Like I used to do so many vox pops for £150/200 a day, but it’s such a horrible job I would need £300 or £400 now.
What’s your best piece of writing advice?
I think the more you write, the better you are. So if you just keep going past the point where most people give up, you’ll get somewhere. I don’t think I am naturally that good, but I’m really persistent.
And is there a journalist or a piece of writing you would like to recommend?
The Lena Denham profile for The Cut by Alison P. Davis. It made me understand why so many people find Lena really annoying. It’s such a skill to hang out with someone and clearly get on so well with them but then also kind of play them a bit.
This week in links
I’ve been interviewing OG influencer and YouTuber Tanya Burr, who many millennials will know from her make-up tutorials and having one of the most high-profile influencer marriages and then divorce. Now she’s in her thirties, pivoted to acting, and having overcome depression and crippling anxiety is the happiest she’s ever been. She talks all about it on my podcast Straight Up. Subscribe to listen, and to get our next episode in which my co-host Kathleen and I lift the lid on our highs and lows in celebrity journalism.
I’ve been watching Succession season three, which came out yesterday and is being drip fed to us through the deliciously old-school manner of weekly instalments. I, however, have already guzzled the entire FIVE STAR season through advance screeners to prepare myself for 10 weeks of commissioning, starting with this piece on the real Logan Roy. So if you have a zany Succession idea, gimme. (Although, has anyone else become grimacingly aware of how unbearably wanky journalists sound when Succession comes up? And that hardly anyone outside our media bubble has actually seen it?)
I can’t stop thinking about this underrated gem of a bar I stumbled upon in Leicester Square, which sits above London’s allegedly oldest restaurant, Rules, and has three rules: no music, no coffee, no standing. I holed up there with a couple of martinis after watching the bonkers new Edgar Wright film Last Night in Soho – about a fashion student who goes back in time to Sixties Soho – and I felt like I was still in the film. Even the website looks stuck in a time warp…
Thanks for reading Pass The Aux! Email me eleanorahalls@gmail.com to let me know what you think or how you’re doing, or find me on Twitter @eleanorhalls1 and Instagram @elliehalls1. Please share, subscribe and forward to a friend!
Ps: Interested in becoming a mentor to a young person trying to make it in the creative industries? Charity and mentorship program Arts Emergency got in touch with me recently to say that they’re currently recruiting mentors for 2022, to help young people in London, Greater Manchester and Merseyside succeed in the arts and higher education. I’ve heard really good things, so go check them out.