She’s broke. She’s rich. She’s moving to a Georgian mansion in Somerset with a collection of rescued racehorses, and three weeks later, she’s counting pennies for a loaf of bread. If you’ve ever opened the Mail on Sunday or scrolled through the digital pages of the Liz Jones Daily Mail archives, you know the drill. It’s a rollercoaster of high-fashion labels and crushing debt. Honestly, it’s exhausting. But we can’t stop looking.
Liz Jones isn't just a journalist. She’s a genre.
For over two decades, she has laid her life bare with a level of vulnerability—and, let's be real, a level of narcissism—that makes modern influencers look like closed books. She was the editor-in-chief of Marie Claire. She had the world at her feet. Then, she pivoted into being the woman who tells you exactly how much her divorce cost, why she hates her neighbors, and the specific brand of organic blueberries that contributed to her bankruptcy.
The Polarizing World of the Liz Jones Daily Mail Diary
Most people don't just "read" Liz Jones. They react to her.
Her long-running column, The Diary of a Proper Life (and its various iterations like Liz Jones's Diary), is a masterclass in the "confessional" style. You’ve probably seen the headlines. They usually involve her latest skirmish with a "vile" ex-husband—whom she famously referred to as The Rockstar or David—or her ongoing battle with the aging process.
Why does it work? Because she says the quiet parts out loud.
While other lifestyle columnists are busy pretending their lives are Pinterest-perfect, Jones is busy complaining that her hair extensions are falling out or that she’s lonely in a house that’s too big for her. It’s raw. It’s often deeply uncomfortable. Sometimes, it’s borderline infuriating. You read a paragraph where she laments being "destitute" and then, in the very next sentence, she mentions buying a £2,000 Prada coat.
It’s this specific brand of cognitive dissonance that fuels the comment sections. If you scroll to the bottom of any Liz Jones Daily Mail article, you’ll find a war zone. Thousands of readers calling her out for her spending habits, her treatment of friends, or her perceived "misery."
But here is the thing: the Mail knows exactly what they’re doing. Hate-reading is a massive driver of traffic. Whether you sympathize with her struggle to find love in her 60s or you think she’s the architect of her own misfortune, you’re still clicking. You’re still seeing the ads. You’re still part of the ecosystem.
The Fashion Editor Who Lost It All (and Kept the Shoes)
Before she was the woman people loved to tweet about, Liz Jones was a serious power player in the fashion industry. She didn't just fall into the Daily Mail; she earned her stripes. Her tenure at Marie Claire in the late 90s was marked by a refusal to use ultra-thin models, a move that was decades ahead of its time.
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She has a genuine, deep-seated knowledge of the industry.
When she critiques a red carpet look or a runway show for the Mail, she isn't just saying she doesn't like the color. She’s dissecting the stitch work, the heritage of the brand, and the politics of the front row. This is the E-E-A-T (Experience, Expertise, Authoritativeness, and Trustworthiness) that Google looks for. She knows her stuff.
However, her personal financial narrative often overshadows her professional expertise. She has written extensively about her 2014 bankruptcy. It wasn't just a one-time mention. It was a multi-year saga. She detailed the visits from bailiffs and the shame of having her credit cards declined at the supermarket.
For a woman who once earned five-figure sums for single articles, the fall was public and painful. Yet, she kept writing. She turned her insolvency into content. That is the Liz Jones way.
Relationships, "The Rockstar," and the Search for Validation
If there is one thing that defines the Liz Jones Daily Mail experience more than fashion, it’s her disastrous romantic life.
She was married to fellow journalist Nirpal Dhaliwal. The marriage ended spectacularly. Since then, her "Diary" has featured a rotating cast of men, usually given pseudonyms. There was the "Rockstar" (David Scace), whom she dated on and off for years, leading to columns that ranged from blissfully happy to venomously angry.
- She once famously wrote about how she checked his emails.
- She wrote about his hygiene.
- She wrote about his refusal to move in.
It sounds like gossip because it is gossip, but it’s self-inflicted.
There is a psychological depth here that most critics miss. Jones often writes about her "Body Dysmorphic Disorder" and her lifelong struggle with an eating disorder. She talks about the feeling of being "invisible" as an older woman. These are real, heavy topics. When she tacks them onto a story about a failed date, it creates a weird blend of high-brow therapy and low-brow tabloid fodder.
The Animal Obsession
Then there are the animals.
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Liz Jones is a staunch vegan and an animal rights activist. This isn't a hobby for her; it’s a lifestyle that has cost her millions. She has bought properties specifically to house rescued horses, dogs, and cats. At one point, she was spending more on specialized feed and vet bills for her "equine family" than most people spend on their mortgages.
Her readers are split on this. Some see it as a noble, selfless act. Others see it as a symptom of her inability to connect with humans. She has admitted as much in her columns, often stating that she prefers the company of her Border Collies to any man.
In 2023 and 2024, her columns took a darker turn as she dealt with the deaths of several of her long-term animal companions. These pieces were devoid of the usual snark. They were genuinely moving. They showed a side of her that isn't just about labels and bitterness. It showed a woman who is, at her core, deeply lonely and trying to fill a void with creatures that don't talk back.
Why the "Liz Jones" Formula Still Works in 2026
You’d think that in the age of TikTok and instant-gratification social media, a weekly newspaper column would be dead.
It isn't.
The Liz Jones Daily Mail brand survives because it is the original "Long-Form Influencing." Before there were "Get Ready With Me" videos, there was Liz telling you what moisturizer she used while crying in her bath.
She understands the "hooks."
- The Financial Hook: "I spent £4,000 on a rug while I couldn't pay my electric bill."
- The Romantic Hook: "Why my boyfriend hasn't called me in four days."
- The Industry Hook: "Why the Oscars are a sham."
She mixes these with a cadence that is uniquely hers. Her sentences are often clipped. Short. Punchy. Then she’ll veer into a sprawling, 50-word sentence about the decline of British rural life.
Addressing the Criticism
Is she "fake"?
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Some critics, including former colleagues, have suggested that she exaggerates her misery for the sake of the column. They point to the fact that she continues to live a life of relative luxury compared to the average person, even while claiming to be "broke."
Others argue that she is a "pick-me" for the patriarchy, often criticizing other women for their looks or their parenting. There was a famous feud with Rihanna after Jones called her a "poisonous pop princess" in a 2013 column. Rihanna fired back on Instagram, and the internet exploded.
But whether her persona is 100% authentic or 40% performance doesn't actually matter for the reader. The "Liz Jones" character is a mirror. She reflects our own insecurities about aging, our own bad spending habits, and our own desperate need to be loved.
She is the person who says the things you're ashamed to think.
Actionable Takeaways from the Liz Jones Saga
If you are a writer, a brand, or just a curious reader, there are lessons to be learned from the longevity of the Liz Jones Daily Mail column.
- Transparency over perfection: People are tired of polished "lifestyle" content. They want the mess. If you’re building a personal brand, showing the failures is often more profitable than showing the wins.
- Identify your "villain": Every good story needs a conflict. For Jones, it’s often "The Rockstar," "The Bank," or "The Neighbor." Who or what is the obstacle in your narrative?
- The power of the niche: Jones doesn't try to be for everyone. She knows half her audience hates her. She writes for the half that is obsessed with her—and the half that hates her enough to keep clicking.
- Consistency is king: She has been doing this for decades. You don't build a following like hers by posting once a month. You do it by showing up every Sunday, without fail, even when you have nothing left to give.
Moving Forward with Liz
As of early 2026, Liz Jones continues to be a fixture of the British media landscape. She has moved house again (or is thinking about it). She has a new dog. She probably has a new grievance.
If you want to understand the modern British psyche—or at least a very specific, middle-class, anxious part of it—reading her column is essential. Don't go in looking for a "how-to" guide on life. Go in looking for a character study.
Check out the Daily Mail’s online archive and search for her name. Start with her pieces from the mid-2000s and work your way forward. You’ll see the evolution of a woman who decided that privacy was a price she was willing to pay for a platform.
It’s a bold choice. It’s a lonely choice. But it sure makes for a hell of a read.