Why I'm proud to be Mrs Smellie: Is it old-fashioned for a wife to take her husband's name?

By Daily Mail Reporter

Some women are proud to do it while others reject it as one of the last bastions of patriarchy. In this post-feminist age, should you take your husband's surname? Here, six female writers give their differing views . . .

Esther Rantzen


If you have a name like mine, you get used to being called whatever comes to mind. An old lady once glanced at me and announced: 'It's that Esme Ralston.' I nodded and smiled. A teacher wrote to tell me he had asked his class to define Esperanto.

One pupil said: 'That woman on That's Life!' Esperanto, that's me. Or Hester Ramsey. Or Ethel Rankin. Richard Stilgoe called me Estrana Razor Teeth. Given a first name with a silent H and a second name with a Z, there's no point being over-sensitive.

Then, in 1977, I married Desmond Wilcox. After our first night as man and wife, the waiter brought in our honeymoon breakfast.

He put down the tray and asked for my autograph. I signed proudly: 'Esther Wilcox.'

I did not feel a loss of identity. In fact, I was delighted I'd gained a new one. But the waiter looked at it, grimaced, crumpled it up and said: 'No, Esther Rantzen, please.' I did as he asked, but judging from Desmond's scowl, it wasn't the ideal way to start our married life. So I learned to use both.

It is delightful to have a double life. To my obstetrician and my children's teachers, I have always been Mrs Wilcox, which gives me the luxury of a private life. To my employers and to maitre d's, I am still Esther Rantzen. The strange thing is that while I am tolerant when Rantzen is mis-spelt, I get incensed if anyone writes me down as Willcox or, even worse (and it has happened), Willycocks.

Which do I prefer? As a widow, for Ascot's Royal Enclosure and my daughter's wedding invitation, though he died nine years ago, I am Mrs Desmond Wilcox.

It may seem formal, it may underline what I've lost, it may seem old-fashioned, but that's the name I love best.

Liz Jones:


It didn't occur to me to change my name when I married.

Though I'd dreamed of an exotic name, when I married a Dhaliwal, I was not remotely tempted. In fact, the reverse happened: he became known as Mr Jones.

I not only wanted to keep the identity I'd had for 40 years, but deep down I knew the marriage wouldn't last and I'd have to change it back or be one of those women who keep their husband's name 50 years after the divorce.

I look down on professional, grown up, independent women who take their husband's name: how subservient, selfeffacing and stupid.

Alice Smellie


'I think I'll keep my maiden name for work,' I said on the first day of my honeymoon. It shattered the peace.

'You said in front of God that you'd take my name,' he boomed. And that was that. It mattered much more to him that I became Mrs Smellie than I minded changing from Miss Robinson.

But having been a writer for six years, there was a sacrifice: my professional history was wiped out. Though it's legal to maintain your maiden name, it's less hassle to change it, especially when children come along. The older two are proud of being Smellies and would be puzzled if I refused to be one.

It's hard to book tables in restaurants and I'll never get used to the sniggers. That said, no one forgets it. One thing I'm not so keen on is being Mrs Justin Smellie. I'm far too fond of my first name for that. 

Maeve Haran


I am fond of my name, it is part of me and, as a novelist, it's part of my image. My stubborn adherence to my single name may be because I married late in life and had a long time being Maeve Haran, too long to give it up.

My children had a storybook about a character 'who liked being a Ms'. And so do I. I just don't see myself as Mrs Graham. In fact, I wouldn't turn my head if someone called it out.

On holiday in Cyprus a few years ago, I booked a hire car in my single name and asked for two children's seats.

'Two baby seats,' the shocked man responded. 'And still a Miss?' That's become our family joke.

Leeming Jan


Though I never disliked my given name, I was never that attached to it - Janet Dorothy Atkins.

Then aged 19, I married my first husband John, and took his name, Staple.

Being so young, and with a 15- year age gap, the marriage was a disaster. I left after six months.

My knight in shining armour came in the form of Owen Leeming, who helped me to find digs in London and rebuild my self-confidence. We fell for each other and I agreed to return with him to his native New Zealand. I needed a passport, but did not want to use my married name, so on August 3, 1962, aged 20, and for 12 shillings 101⁄2d, I changed it by deed poll. Though Owen and I did not stay together, I started my acting career with the name of Leeming.

The Australians shortened the Janet to Jan and Jan Leeming was born. My TV career was well established by the time I married again, 11 years later, so I kept Leeming as my professional name.

Since then, and despite three more marriages, I have retained Leeming because of my work. I don't see it as a feminist issue, but I can't think of anything that would make me change from being Jan Leeming.

Tess Stimson


When met my first husband, he was married.

His divorce was bitter, and when we finally made it down the aisle two years later, taking his name was more about scoring points and flaunting my victory than anything else.

But I had already published two novels under my maiden name and couldn't bear to give it up completely.

I decided to keep my own name professionally and add his to mine for everything else. When our two sons were born, at my husband's suggestion we gave them his name as their surname and my maiden name as a forename.

When we split up after eight years of marriage, I simply dropped his name from mine on all the paperwork. I had no intention of trading off it for the rest of my life, as his previous wife had done - ten years after their divorce, she set up a PR company using his name.

Two years after the divorce, I married again. This time, I decided to stick with my maiden name. It's who I am and I can't see why any woman should be labelled as her husband's property. It certainly doesn't stigmatise the children, so what's the point? Our daughter has his surname, and my two sons have their father's.

It makes booking holiday flights complicated, but other than that, it doesn't matter. Everything I've achieved has been under my maiden name. There's no way I'd give it up now.