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Penelope Keith died this week at the age of 86. A formidable actor who came across in real life as grounded, humble and charming, she was known for playing brittle, status-obsessed characters on stage and screen. And none were more memorable than The Good Life’s Margo Leadbetter, whose command of a room depended as much on her diva-level wardrobe as on her pristine home counties vowels. Here was someone who refused to accept the concept of being overdressed, even when answering the hallway telephone. From the moment we first see Margo (in episode two – she is only heard off-screen in episode one), in a screamingly loud chiffon tangerine kaftan, it is obvious that she is the one to watch – first and foremost for her style.

In the 2025 documentary The Good Life: Inside Out, now on Apple TV, celebrating 50 years of the 1970s sitcom, Keith explains that most of the series’ costume budget went on Margo because of her frequent outfit changes: “And people couldn’t wait to see what Margo would wear next.” Keith used to spend Mondays – “my one day off” – in Harrods (“occasionally Harvey Nichols”) trying on pieces: “All those hours in there I spent, trying on those lovely floaty clothes …”. Here are a few of her best looks.

The acid brights

As a child of the 1970s, I can remember my grandmother frequently remarking on the marvel of colour television. The BBC and ITV only began broadcasting in full colour in 1969 and not all families would have made the switch by the time The Good Life was on air (1975 to 1978). Margo was frequently resplendent in acid brights (orange, yellow) and jewel shades (turquoise, amethyst), which made a real splash on a colour television. The clash with the rest of the cast’s muted wardrobe worked even for those still watching in black and white. At the heart of the show was the visual contrast between glitzy Margo and humdrum Barbara (Felicity Kendal) and the colour palette accentuated this. While Margo dressed up even for tradesmen, Barbara wore jeans and one of Tom’s old shirts. Despite Margo being arguably the more stylish of the two, it was Barbara who was regarded in many quarters as “the sexy one”, with Kendal winning the inaugural Rear of the Year award in 1981. Margo’s rear, meanwhile, was shrouded in mystery. Which is perhaps why she won out as a style icon in the end.

The maxidresses

An elegant woman sitting in the hallways next to banisters resplendent in a drapey electric blue dress and matching headband.
Keith as Margo resplendent in electric blue and a headband. Photograph: BBC

Whether you call it a maxidress or a kaftan, this is Margo’s signature style. An electric blue dress (used for only one scene, when Margo was on the phone in the hallway) was by Frank Usher. Many others were Harrods’ own label. Most were not Penelope Keith’s personal style – “I don’t think I would have worn them. But Margo loved them” – although one dress, at least, was Keith’s own: a white silk kaftan with pink print.

It’s hard to imagine Beverly in Abigail’s Party (1977) without Margo’s sartorial influence – this is very much a look that requires you to waft into a room bearing a tray of cheese and pineapple bites. Although Margo would probably regard these as common.

The rock-solid Grecian hairdo

Margo had wonderful 1970s hairdos, typical of the time when women “set” their hair using Carmen heated rollers. Barbara’s hair was also gorgeous but the polar opposite: air-dried, free-flowing, no products, tied back with a headscarf, ideal for milking Geraldine the goat. Margo’s hair barely moved in the breeze and if she was attending a social event, it would be heavily lacquered and often styled, complete with extra braids, in an elaborate “Greek goddess” style to match her kaftans. In real life, Keith had no-nonsense, nicely “done” but not perfect hair and declared herself slightly exhausted with the upkeep Margo required: “My hair changed four to five times every episode, which for 25 minutes was quite a lot of time spent in hair and makeup.”

The headbands

Although this was the decade of the festival – the Pilton Pop, Folk and Blues Festival, later known as Glastonbury, debuted in 1970 – Margo was certainly not a festivalgoer. You couldn’t imagine her ever listening to Fleetwood Mac. (Rumours was released in 1977.) Instead, she wore headbands not to celebrate counterculture but to conform: these pieces were to “finish” an outfit or showcase a matching swathe of fabric. There is even one episode where Margo appears in full leopard kaftan with matching headband (and the headband appears later on repeat, with other outfits). Surely the true origin of leopard as a neutral?

The country weekend separates

Over four series of The Good Life, Margo wore separates and sporty outfits surprisingly frequently: she owned a pair of jodhpurs and even wore a tracksuit in an episode that was filmed live in front of Queen Elizabeth II. Margo’s off-duty uniform was tweed skirts with camel polo necks, casual Missoni-adjacent co-ords, tunics and “slacks”. This pared-back, “aristocrat’s-day-off” style informed Keith’s next character, Audrey fforbes-Hamilton, in To the Manor Born (1979 to 1981). If Margo was a sort of psychedelic Margaret Thatcher, Audrey is dressed-down Maggie: all camel wrap coats, tweed waistcoats and “country weekend” suits. Diana, Princess of Wales channelled the same look on her 1981 Balmoral honeymoon.

The jolly game gal headwear

Margo had a variety of headgear. Hats were for gardening, as the garden was an important “character” in The Good Life, with Margo peering over the fence in horror at Tom and Barbara’s efforts at subsistence farming. And hats were for public occasions, such as meetings of the Surbiton Ladies Conservative Association. Margo came from a generation where you wore a hat not to stand out but to fit in. There’s something especially poignant when it’s a sou’wester or a Christmas paper hat: Margo doesn’t have a sense of humour and so she is desperate to prove that she is “game for a laugh”. This was also social commentary: within a few years, hats were no longer essential in certain public settings. As with many of Margo’s mannerisms, habits and aesthetic choices, she represented the last of a dying breed. RIP, great lady.