Vogue Williams has revealed how she plans to spend her I’m A Celebrity fee.

The podcaster was one of many famous faces in this year’s series of the ITV show, rocking up as a late arrival with Tom Read Wilson.

However, Vogue ended up becoming the third celeb to be voted out. And now, the mum-of-three has opened up about her plans to spend her reported eye-watering show fee.
Vogue appeared on this year’s series (Credit: ITV)

Vogue Williams’ plans to spend I’m A Celebrity fee

For her stint on I’m A Celebrity 2025, Vogue reportedly bagged a huge fee of £100,000. But it was rapper Aitch who was apparently this year’s top earner as he bagged a reported £250,000 fee.

Meanwhile, comedian Eddie Kadi is thought to have earned the smallest fee at £75,000 as The Sun reports. Nonetheless, it seems Vogue is wasting no time to spend her I’m A Celebrity’s salary…

On Monday (December 8), from Australia, Vogue chatted to Amanda Holden and Jamie Theakston on their Heart Radio Breakfast Show.

When asked what she has been doing since leaving the jungle, Vogue replied: “Eating and drinking and then spending my entire fee on clothes over in Australia, I have bought an extra suitcase – treat yourself!”
She revealed her plans to spend her show fee (Credit: ITV)

Vogue gushes over I’m A Celebrity co-stars

Talking about the 2025 winner Angry Ginge, Vogue gushed: “He is so funny and he’s such a nice, kind boy. I can’t imagine him ever being horrible about anyone, he’s just really sound.”

She also said she “felt the same way about Tom”. Vogue explained: “Tom is this special human and he is just one in a million and he was such a great person.

“So, any of them to win would’ve been great. And Angry Ginge, I mean, I kind of felt like he had it in the bag from the start.”
She was the third celeb to be voted out (Credit: ITV)

Vogue hits back at I’m A Celebrity exit claims

In other Vogue-related news, the star clarified her comments after claiming she’d have stayed longer in the jungle if viewers in Ireland had been able to vote.

Speaking to the Daily Mail, Vogue said: “Had Ireland been allowed to vote, things probably would have been maybe slightly better and different for me. There were loads of family and friends that couldn’t vote for me. A lot of people couldn’t vote because they are over there.”

Shortly after, a post about her comments was shared on Instagram. And Vogue quickly fired back in a bid to clarify her remarks.

“I absolutely didn’t say that. Those words never left my mouth. A journalist asked me that question and I didn’t know the answer to it because it is an impossible thing to know if it would have changed anything,” she said. The headline was what the journalist asked. Not what I said.”

When rumours first began circulating that Vogue Williams had agreed to join the latest season of I’m A Celebrity…Get Me Out of Here!, many fans assumed the story was little more than another fleeting headline in the ever-spinning wheel of celebrity gossip. After all, Vogue had built a career on her own terms—podcasting, presenting, writing, raising a young family, hosting shows, and developing a vibrant digital presence that rarely left room for the kind of extreme, uncomfortable environment the jungle was known for. Yet as the weeks passed and hints emerged across entertainment platforms, the conversation grew from idle speculation to near certainty. Her name appeared on predicted cast lists, tabloids revisited her past television challenges, and fans began imagining how the Irish star might handle an environment where glamour evaporated and everything came down to grit. And then, when confirmation finally arrived, the internet buzzed not only with excitement, but curiosity: what had convinced Vogue to take on such a wild, unpredictable experience—and perhaps more enticingly, what did she plan to do with the much-discussed £100,000 appearance fee allegedly attached to the deal?

As viewers watched the season unfold, Vogue became one of its most compelling figures. With charisma that felt unforced and an honesty that translated seamlessly on screen, she quickly became a favourite among fans and a steadying presence among her campmates. Being thrown into the chaos of jungle life, with its grueling trials, scarce food, and endless discomforts, revealed layers of resilience and humour that audiences had only glimpsed in her polished media appearances. The jungle has a way of stripping celebrities down to something more essential, and in Vogue’s case, the experience seemed to illuminate rather than diminish her. But while the show documented every emotion, crisis, and triumph, one question lingered in the public imagination: how would she use the fee that had helped draw her into this surreal adventure?

Once the season ended, Vogue returned home thinner, physically exhausted, but visibly energised by a sense of accomplishment that no amount of hardship could overshadow. She eased back into family routines, reconnected with her children, laughed with her husband about the absurdity of jungle life, and slowly resumed her professional commitments. Interviews were scheduled. Podcast episodes resumed. And somewhere in the midst of the post-show haze, fans finally got the answer they had been waiting for. In a candid and surprisingly emotional conversation shared during a podcast taping, Vogue revealed the plans she had been quietly forming long before she stepped foot in the jungle. The £100k fee—while certainly welcome—was not earmarked for designer bags, lavish holidays, or flashy purchases. Instead, she explained, it was tied to something deeply personal, almost intimate: an investment into long-term stability, creative growth, and a future that extended far beyond the confines of entertainment.

The announcement did not come all at once. Vogue approached the subject with the kind of warmth and deliberation that has made her such a magnetic storyteller. She spoke first about perspective—how the jungle had reshaped her understanding of value and reminded her that money, though helpful, rarely provided meaning on its own. Enduring the jungle’s discomfort had made her more aware of the luxury woven into everyday life. Ordinary things felt extraordinary when she returned: hot water, privacy, warm meals, an actual bed. When you’ve lived on rice rations and questionable snacks surrounded by insects that show no respect for human boundaries, a simple cup of tea becomes its own form of paradise. That change in perspective formed the foundation of her thinking.

But beyond gratitude, she also emphasised clarity. The jungle had offered hours of stripped-back reflection—moments when the chaos settled and she found herself thinking about the future with a focus she had rarely known in the outside world. With no phone, no notifications, no emails, no deadlines, her thoughts had space to stretch. She said she realised how easily ambition could scatter across too many commitments. And somewhere in that realisation, she decided she wanted to channel her earnings into something purposeful.

When Vogue finally revealed the specifics, the response was overwhelmingly supportive. She explained that part of the fee would go toward a project she had been quietly planning for years: a long-term creative initiative designed to uplift women, particularly young women, who felt pressured by modern expectations around success, image, and identity. The idea had taken many different shapes in her mind—a book, a mentorship platform, a wellness project, a media series—and the form was still evolving. But at its core, she wanted to build something that would outlast a season of television. Something that blended empathy with empowerment, vulnerability with ambition, humour with honesty. Something that felt authentically hers.

Her revelation resonated for a simple reason: it was emotionally sincere. Rather than turning her fee into a symbol of indulgence, she transformed it into a symbol of possibility. And yet, that was only part of the story. The more she spoke, the more layers unfolded. She admitted that another portion of the payment would go toward ensuring stability for her children—a form of financial consciousness that reflected her own upbringing, her values, and the lessons she hoped to pass on. Parenting had taught her about the unpredictable nature of life, the need to prepare for unexpected challenges, and the comfort that comes from creating a cushion of security. The jungle had amplified those feelings. If she could endure weeks of discomfort and hunger, she could certainly allocate part of her earning toward her children’s future without hesitation.

This combination—personal purpose and long-term prudence—sparked widespread admiration. Commentators praised her maturity. Fans expressed gratitude for her transparency. And perhaps most significantly, women across social media said they felt seen by her desire to channel personal success into collective benefit. But there was still one dimension Vogue had not yet addressed, and when she finally did, it added emotional depth to her explanation. She admitted that one of her goals was to carve out space for herself—not as a mother, not as a presenter, not as a podcaster, and not as a public figure, but simply as a human being with dreams that had nothing to do with expectation.

That part of the fee, she confessed, would be used for something quietly personal. Maybe a writing retreat. Maybe a course she had always wanted to take but never had the time for. Maybe travel to someplace that offered calm, not glamour. Something restorative, not showy. She acknowledged the societal pressure placed on women to divide every resource—money, time, energy—between others. Investing in oneself, she argued, was not selfish; it was essential. The audience listening to her podcast episode felt this deeply, because here was a woman describing not indulgence, but self-reconnection. The jungle had taken away her comforts so brutally that it reminded her how important it was to nurture her inner world.

When news outlets picked up the story, some framed it as refreshing, others as inspiring. But the true significance of her decision went beyond headlines. At a time when celebrity culture often feels defined by excess, Vogue’s explanation underscored a grounding truth: money is most powerful when paired with intention. She had faced weeks of hunger, discomfort, and vulnerability, and rather than emerging with heightened material desire, she emerged with redefined priorities. That contrast made her stand out.

Yet as the months passed, the emotional complexity of her choice became increasingly clear. She spoke occasionally about how strange it felt to attach a concrete number to such an unpredictable, emotional journey. The £100k fee existed only because she had been willing to place herself in an environment where she had no control. She laughed as she recounted moments of jungle absurdity—trials involving unimaginable substances, nights when she was certain she would never sleep again, days when hunger clouded her thoughts until laughter felt like the only way to survive. She admitted that the physical toll had been real: she lost weight, felt waves of frustration, and sometimes questioned why she had ever agreed to join the show. Yet it was precisely because she had endured something so at odds with normal life that the money carried meaning. It represented sacrifice—not in a dramatic sense, but in a grounded one.

This perspective shaped her decisions further. She began discussing her financial choices openly on her platforms, encouraging people to rethink their relationship with pressure, expectations, and security. She emphasised that financially responsible decisions should not be glamorised or hidden but spoken about plainly. She noted that many women were conditioned to downplay their understanding of finances, sometimes to their own disadvantage, and she wanted to challenge that. Her openness resonated with younger audiences in particular—people navigating the realities of adulthood while still carrying the weight of social comparison.

But even beyond the practical implications of her spending plan, there was something poetic about the timing. The jungle, in all its chaotic discomfort, had served as a catalyst for self-reflection. Without the distractions of outside life, without the pressures of social media, without the ability to optimise her environment, she found clarity that rarely emerges in comfort. And when she reentered the world with a clearer mind, the fee became a vessel for that clarity.

Still, despite the public praise, Vogue remained modest about the conversation. She often emphasised that her decisions were personal, not prescriptive. She never claimed that her approach was the “right” way to spend money. Instead, she framed it as a journey—one that might evolve as life unfolded. She acknowledged that her perspective might shift again in the future, that circumstances could change, and that flexibility was a form of wisdom. That humility only deepened the public’s appreciation.

In the broader context of celebrity culture, Vogue’s story offered a rare deviation from the stereotype of impulsive luxury. Her choices reflected intentionality, emotional depth, and a refusal to let public expectation dictate personal values. This grounded approach humanised her in a way that glittering red-carpet appearances never could. Fans felt that they understood her not just as a celebrity, but as a woman navigating life with honesty and vulnerability.

Over time, as her project began taking shape, the £100k narrative transformed into something else entirely. The fee was no longer the centrepiece; it became a footnote in a larger story about purpose. She documented moments of brainstorming, late-night planning sessions, conversations with women whose experiences influenced her ideas, and the emotional toll of trying to build something meaningful in a noisy world. She spoke about self-doubt, ambition, and the delicate balance between creative passion and real-world constraints. She emphasised that while money helped, the heart of her initiative came from lived experience.

Her openness about this balancing act touched many people who had never even watched I’m A Celebrity. They saw in her story a reflection of their own internal tug-of-war: the tension between security and aspiration, between personal dreams and practical responsibilities, between caring for others and caring for oneself. The jungle trials had tested her physically, but the real trials emerged in the quiet weeks afterward—when she had to decide what her next chapter would look like without the adrenaline of competition pushing her forward.

Through it all, she remained committed to her guiding principle: to use what she had earned in a way that aligned with her values. Not values shaped by the entertainment industry, not values shaped by public expectation, but values shaped by lived experience, vulnerability, and clarity gained in the unlikeliest of places—a jungle full of spiders, snakes, and frighteningly creative challenges designed to push people to the edge of their comfort.

And so, as her story settled into the fabric of entertainment culture, it became more than a headline about income or spending. It became a narrative about how people evolve when stripped of the noise that surrounds them. It became a demonstration of how money, when paired with intention, can amplify purpose rather than overshadow it. It became a reminder that growth often emerges from discomfort, and that clarity sometimes requires stepping far outside ordinary life.

Over time, as Vogue shared glimpses of her developing project, the original question—“What will she spend the £100k show fee on?”—became almost irrelevant. People were no longer curious about the number; they were invested in the meaning. Her story had shifted from one of financial curiosity to one of emotional resonance. She had shown that success was not about extravagance but about alignment. And in doing so, she offered a narrative that felt refreshing in an era when celebrity culture often prioritises spectacle over substance.

Ultimately, Vogue Williams’ journey through the jungle and beyond illuminated a universal truth: life’s most valuable rewards are often born not from comfort, but from challenge. And while the fee provided the means, it was her vision, heart, and honesty that transformed it into something far more powerful—a foundation for a future shaped not by fear or expectation, but by purpose, resilience, and the quiet determination to build something meaningful in a world that rarely slows down long enough to make space for reflection.

In the weeks that followed her announcement, as the noise around her gradually softened into something more reflective, Vogue found herself returning again and again to the same quiet thought: that the true gift of the jungle had never been the money, not even the clarity, but the unexpected stillness it carved into her life. Even now, back in the frenetic pace of everyday commitments, she could feel that stillness lingering like an echo buried beneath the surface of her routines. She noticed the way she paused before saying yes to new projects, the way she breathed a little deeper during stressful moments, the way her mind flickered with an unfamiliar sense of grounding whenever life threatened to overwhelm her. She understood, perhaps for the first time, that transformation rarely announced itself in dramatic flashes. It arrived in whispers, in subtle recalibrations, in the way she now held herself against the world.

People continued asking about the £100k—whether she felt proud, whether she felt pressure, whether she felt changed—and each time they did, she realised how inadequate numbers were in capturing the emotional reality of what she had experienced. Money could build things, buy things, support things—but it could never summarise the way her heart had shifted in those humid nights under a sky crowded with stars she had barely noticed at first. She remembered lying awake on her jungle cot, listening to the sounds of insects singing in endless layers, feeling her hunger twist and settle as her mind drifted into parts of herself she had not visited in years. She thought about her children then, her husband, her parents, her younger self, the future she was building piece by piece without always knowing what the final puzzle would look like. She thought about the fragility of life, the unpredictability of opportunity, the way discomfort could sharpen the senses until everything felt startlingly, painfully alive.

Those nights, stripped of distraction, had opened something within her, something she couldn’t put back even if she tried. They had taught her to sit with discomfort instead of rushing to escape it. They had taught her that silence wasn’t frightening but revealing. They had taught her that beneath the layers of work, responsibility, and expectation, she still possessed a core of curiosity that had never left her, not even after years of adult life had obscured it.

Now, when she spoke about the future, she did so not with urgency but with intention. She no longer felt the need to sprint toward every opportunity. She no longer feared that slowing down meant falling behind. The jungle had made her realise that her worth was not tied to constant movement. And so, when she explained that part of her fee would be saved, invested, tucked aside like a quiet promise to her family, she did so with a confidence that came from deep emotional alignment rather than societal pressure. She understood that creating stability wasn’t just practical—it was generational. It was a way of shaping a world in which her children could dream without the weight of fear. It was a way of honouring the sacrifices her own parents had made. It was a way of saying: I am building not just for myself, but for the people I love, for the possibilities they will one day reach toward with hands steadier than mine once were.

But even that was only part of what moved her. The more she reflected on her plans, the more she realised that investing in others—especially women who felt unseen—felt like an emotional responsibility as much as a creative ambition. She had spent much of her career trying to balance transparency with protection, vulnerability with public scrutiny, authenticity with the demand to stay composed. There were days she felt she succeeded, and days she felt shattered by the tension. The jungle had stripped away the façade so completely that she had no choice but to confront the parts of herself that longed for deeper connection and deeper contribution. When she thought about the women who wrote to her—those battling self-doubt, those juggling motherhood and ambition, those trying to navigate life’s contradictions with limited support—she felt a tug inside her chest, a kind of emotional kinship that demanded action.

And so, the project she envisioned was not polished or perfect, nor did it need to be. It simply needed to be honest. It needed to hold space for real conversations, real fears, real dreams. It needed to offer tools without judgment, encouragement without clichés, empathy without condescension. She imagined workshops, storytelling sessions, quiet gatherings, online spaces filled with unfiltered connection rather than curated perfection. She imagined creating something that was not about her, but about all the versions of women she had met along her journey—the younger ones, the older ones, the lost ones, the rising ones. The idea filled her with a sense of purpose so profound that she felt it humming beneath her skin whenever she spoke about it. The money wasn’t the heart of the project; it was simply the first stone laid in the foundation of something she hoped would live far beyond her.

As she slowly began shaping that vision into reality, she found herself reflecting more deeply on the strange emotional intimacy that the jungle had cultivated. The friendships she had formed there took root in a soil made of exhaustion and laughter, mutual discomfort and shared triumph. There was something raw, almost sacred, about the way people connected when their energy was stripped bare. Those connections remained with her long after the show ended, woven into her days like unexpected threads that glimmered in moments of reflection. She would sit at her kitchen table, sipping tea, and suddenly remember the way someone in camp had confided a fear they had never spoken aloud before. She would hear her children’s laughter and remember the ache she felt each night missing them. She would open her wardrobe and think about how unnecessary most of her belongings felt compared to the simplicity of jungle survival. She realised that the experience had taught her not only what she valued but what she could release.

This sense of emotional release became a quiet companion as she moved forward. She started letting go of commitments that drained her, even if they impressed others. She stepped away from conversations that demanded she shrink herself to fit expectations. She allowed herself to rest without guilt, laugh without self-consciousness, dream without apology. The more she honoured this softness within herself, the more she noticed how her presence changed. She responded more thoughtfully. Listened more deeply. Loved more gently. Her husband noticed it first, then her closest friends, then her listeners, who sent messages saying her voice somehow sounded different—lighter, calmer, more assured.

What surprised her most was how intertwined this emotional evolution felt with her financial decision. The money had not changed her personality; it had simply given her the freedom to honour who she had always been. For the first time in years, she felt aligned in a way she had not realised she was craving. The £100k, once a symbol of the fear she faced entering the jungle, had transformed into a symbol of integrity. It allowed her to build her future not from fear of scarcity but from trust in abundance—not abundance of wealth, but abundance of self-belief, connection, and the quiet courage to grow at her own pace.

She knew not everyone would understand the emotional weight she attached to the fee. Some people saw money as merely transactional, others as aspirational. But to her, it was something different: it was an anchor, a tool, a bridge, a catalyst. It was the tangible reminder of an experience that had reshaped her—not through glamour or achievement, but through vulnerability and resilience. And she felt proud of how she was choosing to honour that experience. She wanted her children to know that success was not measured by what one bought, but by what one built. She wanted her audience to know that purpose did not require perfection. She wanted women everywhere to know that investing in their own growth was an act of strength, not selfishness.

As her new project slowly grew, she encountered moments of doubt. Creating something meaningful was never easy. There were days when the logistics felt overwhelming, when she questioned whether she had the right to take on such an ambitious mission, when she feared she would fall short of her own expectations. But when those moments surfaced, she returned in her mind to the jungle: to the nights when she doubted she could keep going, to the mornings when she forced herself up despite exhaustion, to the trials she completed through sheer determination. She reminded herself that growth often required stepping into fear rather than away from it. If she could swallow things she never wished to name again, if she could sleep surrounded by creatures that made her heart race, if she could face challenges she once thought impossible, then she could certainly face this.

In time, her project began bringing her the kind of fulfilment she had once believed belonged only to other people. She found herself moved to tears by messages from women who felt empowered by her honesty. She received letters from young girls who said they finally felt permission to dream without shame. She heard from mothers who said her words made them feel less alone. She realised that the jungle had not only given her clarity but had given her a voice shaped by experience rather than expectation. And with each interaction, she felt her purpose solidify.

When she reflected on her life one quiet afternoon, watching sunlight spill across her living room in soft, warm stripes, she felt a wave of gratitude so deep it silenced her for several long breaths. She thought about the path that had led her here—the unpredictable, messy, beautiful path shaped by opportunity, risk, loss, love, motherhood, reinvention, and finally, a jungle that had pushed her to break open and rebuild. She smiled at the thought of how far she had come and how much further she was willing, even eager, to go. The money had been part of her journey, yes, but it was never the centre. The true richness lay in the way she learned to live—more present, more intentional, more alive.

She imagined her future unfolding slowly, like a sunrise that refused to rush. She imagined continuing her project, expanding it, shaping it with empathy and creativity. She imagined telling stories that mattered, stories that invited people to feel instead of merely observe. She imagined raising her children with gentleness and strength, teaching them that the most valuable things in life could not be bought. She imagined returning to the jungle one day—not physically, but emotionally—to remind herself that transformation begins wherever comfort ends.

And in that moment of reflection, Vogue understood something profound. The jungle had not taken anything from her; it had given her back pieces of herself she had not realised she had lost along the way. It had reminded her what it meant to adapt, to persevere, to soften without breaking. It had taught her that courage was not the absence of fear but the decision to move forward despite it. It had shown her that discomfort could be fertile ground for clarity, and that clarity could be the foundation upon which a new life—more authentic, more intentional, more soulful—could be built.

She knew that the world would continue to talk about the £100k fee and the decision she made with it, but she also knew that the true story lived in the spaces between the numbers. It lived in the way she breathed more deeply now. It lived in the softness that settled into her voice. It lived in the dreams she allowed herself to explore without apology. It lived in the conversations she now initiated with a level of honesty she had once reserved only for herself. It lived in the hope she felt each morning, quiet but steady, like the heartbeat of a new chapter.

As she closed her eyes, allowing a calm wave of gratitude to wash through her, she realised that every choice she had made since leaving the jungle came from a place she once feared she would never find—a place of alignment. And alignment, she now understood, was the truest wealth she could ever possess. The money might have sparked the question, but it was her heart that had answered it, fully, bravely, and beautifully.