Meet our new star astrologer

Shelley von Strunckel lives in one of those mysterious pockets of London. Metres from her front door is the mad tourist crush of Victoria station, yet her large, four-bedroom mansion flat tucked behind Westminster Cathedral is eerily quiet.

Her charming assistant, William, ushers you down a tessellated hallway and into a film-set sitting room: Czech iconic art hangs on the walls, Gothic candelabra sprout from the mantelpiece and you are invited to sink into a huge velvety sofa while you wait for the arrival of Shelley, the high priestess of popular astrology.

Shelley is at the Jaguar end of the horoscope market. She has a closed book of private clients in business and politics, is published around the world, most famously in Vogue titles, and has forged her reputation on cleverly written nuggets of cosmic information. Now she is thrilled to be returning to the Evening Standard after a five-year hiatus, with her daily horoscope for the paper and weekly insights in ES magazine.

Shelley's mentor was the late Patric Walker and, like the most famous astrologer of all, she believes the function of horoscopes is to inspire us all to make the right choices in our lives. At 56, she has flawless alabaster skin ("The secret is Vaseline every night - you know, that stuff you put on babies' bottoms") and her wrists jangle with gem stones. She is tall, articulate, American-born and married to London barrister Nigel Gerald with whom she shares a jet-setting Dinky (Dual Income, No Kids) lifestyle. Yet she says with a sigh that it has taken years of determined persuasion to lend astrology any kind of respectability.

"Back in the Eighties, I would introduce myself as an astrologer and people would step back as if I had a contagious disease," she says, laughing. "In America then the perception of astrology was at best, cranky, at worst witchy. So I felt it was important to present its intriguing, acceptable face. If nothing else, to stop people backing off when they met me."

Born and brought up in LA at a time when it was easy to follow one of two paths: worship of the body or worship of the spirit, Shelley chose both. She studied fashion retailing at UCLA and in between lectures on the cut-throat economics of supply and demand she raced downtown to listen to talks on Indian mysticism, crystal therapy and astrology. Hollywood may have been the hub of the plastic-surgery and faddiet industries, but it was also the centre for New Age studies. "Back then, you'd go on a date to hear a lecture on Buddhism, then go buy a hamburger," she explains.

For a girl from a middle-class family, dabbling in the metaphysical was a delicious release from convention. Her father was the vice-president of an aerospace company, her mother the private secretary to its president, and neither was "remotely interested in or encouraged" their daughter's fascination with astrology. But she defiantly chased it anyway, fitting private astrology consultations around her job as a department-store fashion-buyer.

You get the feeling of an earthy rebelliousness bubbling beneath Shelley's glamour. On the sink in her bathroom sits a novelty soap - a praying plastic nun buried in glycerine - and she's as happy eating curry in the student hangout The India Club in The Strand as she is making a fabulous entrance at The Ivy.

But even her strait-laced parents must have been grudgingly proud when she landed her big break as horoscope columnist for the glossy US magazine Mirabella. It was then that she was introduced to the flamboyant Patric Walker, whose columns back in the Eighties were syndicated around the world. They clicked instantly.

"Patric and I both believed it is important to give the reader the feeling that they are an individual. Each sign has a different way of looking at the world, so I write for that viewpoint," she explains. This perceptive style has helped elevate the horoscope from the cranky to the credible. It has also turned the top league of astrologers into householdname stars with eye-watering deals. "Yes, it's lucrative," says Shelley, pausing. "But you don't go into this field to get rich."

Ultimately, Shelley would like to see astrology used as a practical tool in all parts of our lives. She says that many of her private business clients now use it to analyse economic cycles and help communicate with tricky rivals. It is difficult to imagine stiff British CEOs suspending their scepticism long enough to have their birth charts read, but Shelley assures: "They come in and sit down with pursed lips and crossed arms and say, 'Yeah, sure' and give me attitude. But watching that body language change over the next 10 minutes because they are getting valuable information is wonderful."

She can also see a time when astrology will be used in marriage guidance and child development. "An individual's chart gives a very clear sense of how a person sees the world and what interests them," she explains. "You may find a child who is highly creative, but not at all academic, so needs to be encouraged in other ways."

As for the near future, she can see a much more positive, post-11 September era of Aquarian innovation emerging. "It suggests that our world view and mores are now being rebuilt in a new way, which includes each of us taking a greater responsibility for how the world works. I think over the next year, when someone complains, someone else will say, 'Well how are you going to fix it?' Up until now there has been a tendency to wait for the Powers That Be to fix things. Now it's beginning to dawn on us that changes need to start with the individual."

No matter how thin your belief in astrology, Shelley makes it sound utterly convincing. Besides, you want to believe it. "Oh yes," she says, smiling broadly, "from now until December we really will see a far more positive aspect in the world."

Shelley von Strunckel's column will appear on This is London from 30th September