The secret WAG: Absolutely Fabulous

She is Fabulous. There's no doubt about that, from her lurid orange tan and bleached blond hair to the big leather bag at her feet. It's by Hermès, apparently. The silver bangles are by Tiffany. The black cashmere beret is Philip Treacy. And the diamond ear studs? "Oh yeah. They were 15 grand. 'Cos they're quite flawless."

Quite. They were a gift from a lover, a football star. "Fabulous" is the pseudonym chosen by a former model who wants to spill the caviar and beans on what it is really like to be a WAG: one of the fabled Wives and Girlfriends found wherever modern footballers gather. Except when they're training. Or at a lap-dancing club, or brothel.

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Which is very often, to judge by her revelatory new book The Beautiful Game (Headline). Although fiction, she insists its stories come from her own life – and people in the normally closed world of football are so convinced by it that they are desperately trying to work out who she is. Speculation has ranged from Alex Curran, wife of Steven Gerrard, to Sheryl Gascoigne, the former Mrs Gazza. She doesn't look like either of them. I have had to sign a confidentiality agreement just to get to talk to her. But I also have to figure out if she's for real.

"People think it's so glamorous," she says, settling back in the sofa at her publisher's office in London. "All shopping and lunching, they say. And..." And what? "And nothing. It is. They're right. It's a fabulous lifestyle," she says, smiling at her own little joke. "If you are prepared to turn a blind eye." To what? "Oh God. Everything!"

The tantrums, paranoia and control freakery of the average footballing boyfriend, with too much time and money and not enough brains. The "team-building exercises" that turn out to be afternoon orgies with prostitutes. And the deadly jealousies of fellow WAGs, from handbag wars to the competitive sport of over-the-top matrimonials.

Current world champions are Wayne Rooney and Coleen McLoughlin, taking their vows in Italy even as Fabulous and I speak. She didn't go, but she has been to other weddings in the same league, including her own, which was nearly a disaster. The Rooneys have hired a fortress and a hilltop monastery in Italy, with fireworks at night and an enormous yacht waiting in the harbour. Leaked reports describe the ivory bridal gown as having a 25ft train and costing £100,000. "Impressive," admits Fabulous. "But I know people who will look at that and say, 'Oh yeah? We'll do it bigger!'" Why? "Because they can."

Not without help. Half the estimated £5m cost of the wedding is said to have been met by OK! magazine. Such deals are a WAG staple (if not often on that scale). There are two golden rules, says Fabulous, and the first is to keep the paparazzi out. "The security at our wedding scared the life out of my family," she says. "They had never seen anything like it – burly security guards with earpieces in, checking the invites." None of the guests was allowed to leave without permission. "It is unnerving for your little old aunties who need the loo."

The second golden rule is to keep footballers and families apart at all costs. "They really must not mix. That's a disaster." Teenage cousins turn into wannabe WAGs intent on bagging a player; drunken uncles lurch over to their idols to tell them how much they love them. "My family did it," says Fabulous, who is from a small town. "Going up to certain very famous people, asking for autographs? It was embarrassing. The footballers don't want to know."

Some footballers buy so heavily into their new life of mansions and Baby Bentleys that they become reluctant to be seen with even a brother who is a brickie, or a mother who was a cleaner. "Players are ashamed of their families."

Luckily there are bouncers to keep them apart. And to keep Auntie Peggy out of the pictures. The magazine that is paying doesn't want her. It wants stars – even if they are not actually friends with the bride or groom. "Deals often depend on guaranteeing a certain quota of celebs," says Fabulous. "Even if you don't know them that well, you draft them in." She was offered money to attend a wedding, and says others have been, too. Was her price really £10,000, as she has claimed? "Maybe that was exaggerating a tiny bit."

Is she telling the truth at all then? Fabulous looks hurt. But she tells me the name of the player she was married to; I check out her stories and I'm convinced. He is still a famous name. They met when she was on a modelling assignment, as a 19-year-old, still dazed by the big city. "I didn't even know what I was letting myself in for."

The name WAGs was not used until the 2006 World Cup in Germany – when Victoria Beckham led the posse of wives and girlfriends on a sweep through the boutiques of Baden-Baden – but the culture had already been established. "A WAG has to be a wife, a girlfriend and a mother all rolled into one," says Fabulous. "The boys leave home and the club looks after everything. They go for a partner who can look after them as well: getting them out of bed in the morning, giving them the right sort of food, getting them out of the house. It's like having a great big, stroppy, insecure child."

Still, being the girlfriend of a small-time star was fun. They had a little dream home and a club Vauxhall Corsa. Then a legendary club came calling. "The first time we met the manager he said, 'It would be nice for you two to get married.'" It was an order, she says. "We were completely and utterly being told."

When her fiancé struggled to get into the team he doubted himself and turned on her viciously. "He changed the minute he signed on the dotted line," she says. "He just went Billy Big Time overnight." That meant obsessing about having the right clothes, car and home – and girlfriend – to avoid the derision of the stars he was trying to match. The WAGs were as merciless towards younger rivals. "I remember walking into the players' lounge for the first time. It was the most daunting thing ever. Everyone stops and stares. Everyone's checking out how big your ring is, what kind of watch you've got, what your bag is, what your shoes are. It's life and death." She laughs now, but she was desperate to be accepted. "I had no idea where I was. I didn't know anyone. He made me give up my job and I left my friends behind. I used to just drive around and cry my eyes out."

She paints the WAGs as being like a brutal playground gang, fuelled by rosé champagne and cocaine. The leaders – often soap stars, models or singers – can get you free clothes from boutiques that close while you choose. But the pressure to look exactly right is immense. "That means going to the gym, starving yourself, having your facial, your nails done, your hair done, spray tan, every week. It's full time. Then the shopping. Whatever the new thing is, you need it."

Why? Fabulous has an astute answer. "It's because nobody has a clue what's tasteful and what's not. You've got all this money but no idea what to buy. So everybody just copies each other or goes for the big name. That's why brands are so important. They think, 'If that costs more, or it's new, it's got to be better.'"

They lived in a lavish apartment with "faux Grecian flames", white leather sofas, a leopardskin chaise longue, 7ft suspended aquarium and a life-sized portrait of the couple. But their marriage got off to a really bad start when she turned on the television on the morning of the wedding and saw his face. He had been arrested after a scuffle with a photographer in the early hours. "The police loved it because he was famous. They kept him in for hours." She thought about "doing one, just running", but went through with it. "I wanted to kill him. I kept it together, though. I was there. He came down the aisle with a big smile saying, 'You look lovely.' Through gritted teeth I told him, 'I'll talk to you later.'"

The marriage was brief. "Once you're looking after them, they go off with someone else." They use their "bat phones": secret mobiles whose numbers they give to interested girls. "And on which they often receive X-rated pictures of those girls."

The end for Fabulous and her man came a few years ago, after they moved to another club, in a bigger city. "He was like a kid in a sweetshop, going out every night. The final straw came when he didn't come home for two days. I left with a plant under my arm that my grandad had given me, years ago." She had great luggage but no money. "As much as I could spend and have what I wanted, he never actually gave me cash. I had no independence. When I left, the black Amex card was stopped. He tried getting me back by phoning me up to ask how to work the dishwasher."

She lived on the generosity of a friend until the divorce settlement was reached. "I never wanted to be in that position again of having absolutely no money," she says. "With the money that I did get, I invested quite wisely. I'm a bit of a lady of leisure. I wouldn't want to work full time."

Perish the thought. Who would? What does she think of WAGs now? "After you're out of it, you realise how superficial it all is. Money is lovely but it doesn't buy you any kind of happiness at all." Fabulous has the luxury of having found that out for herself, of course. "That life is a pay-off," she says. "I know people who would not give it up for anything, whatever their bloke does to them. I just couldn't take it. I had moments when I really enjoyed it, but there were moments when I was really, really sad."