Dearest glamourpusses, faded aristos and fashblog Hogs,
The time has come to stand up and be counted. All around us, the citadels of style, taste and culture are crumbling. I type this from the plush backseat of a vintage Rolls gliding through Mayfair but let's not dwell on details. There are bigger things to think about.
The Knowledge Part 1
Gentlemen should not talk about their clothes. Ever. Bond Street dandies take note, you poor dears. A man's clothes are incidental. They should compliment his personality - not act as a substitute. He should dress with style, yes, but must never be caught loitering around his wardrobe for too long. His mind should be on his work or his woman.
The Knowledge Part 2
Bespoke. My man in Savile Row occasionally asks for my view. He's just being polite. One should never, ever, play the pedantic, indecisive Frenchman in these matters. Thou shalt not ask the cutter to leave while you change. Thou shalt not invite your wife/ mistress in for the fitting. Thou shalt not turn up in jeans and flip-flops. Thou shalt not buy Richard James R-T-W and tell your cohorts that it's Savile Row. Be a man.
The Knowledge Part 3
Style is ethereal and many-faceted. It is all-encompassing. Style means always dressing correctly for whichever occasion, whether formal or not. It also means treating ones household staff nicely. It means looking beyond the obvious and aiming for originality. It means comporting oneself with elegant nonchalance. One cannot buy style. It's there or it isn't.
Well, here we are at Claridges. Deco heaven. Whispered echoes of a bygone era soothing my very soul. There's a recession shaking the gates but what's a poor Duke to do? One must not let ones standards slip. More anon.
The Duke of Snarlborough xx
