Last weekend I was going to a big dinner party in the country and I gave my outfit some considerable thought – particularly with regard how to balance the broad stripes on my Drakes tie with the small check on my Frank Foster shirt. The actual packing process was rushed, to say the least, but no matter, all the necessary elements made it into my bag.
When I woke up on Saturday morning the first thought that went through my mind was one of anticipation – only 12 hours before I could put together this dandyish outfit. The look, and I don’t throw the following phrase around lightly, was Duke of Windsor chic.
Come the appointed hour I put on the shirt, tied the tie, fixed the braces to my trousers, clambered into my suit, inserted and finessed the pocket square and then picked up the two Gaziano & Girling shoe bags I’d brought.
As I pulled out the shoes, however, my world fell apart. I’d brought two odd shoes, one brogue and one slip on. Both a similar colour, which explains why I mistook them for a pair, both beautiful, but not actually matching.
My evening spoiled, I threw down the shoes, changed the suit trousers for chocolate-coloured cords and pulled on a pair of deck shoes. Over dinner, however, the girl beside me knocked a glass of red wine into my lap, a fate I was happier to befall my Purdey cords than my Rubinacci suit trousers, and suddenly I wasn’t so bothered about my two odd shoes.
Words by Mansel Fletcher
Photography by Chloe Lederman