POST-JUBILEE, post no-confidence, Britain’s waking up to the truth that the ruling classes absolutely rule. Want to establish yourself as establishment? Slip into these:
Red trousers
Hello, Henry – jeans, chinos or Cotswolds chap corduroy, red is simply the natural colour for a trouser. Signifies danger, signifies heat, signifies leveraged debt. Step into Burberry’s Regent Street flagship and step out the other side red enough to stand out like a Tory rebel in a Blue Wall seat. Exactly why do the low-waged use food banks instead of selling a horse?
Excellent shirt
It could be white, or blue, and that’s the full spectrum of choices boys, don’t get greedy. White lines? Are for snorting. Remember the three Is: immensely expensive, intimately tailored, and from a former Imperial colony. I prefer Malaysia or anywhere in Tsim Sha Tsui, Hong Kong.
Carelessly-knotted scarf
Save your six-yard-deep silk tie collection to impress those who matter: CEO, oligarch’s daughter, duties manager at Royal Ascot. Dress down and seize the opportunity for a scrap of self-expression that isn’t wholly monetary. Warning: patterns only, never a picture, or you’ll look like a provincial art teacher on a dreadful little gallery day.
Jacket or blazer
A dizzying infinitude of options for the Tory donor. Piping or no piping? Brown or slate? And should the lining be bold or muted? Decisions like this can take a young man with capital reserves of a few million all morning when he should be bankrupting mum-and-dad Bitcoin investors and flipping their homes for short-term profit. Minted!
Sunglasses
Ray-Ban, either Wayfarers or Aviators. Crazy, but on the eyes Prada’s for the proles.
Hand-made loafers
Judge a man by his shoes, his income and his manners; you can buy the first. Go suede with leather soles to hammer home that you only walk from the restaurant to the purring Mercedes at the kerb. Always hand-made Italian, or in summer white slip-ons without socks are delectably obnoxious. They want to punch you, but you’re behind the velvet rope!
