Steering clear of titfer tat

In Bangkok at twelve o’clock they foam at the mouth and run, But mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun. Noël Coward knew a thing or two about the English psyche and the secret to our suave self-assurance. For like the sun himself, Coward always went out with his hat on. Whether in a Homburg about town, a brown Epsom in the country, or a pristine Panama aboard a P&O steamer en route East, the Master was not for burning. Sadly, that lesson has been lost to at least two generations of gentlemen, who happily go about bareheaded save perhaps for the brutalist embellishment of a baseball cap. THANKFULLY WE NOW ARE SEEING THE FIRST FLOWERING OF A HEAD-dress renaissance thanks to TV’s depiction of Wilkinson Sword-wielding…

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The Critic (Digital) - 1 Issue, May 2024

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