We are told, by some of the more optimistic of our fashion pundits, that the end of Covid will unleash a rush of extravagance and dandyism akin to that of a century ago, but in this we are unlikely to find the Vatican taking its rightful place at the cutting edge of contemporary culture. Say what you will about the Holy Father, his style is a trifle demure compared to that of his predecessor. No red leather slippers for him, alas.
Here at home, Commons Speaker Sir Lindsay Hoyle has reminded our elected representatives of the importance of formal dress, in time for their physical return, en masse, to the green benches. Too many of them, while speaking from their photo-booths, seemed to have paid less attention to their appearance than they would for a passport snap. But while lady MPs have always made a bit of an effort when dressing for Parliament, should we, or they, be satisfied if the men merely revert to the drab suit and sober tie they tossed into a corner at the start of their exile? Should we not demand better? Our Prime Minister has always had the air of a man who hires his clothes over the phone and dresses on the train, and his opposite number looks about as comfortable in his business rags as a body-guard at a gang-land funeral. Where’s the dash? Where’s the style? Surely the parliamentarian who opted for an ornamental waistcoat and some lavender spats would be a popular darling in no time?
