The Forgotten Best Dressed

Pigeon-holing people is satisfying and necessary. Determining whom our friends, neighbours, colleagues and relatives look like and sound like; whether their political and religious beliefs and educational background make them left-leaning, right-leaning or somewhere in between, is important; so is an assessment of their earning power, which dictates whether they wear Accurist or Audemars Piguet on their wrists and Converse or Christian Louboutin on their feet. The act of placing people into cultural cubbyholes is generally considered helpful. It enables us to ascertain our role within the various groups we daily navigate. Moreover, the act is instinctive and universal, so our collective culpability renders us guiltless of any charges of insensitivity. Categorising is certainly innate, but Mark Pagel’s Wired For Culture inclines me to think that pigeon-holing and people watching is more Machiavellian than mild; they are advantageous and evolutionary-refined strategies through which we sort friends from enemies, the useful from the useless.[i] The need to classify, which stems from our drive to survive, explains the enduring appeal of status lists that rank the best and the worst, the boring and the wonderful, even if the compilation criteria often seems arbitrary.

A Best Dressed Briton

A few months ago, nine fashion experts and me were asked to nominate our ‘Best Dressed Briton’ for a feature in the October edition of BBC History Magazine (see image above).[ii] My nominee obviously had to be British, but to ensure the poll provided a suitable chronological coverage, I was also asked to suggest somebody from the Middle Ages (which effectively limited my search to England). The exercise caused me to think generally about significant sartorialists from the past who do not typically feature in ‘best dressed’ compilations. I was only able to nominate one person for the BBC poll, so here are three other contenders whose wares warrant more attention than they typically receive.

Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy (1396-1467)

Burgundy was one of the most powerful kingdoms in the later Middle Ages and its dukes used art, ceremony and fashion to exalt their authority; none more so than Duke Philip.[iii] Following the bloody assassination of his father, John the Fearless, at the hands of the French in 1419, Philip apparently wore black for the rest of his life. Black was more than symbol for mourning, however. By donning this expensive and much sought after cloth, Philip was sending a message to the French king, Charles VII, that he would have his revenge. Philip’s preference for black influenced sartorial vogues across north-western Europe and the colour remained popular well into the sixteenth century, particularly in Spain.[iv] The elegance and sophistication of black garments is still widely recognised today. When contemporary consumers opt for black, they recognise and enjoy the same body-altering properties that the colour possessed for stylish men and women in the Middle Ages. It would be interesting to speculate whether the Little Black Dress would have been conceived without Duke Philip’s sartorial legacy.

King Charles II of England (1630-1685)

Often regarded as the ‘Merry Monarch’, Charles II is famed for his frolicking, feasts and fashion. On 7 October 1666, the king issued a radical clothing ordinance that did away with breaches and gowns. In place of this ostentatious raiment, male courtiers were now expected to wear a vest and coat. Charles’ clothing reform is significant for several reasons. Firstly, it determined the basic structure of menswear for the next three hundred years. Through these reforms Charles created an embryonic three-piece suit. Secondly, the reform promoted sobriety and championed the English wool trade. Thirdly, by rejecting French vogues, Charles created a fashion that made England appear culturally and politically distinct; the monarch became a fashion icon and, by association, English clothing styles gained newfound respect.[v]

Alain Delon (1935-)

The French-Swiss actor is undoubtedly the best-known of my ‘forgotten’ fashion icons. In April, he was featured as a ‘Style Setter’ on Mr Porter.[vi] However, to an Anglophone audience Delon’s films – even his most famous, Rocco And His Brothers (1960) and Il Gattopardo/The Leopard (1963), both of which were directed by Luchino Visconti – are probably still little known. Delon was called to Hollywood, but never mastered the English language sufficiently to become the leading star that his looks would have easily made possible. English grammar may have been unfathomable to Delon, but he was a careful student of English vogues and wore simple, traditional styles with a casual, occasionally arrogant, confidence. The 1950s and 1960s were a period of pronounced social and political disturbance and Delon was instrumental in demonstrating how conventional and long-established garments and outfits could become contemporary and relevant when infused with a bit of continental charm. Many of the street-styled men at Pitti Uomo appear to have been influenced by Delon’s aesthetic.

My Nominee

King Henry III of England was my nominee for the BBC History Magazine’s ‘Best Dressed Briton’ feature. The choice is slightly inaccurate, for Henry was as English as Philip the Good of Burgundy; his family descended from the counts of Anjou. In any case, Henry stood out for me as the most sartorially splendid and savvy from England’s medieval past.

King Henry III of England (1207-1272)

The fourth longest reigning monarch in British history, Henry III was an aesthete who used art and fashion to enhance his authority. Henry is the first English king for whom we have detailed household records describing the purchase of his clothes and jewellery. Royal accounts contain a detailed description of the king’s coronation and burial garments, which were fashioned from red samite, a heavy gold embroidered cloth.[vii] They also describe garments that reveal Henry III had a keen eye for detail. For Easter 1235, Henry III had three sets of garments made. The first were of burnet, an expensive and dark (blue) fabric, trimmed with miniver. The second set was made of murray, a brown cloth, trimmed with vair. The third set was made of green cloth and trimmed with the grey and red spring fur of the northern squirrel.[viii] Henry III was probably one of the first kings to really acknowledge the significance of sartorial style in politics. When he was trying to persuade his barons to cough up funds to support his second son’s planned conquest of Sicily, Henry had the boy dressed in a set of Sicilian coronation garments. The spectacle would have been doubly impressive as the meeting occurred in Westminster Abbey, which Henry was in the process of transforming. So, when contemporary politicians wear lapel pins and purple ties, they are really following King Henry’s lead.

The evolutionary imperative to pigeon-hole explains why the results of ‘best’ lists are frequently contested. When it was released, the BBC’s poll, which includes people as diverse as David Bowie and Ellen Terry, was criticised for not including the Duke of Windsor. My own addendum may well be criticised for only mentioning men and still failing to mention Person X, Person Y or Person Z, ‘who really should have been picked up in an offbeat league such as this’. But we cannot please everyone, as the lengthy email volley between a colleague and me about Henry III’s position in the BBC best dressed list goes to show….

Appendix