PicoBlog

There are a few important stories I’d like to cover in The Closet this week, if you’ll indulge me. I want to talk to you about Saltburn and I feel duty bound to pay homage to London’s most stylish chef, who sadly left us last week. But before I do, a moment for party season.

Because like a rogue sequin balanced on the brink of a sweeping stair case, we’re teetering on the precipice of the festive event onslaught - and many of you have messaged to tell me how anxious you’re feeling about dressing for it.

To help, I thought I’d share my golden rules for peak party dressing. I’ve even thrown in some advice from a few of my most stylish friends for good measure, too. 

“It’s always better to err on the side of formality, especially when you’re over 35,” says New York’s party attender-in-chief Zachary Weiss, who favours Ralph Lauren and Thom Sweeney. “It’s a losing game to try to be the cool, young, hip guest, so I usually try to be the one that’s slightly more buttoned up than the rest of my fellow partygoers.”

“I like to throw in some irreverent touches so that I don’t look stuffy,” says Weiss. “This can be achieved with pops of colour or pattern, or, my favourite, a cheeky tie.” But take note: foppish accessories work best when they’re styled to look elegant rather than cartoonish. Try a classic four-in-hand nipped tight at the collar with a silk shirt and wide lapelled jacket, or a bow tie with a classic dress shirt and velvet blazer.

Velvet is everywhere right now - and for good reason. Not only is it super-flattering, by way of the dense fabric which soaks up the light and covers up all manner of stretching, pulling and unsightliness. There’s something also classically, unimpeachably chic about it - just look at the Gieves & Hawkes velvet jacket which Prince Harry wore to his wedding reception for proof.

You could even go for a full velvet suit if you’re feeling extra-festive. A chocolate brown number from Favourbrook is my personal favourite. In terms of fabric, avoid synthetics, obvs. Cotton is fine, silk is better. 

Whether you opt for a pair of sparkly Loewe slacks or a sequinned Dries van Noten shirt, an easy style win is to hedge your bets on a single statement piece and construct your look around it. ”Consider having one standout outfit - or garment -  in your arsenal.” Says Jack Guinness, author of The Queer Bible and Brand Director of Gay Star News. “But, chaps, there's also absolutely no shame in donning a timeless, understated look and jazzing it up with accessories (think: shirts, shoes, mullet).” 

“Don’t wear a Christmas jumper – it’s just not OK,” says ballet dancer Eric Underwood. “Rollnecks are your friend. They look great with or without a jacket and they’re simple yet chic.” Something fine gauge in silk, cashmere or merino will work best. Brown is my colour of the season, though black or navy will work just as well.

“Always wear fantastic shoes – even if they’re painful,” says Underwood. “My trick to making it through a lunch or dinner party unscathed is to slip your foot out of the shoes beneath the table, where no one can see them. You’ll already have been photographed, so there’s nothing lost by giving your feet a chance to breathe.” Low slung slippers should be your shoe of choice, IMO - nothing too preppy or dandy, ideally. Patent leather is ok at a push. 

“Ideally you want a cut a week or so before an event,” says my personal hair stylist Joe Mills of Woolf Kings Cross. “This gives you time to get used to the cut especially if it’s a departure from what you usually have. The haircut needs time to settle, and it also gives you the space to get used to styling it.”

“A few years back, while watching The Horrors perform, it dawned on me that if you stick with black, no one will notice if you're recycling your outfits (I'm not accusing them of doing this, mind you).” Explains Jack Guinness. “You just exude an air of effortless chic. This is the secret the fashion crowd won't tell you – when in doubt, wear black, and let your holiday spirit shine.”

Party planner Henry Conway agrees. “I have old favourites I’ll repeat often in the party season. Velvet jackets, a lot of Nehru, and accessories to change it up. I have 19 capes which I wear on rotation.”

I went to see Emerald Fennell's clash of the classes banger last weekend and I can’t stop thinking about it. Silly, twisty, deadly serious at times; it skewers the indolence of the English upper classes, it places a microscope on those who covet their privilege, and it’s nothing short of delicious. 

I should probably state up-front that there are some problems with Saltburn - there are a few slightly too conveniently placed plot points (no spoilers here, don’t panic) and the occasional unfleshed out character motivation here and there (why on earth, for instance, does Barry Keoghan’s character Olly do everything that he does? See, no spoilers) - but generally speaking, I loved it.

I think I enjoyed the film so much because it’s so completely and utterly nostalgic. Saltburn is set in 2007. The lead characters are in their first year of university in Oxford, the same year that I was in my second year at Leeds. As such, everything from the soundtrack (Bloc Party’s This Modern Love to MGMT’s Time to Pretend being highlights), to the way in which Olly (a boy from a middle class background, like I was/am) desperately wants to be a part of Felix’s world, brought back white hot memories of a wild, wonderful, discovery-filled - and occasionally anxiety-drenched - period of my life.

The clothes, jewellery and hairstyles too, come ready-injected with a heady dose of nostalgia. From Felix (Jacob Elordi) and his baggy jeans and rugby shirt combos, to the ill-fitting Moss Bros tuxedo worn by Olly to his college “bop” in the opening scenes - and not forgetting the perfectly placed eyebrow piercing which Elordi pulls off for the first half off the film with arch-sexual aplomb - all the style beats in Saltburn are perfectly, awkwardly, ridiculously redolent of a simpler time; a time when smartphones weren’t a thing and buying neon clothes was (somehow) seen as entirely acceptable. 

So, if you were born anywhere between 1984 and 1992, I implore you to go and see Saltburn this week - though fair warning, you’ll leave the cinema wanting an eyebrow piercing if you do. 

I was devastated to hear the news of Russell Norman’s untimely passing on Friday. The chef - who was perhaps best known for opening London’s coolest cicchetti joints, Polpo and Polpetto, in the mid noughties - was also my food columnist when I worked at Esquire. 

Russell was kind, clever and warm. He always filed his copy on time, the dishes he wrote about were delicious, and his words were always put together with a sprinkling of care and a dash of elan.

Which shouldn’t come as a surprise, because everything Russell did was stylish. His most recent restaurant opening Brutto was never without a waiting list, his cookbooks were so chic that many of them came without covers, and he dressed in a way that spoke of a devil-may-care attitude to life.

A fan of close-cut suits and worker boots, worn-in shackets teamed with immaculately unironed shirts, perfectly cut white jeans and impeccable tortoiseshell specs, Russell never had a hair out of place, and for that - among many other things - I shall miss him terribly. RIP.

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