7 reasons you’ve never been labelled as stylish

I’ve never really understood fashion. And in truth, until I started at The Gentleman’s Journal, I never really needed to – I spent more time in waders then I did loafers. I had no idea what monkstraps were and the way I pronounced Gieves & Hawkes made the style team ooze with hatred. But this LC:M just passed I found myself watching the Topman runway show, while sat next to our voguish Fashion Director (who wasn’t embarrassed to be seen with me), and enjoying it. And I was wearing a rollneck. And a polka dot pocket square. Oh how far I’ve come.

I’m not suggesting for one minute that I’m suddenly a seasoned pro – as I’m repeatedly told by said Fashion Director, one year of sartorial progress does not cancel out 25 years of getting dressed in the dark, sporting the look kindly coined as ‘walking into a car boot sale in double-sided tape and seeing what sticks’. But I got what the LC:M hype was about. The clothes on display were the opus of dedicated designers, showcasing their craft and talent. Photographers were snapping away with a fury that could have given a statue an epileptic seizure. Gandy and Guinness were looking on broodily. And when people clapped at the end they genuinely meant it – and so did I. It was a real show – no wonder it’s one of the highlights of the four days.

Style isn’t for all – it’s a hobby for some, an obsession for others. I can’t afford the latter, so I’m dabbling in the former (under the strict tutelage of said FD). And it turns out that small changes can make a fast difference, I’m told. Sadly my maroon jumper has been banished from the office, I have a shirt (gifted to me one Christmas by my father) that has been threatened with fire, and I once wore a belt that caused an old colleague to laugh to the point of tears. I haven’t worn it since. Not to forget the time I was asked to remove my weekend bag from our Art Director’s eyesight. (Thank God they never saw me in waders.)

But I’m on the gradual learning curve to sartorial suaveness, a turtle guided by hares. Now, if you’re already a fashionista, feel free to turn up your nose and hit the exit page – I can teach you nothing. But if, like me, you’re a relative amateur in the minefield of fashion, here are a few things that have helped me in recent months…

Let’s start with the details. I had heard this term ‘details’ being battered around the office, and begrudgingly enquired as to its meaning. I was met with an onslaught. Belts, socks, boxers… these matter, apparently. Here are some suggestions from a wiser mind: the small details that make a big difference.

I’ve long been guilty of seeking the single-figure haircut. Which, when you give it some thought, is rather odd. Why go to the barber and think you’ve robbed the system by walking away without having to break a tenner? Hair is as much a part of your look as your wardrobe get-up, so why settle for a £6 job that looks as if it’s been done with sheep shearers?

I’m not going to lie, there’s no rest once you get into the fashion game. The critics wait like ravenous crocs. If you think it’s just about clothes, think again. You’re very wrong my badly dressed friend. Your accessories need to meet the grade too – why bake a tasty cake and then use manure for icing? Weekend bags, rucksacks and laptop cases get judged, so get rid of that unkempt suitcase you take on holiday and please take the advice of those in the know.

Here I shall find alliance, whether you want to admit it or not. Why spend £300 on Chelsea boots when you can get them for £40, I hear you saying. Or how can Levi’s cost 10 times the amount of similar looking Primark jeans? The answer is longevity; more often than not you get what you pay for. Cheap shoes quickly lose their quality and need replacing, so close your eyes and don’t be scared to punch in your pin. Clothes and shoes are an investment.

No. Because you aren’t at the gym. Adidas Originals were cool about 10 years ago, although I’m told perhaps not even then.

If you’ve passed the age of 19 – i.e. your gap year is over – or you have a job that requires any hint of refinement, the beads and bangles need to go. I don’t want to be the person to crush your travelling mementos, but believe me, that glance you’ll receive in a meeting when your smelly, threadbare bracelet peeks from behind your cuff will cut you to the very core. It’s the “you should be extinct” look.

A simple shake of the head from our Fashion Director was all that was needed. Granted, on this particular morning it looked as if I had roly-polyed to work, but there’s no excuse. Get the iron out gents.

Here endeth the lesson. For now.

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