It can be easy to forget that very, very posh people still exist in London. Unless you spend a significant amount of time in the more well-to-do parts of west London you’re unlikely to see these frothing thoroughbred ‘Sloaners’ swanning about. When you spot one it’s hard not to find yourself transfixed by every facet of their being. They appear frighteningly naive and cut off from the rest of the world; they’re so well-spoken and nasal it’s hard to fully understand what they’re saying; and they’re trapped in their own very traditional little fashion bubble, which hasn’t progressed one jot in at least the last three decades. Made in Chelsea, for me, is like a wildlife documentary show. Witnessing in detail how these people interact I know how David Attenborough feels when he discovers the hunting habits of a rare form of mountain tiger. Here is a breakdown of this intriguing species.
‘CAD‘
Hair: Slicked back from an protruding ‘fivehead’ (like a forehead but bigger) or flowing shoulder-length mop if ridiculously posh. Fingers running endlessly through it while attempting a ‘smouldering’ look
Hat: Polo helmet or heavily sun-faded baseball cap picked up on a sailing trip circumventing Malta. Union Jack bowler if attending the Last Night of the Proms
Top: Insipid Jack Wills Oxford shirt with three buttons undone to show off the glow of a fresh St Tropez tan. Or Ralph Lauren polo top with team number of the back (collar turned up if it’s the weekend)
Outerwear: Wearing a Barbour for a Chelsea male is no fad – it’s a way of life. The Biggles-style First World War fur-trim fighter pilot jacket is also popular among the more roguish cads
Trousers: Nothing says ‘My ancestors bathed in the blood of Rhodesian slaves’ more than a pair of baby blue or baby pink chinos in a classic cut
Footwear: Red moleskin loafers with tassels (the red shoe is a nod to emperors of the Byzantine Empire – their distant relatives). Prada trainers if in a ‘slumming it’ mood
Accessories: Argentinian polo belt, ethnic beads picked up on gap year nursing orphaned spider monkeys in Tibet, a cravat, Land Rover
Tattoos: No way. ‘Why put a sticker on a Lamborghini?’
Teeth: Enormous, bright white, protruding and framed by the world’s smuggest grin
‘FILLY‘
Hair: Feathered, layered, highlighted with 14 different shades of blonde before being curled, then straightened – so it ends up looking almost exactly as it did to start with, i.e. a bit thin and lank
Hat: What? Cover the ruddy hairdo? Only on race days, sweetie. A very small question-mark-shaped pink fascinator is acceptable for country weddings (‘OMG that is SO Eugenie!’)
Outerwear: Fur gilet made from 45 free-range mink. Or Grandmama’s Belstaff jacket if going on a ‘hunt’
Top/dress: Strapless chiffon dress that could have come from Reiss but definitely came from a one-off boutique on the Kings Road for three times the price. A loose-fitting Ralph Lauren shirt when in ‘chillax mode’
Footwear: Riding boots. Or a pair of Uggs if just popping to Harvey Nics
Accessories: Pashmina, three-litre bottle of Amor Amor by Cacharel, rosy cheeks, a horse
Tattoos: Very rare, but the more rebellious filly may have something poncy like the name of Grandmama’s favourite cat written in Swahili at the base of their spine
Teeth: Straightened by years of expensive orthodontistry, but slightly corroded after a dabble with bulimia
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