Inside the wardrobe of a student style icon: The art of a jumper
Before I use this mini-column to talk about the price of cheese or the purposeless of wasps (if any biology students can tell me what the point of wasps are, other than ruining summer, I’ll be very grateful), I thought it best to just explain my picture.
Normally I wouldn’t do this, but when I was chair during the late 1940s I made a speech which included a joke about the fact I wear jumpers. Nothing particularly interesting, or funny, about that except that it soon took a life of its own.
Standing in a queue for Toffs one night, a fellow Halifaxer asked me why I wasn’t wearing a jumper. My answer: I was going to a nightclub so why would I? This time I won’t make this mistake and I’ll tell you all outright, I don’t normally wear bow-ties. It all started as a conversation between Lauren (the editor), Helen (the better half) and me on what I should wear. I’d just read that the grandson of W. F. Deedes had a photograph of him altered by the editors in order to remove his bow-tie and look less posh.
So, either as a triumphant call for the return of the bow-tie or a demonstration of just how pretentious I have become, I’m dressed as like that.
The waist-coat, however, was just me being an arse (as my girlfriend can probably testify too) and at least it made a nice change from what I usually wear. As a liberated, twenty-first century man I naturally distance myself from old-fashioned clothing like the bow-tie and instead embrace the modernity that is…er…. the jumper. Well it was a nice try at the very least.
