Red trousers are suffering a slow demise after becoming too
closely associated with the wrong sort
Hannah Furness By Hannah Furness10:00PM GMT 02 Mar 2016
They were once the hallmark of the well-heeled gentleman,
perhaps enjoying a Pimms on the lawn of their Oxbridge alma mater or visiting a
country show.
But the simple pleasure of a pair of red trousers could soon
be a things of the past, after they became a victim of their own success.
Red trousers have become so “stigmatised”, experts say, that
their association with hooray Henry-types has left owners too shy to wear them.
The issue has reached such a nadir that their cause has been
taken up by Country Life magazine, which is campaigning to bring them back in
all their unapologetic glory.
In a passionate plea issued in this week’s edition, it
states: “It’s time to take back the red trouser, to reclaim and celebrate it.”
Tracking the problem, it suggests that “inverted snobbery”
has been the root of the problem, compounded by a tongue-in-cheek blog poking
fun at those who wear red trousers and – finally – their adoption by hipsters.
Adrian Holdsworth of Volpe, famed for making Michael
Portillo’s colourful jackets and Henry Blofeld’s suits, said he had noticed
they were now “struggling to sell” red trousers.
“I think they have become stigmatised,” he said. “They have
become associated with a certain type of person and for that reason people have
become scared of wearing them.
“I fear that red trousers have taken such a pounding they
may be beyond repair.”
" It’s time to take back the red trouser, to reclaim
and celebrate it"
Country Life
Richard Harvie, of Harvie & Hudson, told Country Life
cornflower blue now appeared to be taking over from red in the trouser
department, selling “fantastically”.
The demise of the red trouser may not be a surprise to followers
of fashion.
In 2013, a poll by YouGov found they were already struggling
in the popularity stakes, with just 12 per cent of people associating them with
a positive response.
Instead, the survey found the words most commonly springing
to mind including “toff”, “hipsters” and “yuk”.
A robust in this week’s Country Life argues they should now
be brought back in the fold.
Arguing they are still worn by “decent, upstanding chaps
with names such as Henry or Giles”, it added fans of the red trouser should not
allow their reputation to deter them.
“Our terracotta warriors must raise the scarlet standard
high,” it said.
“Our menfolk will wear them on the beaches (yes, ever in 32C
heat). They will wear them in the fields, in the streets of Fulham and Putney
and in the hills.
“May they never surrender them.”
In defence of red trousers
Flora Watkins
March 4, 2016
Love them or loathe them, red trousers are a peculiarly
British sartorial obsession says Flora Watkins.
At Conservative headquarters, there’s only one image
guaranteed to send press officers into a tailspin and it has nothing to do with
that picture of the Prime Minister hunting with the Heythrop or Lord Ashcroft’s
smuttier allegations. No, the real smoking gun would show David Cameron
‘chillaxing’ in raspberry red trousers. But it doesn’t exist. We know this
because, in a BBC radio interview before the election, the Prime Minister felt
compelled to confirm that he doesn’t own a pair.
In this, Mr Cameron may well be unique among the Chipping
Norton set. Red trousers have become standard wear for the country gentleman—the
type who drives up in a superannuated Land Rover Defender, two flatulent
labradors fogging up the windows— both at home and in town. They are seen in
the London SW postcodes along the District Line, on dear old things at Lord’s
and at Cheltenham, in Stewards’ at Henley, at High Mass in Brompton Oratory and
the debentures’ seating at Twickenham (although it’s always ‘Twickers’).
They’re beloved by Sir George Young, the bicycling baronet,
and Ed Stourton, erstwhile presenter of the Today programme (indeed, they may
have been a factor in why this Old Amplefordian was pushed out). They’re seen
around the grander Oxbridge colleges during interview season and in the bar of
the Royal Agricultural University in Cirencester.
They’re worn by decent, upstanding chaps with names such as
Giles or Henry, the sort whose heads are hard-wired to leap to their feet when
a lady enters the room. Among these heralds of the red dawn is Atty
Beor-Roberts, a partner at Knight Frank, who has even worn his red trousers on
holiday in Corfu and ‘also likes pink and yellow’ trews. Then there’s
cricketing legend Henry Blofeld, who declares: ‘I love coloured trousers and
have a huge number. I wear them in the Test Match Special box and it’s become a
sort of joke. People half expect it, so why not?’ Blowers credits his Italian wife, Valeria,
with livening up his ‘rather boring’ khaki wardrobe. For her, red trousers are
the mark of ‘a certain English eccentricity, a man who is comfortable in his
own skin’. That’s a view echoed by the better halves of many a man who flies
the red flag.
image:
https://keyassets.timeincuk.net/inspirewp/live/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2016/03/red-trousers-bicycle.jpg
‘They’re trustworthy and they have to be confident,
especially since there’s been a bit of a backlash,’ asserts Victoria Thirlwell,
who’s engaged to Nick Jenner, who farms near Cirencester. ‘Nick hadn’t actually
worn jeans as an adult until relatively recently and his holiday “shorts” are a
pair of cut-off yellow cords.’ Another girlfriend, with a husband of impeccable
pedigree (Eton, Sandhurst, Scots Guards), concurs: ‘A naturalborn sporter of le
pantalon rouge wears them as he does his deeply ingrained good
manners—lightly.’ How is it, then, that this most jovial and jolly of fashions
came to be so maligned? They’ve been gently mocked for years by a cheekily
named blog, the name of which isn’t fit to repeat in a quality publication.
And a survey by pollster YouGov found that 46% disliked red
trousers, with 24% not approving ‘at all’. It’s unfair, contends Peter York,
author of The Official Sloane Ranger Handbook, as the typical red-trouser wearer
is ‘fun-loving, often very refreshed; blokes who might think of themselves as a
bit rebellious and aren’t at all’. But he’s quick to add that he doesn’t have a
pair, admitting instead to owning some amethyst-coloured cords that he ‘bought
for Jeremy Clarkson’s New Year party’.
Inverted snobbery is certainly the root of much of the
hostility towards what has become the default mufti for the officer class.
‘Sloane’ fashion often has a military origin, explains Mr York, viz the crimson
trousers that are the mess dress of the King’s Royal Hussars. And red trousers
are the obvious option for the many men who won’t wear denim— understandable
when you consider that the Scots Guards rulebook states jeans must not be worn
in town. Ultimately, adds Mr York, it’s an extension of the Sloane fashion of
wearing country clothes in town and it’s due to the internet that the
‘country-kitchen-suppers life of red trousers has gone global’.
Overexposure has done for the red trouser, harrumphs the
royal historian and commentator Rafe Heydel-Mankoo (six pairs), over drinks at
the Carlton Club. Since both hipsters and social climbers— ‘akin to the
Sebastian Flyte wannabes of the 1980s, carrying teddy bears around Oxford’—have
appropriated them, he’s put his red trousers at the back of the wardrobe ‘until
they become unfashionable again’. Mr Heydel-Mankoo now looks for a flash of red
sock to discern whether a chap is clubbable and prefers his trousers in a
bright cornflower blue.
Indeed, on a field trip to Jermyn Street to research this
article, a number of gentlemen’s outfitters confirmed that sales of red
trousers are in decline. Red trousers are now laden with so much baggage that
Blowers’ tailor, Adrian Holdsworth of Volpe, admits he ‘struggles to sell them’
and Richard Harvie of Harvie & Hudson says cornflower blue ‘has taken over
from red’ and is ‘selling fantastically’.
Cornflower, it seems, is the new red. But enough! It’s time
to take back the red trouser, to reclaim and celebrate it before it becomes as
debased as the Burberry check once was. Let’s hear it for the
ruddy-trousered—and faced—farmers and retired High Court judges. Let’s hear it
for raspberry jumbo cords at Badminton worn with Dubarry boots and a Schoffel
fleece.
Let’s hear it for officer cadets dressed down with gaucho
belts and brown shoes. Let’s hear it for the elderly gentleman in the Panama at
Lord’s, who nods off after lunch, is woken by the applause for Alastair Cook’s
century and leaps to his feet spluttering ‘What the…?!’, sloshing Pouilly-Fumé
over his mulberry moleskins. Our terracotta warriors must raise the scarlet
standard high. Our menfolk will wear them on the beaches (yes, even in 32˚C
heat). They will wear them in the fields, in the streets of Fulham and Putney
and in the hills. May they never surrender them!
1 comment:
The dark burgundy slacks still look very smart.
The pale pink does not.
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