The Queen visited NYC last Monday, the hottest day of the year – possibly of the
century. She wore a big hat, gloves and a dress’n’coat ensemble, befitting Dick
Emery at the height of his career.
Does anyone remember him, by the way? ‘You are AWFUL, but I like you!’
The sight of the Queen in her extraordinary outfit reminded
me again of the sartorial differences between our two lands. I’ve mentioned
before how women of the queen’s age dress in NYC, either eccentrically or in
the uniform, super-style of the city’s over 40s. Female TV newscasters (some
almost the same age as HM) were agog at her visit, rolling their eyes and
wondering how, in this day and age, she can still dress the way she does.
The answer lies in her DNA. The Queen does not care for such
passing fancies as botox, bleach or thin thighs. She is the absolute antithesis of New York Woman. I can draw
another comparison example from NYC in the form of the British consul, Sir Alan Collins and his
lovely wife Lady Sarah. Lucky enough to be invited to a cocktail reception for
the RSC at their gaff recently, I was just delighted to see a little bit of
England in action. The Sir Collin’s live in the heart of the Upper East Side
where NYC society is functioning at nervous break-down levels of competetiveness. Their apartment walls are discreetly
dotted with art originals. Hidden behind the pot plants, vases and tired
looking sofas are original Picassos, Constables and gawdknowswotelse. I
complimented Lady C on her art and she replied simply “Oh the paintings belong
to the diplomatic service, they just send them to us for a bit of decoration.”
Now, were these paintings on any other wall in the Lord
Collin’s neighbourhood, they would be the sole feature on a slate grey wall.
The wall might possibly have arrows on it pointing to the painting, or
something displaying the price tag nearby. There might even be a runway with
lights leading from the front door to the artwork and flunkies with landing
flags. Maybe Lady Collins attitude to the art might be different if she owned
it but I doubt it. Whatever we
Brits may be, we are not showy or brash. Our best works of art belong to the
nation and our Queen dresses how she wants. Now, that’s style.
Things would be perfect if we could all borrow the odd Picasso now and