Wednesday 12^th May 2010

I was mystified by this tea when the invitation came since Hardy Amies, leading British couturier of the post-War era who frocked the Queen, has been dead for some years. It turned out there is an exhibition at the Savile Row Salon of relics – letters from HM (at that precise moment about to be besieged by Prime Ministers, inconveniently, at the dinner hour)  and Princess Michael of Kent (‘Thank you so much for making me look so good in 1978’), fur trimmings from some of the Queen Mother’s duster coats, Sir Hardy’s medals, his invitations to Downing Street etc. Lionel Moore, TV producer of very famous drama serial in the 80s (wistful, melancholy, Larry in it), now 89, present and peering, said: ‘I threw away my invitation to Princess Diana’s funeral. They’re for sale on E-bay for £500, you know.’

Other guests in the white, grey and gold first floor show room (purring carpet in a greyhound shade): Anneka Rice, dressed as a cow girl, badges all over her suede jacket; Freddie Fox, hatter to Her Majesty; Lady Selina Hastings, biographer of Willie, Lady Farringdon, and ….Pamela Powell, widow of  Enoch – old-lady nun’s shoes, but excellent coiffure.

Speaking of which, the ladies’ hair was astonishing. Grand whooshed-up do’s, the faintest hint of mauve, French roll at the back, such as are never seen nowadays. In fact ladies absolutely finished, in tailored jackets with bound edges and court shoes – apart from Pam Powell, who said she was in a tizzy re: political crisis.

Eric Vaughan, partner of Lionel Moore, encountered at the Patrick Proctor Show a few weeks ago, said to Anneka: ‘I saw you on TV the other day.’ ‘It must have been a repeat,’ she said. She was astonished at Eric and Lionel’s state of preservation; it is true. They are how we should be if spared for that age, although Eric insisted that Lionel was not safe with a teacup and as we were leaving made him take off his Hardy Amies overcoat and give it to a young man to try on. ‘If anyone’s going to ruin the look of a garment, it’s you,’ he announced. But Lionel said earlier, ‘Should I have a blog?’ when I told him about mine. I think he should. He fought and fought to save Brighton nude beach and now he’s working night and day for Chickenshed – it’s a theatre outfit.

We recalled Sir Hardy, and Willie, Lady Selina Hastings, biographer of, having been present. Lionel said he’d been lounging at Cap Ferrat when he was 24 and someone came by and invited him to the Villa Mauresque (do wake up; surely you know the Villa Maur was home of Willie Somerset Maugham, best-selling author of his day, rolling, rolling in lolly). But they said there would be Bridge after dinner and Lionel thought that would be boring and didn’t go. He only realised afterwards that he was being procured, not knowing Willie at all, just being a stray young man at the Cap – where I am going for dinner in a few weeks time.

That’s how it is in these circles – huge grandeur, precise little sandwiches, mini-scones with cream and jam styled on – and a swirling undercurrent of filth. Lionel told me a rude story about Sir Hardy shocking a country doctor which I’d better not repeat. I sat next to him once at Lionel and Eric’s. He said, ‘It’s perfectly astonishing. They’ve done all this themselves.’ He meant the dinner. His other topics were the terrible grammar of the young and the varying lavatory experiences of the very old. Robert Nevil would know a fancy word for it.

Princess Michael of Kent's Gown on Display at Hardy Amies

Another Gown at Hardy Amies

A Suit From Hardy Amies

Black Corner at Hardy Amies