Every self-respecting gent these days is sporting a gilet. Don’t laugh. The gilet has come along leaps and bounds; you can’t tar it with the same brush as the Schöffel ‘Chelsea Life Jacket’ which is worn by the Hooray Henrys who guffaw at dinner parties twinned with their strawberry corduroy trousers. 

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The gilet is the height of sophistication. It is worn by the finance bros, the best-looking dad on the school run, the recently retired silver fox barrister you met at the ‘locals’ drinks party last Christmas and the gruff farmer who is so rich he really shouldn’t be that dour for goodness’ sake.  

It might even be worn by your husband and by the accountant who lives in the next-door village in that house his wife spent so much money on, he now can’t sell. Wearing that herringbone gilet helps him in more ways than one: it’s tough being married to an interior designer as they’re always changing the kitchen and looking at new sofas that cost practically the same as the deposit he had to put down for Fifi at........

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