Gentry style

Whereas a gentleman carries an umbrella or a walking stick he “wears” a cane. The umbrella and the walking stick are functional accoutrements; but a gentleman’s cane is a finishing touch to his wardrobe. He should give equal attention to the selection of his cane as to his choice of wardrobe, the nature of the day’s business being uppermost in his mind.

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Always on the lookout for a modern take on the classic man’s wardrobe, I was lust-struck at first sight with Stockholm-based men’s clothier, Our Legacy. Part Tender is the Night, part aristocratic younger son, part sharp-eyed commonsensible Scandinavian designer – Our Legacy aims to provide neatly tailored shirts, comfy khakis and smart jackets that are playing the long game. In brief, you can grow old with grace in Our Legacy.

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The Cannes Film Festival was designed as a reaction against the ’suspicious’ dominance of the Italians and Germans at the the Venice Film Festival. Thus, it has always bestowed a deep critical affection upon daring storytellers not afraid to strut beyond the comfort zone of the industry. Such a desire to facilitate ‘the new’ and ‘the different’ has produced some remarkable winners, from Carol Reed’s shadow fable The Third Man to Roland Joffe’s attritional The Mission, and from Henri-Georges Clouzot’s nerve-shredding Le Salaire de la Peur to Apocalypse Now, Francis Ford Coppola’s masterwork. However, affording such dynamism means that for every twenty minute standing ovation, there is the equally renowned booing and catcalling. Studios order reshoots, producers make frantic calls to editors, directors reach for the bottle, ripping into flops at Cannes has become one of the festival’s more unseemly traditions. Thomas Clay’s reportedly unlikeable Soi Cowboy is the latest film to suffer the humilation of mass walkout, cruel whispers sealing it’s immediate fate. Gentry thinks it’s time to pay tribute to some of the movies that have received the notorious critical poo-pooing of Cannes.

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Proving that Essex boys really can do it better, these beareded maestros have produced one of the records of the year. Seemingly a flippant summer rant - all squelched beats and snarky chats - given a little time and consideration, ‘Angles’ has a lot to say and some way of saying it.
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One of the most remarkable sporting careers of the modern era is soon to draw to a close. Since his debut in 1985 for A.C. Milan, Paolo Maldini has been a consumate footballer, performing impossibly well with a peerless guile and panache for over twenty years. Maldini may well extend his remarkable era one more season as Milan look to regroup after a largely unsuccessful season. His tireless, energetic performance in the first leg of the champions league final against Arsenal confirms that, when necessary, he still has all the attributes to compete at the very highest level. Now is as good a time as any to say goodbye and look back at the career of perhaps the best defender ever to grace the field of play.

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Buffed by the anxious sleeve of hype, summer has, at last, arrived. All of a sudden a wave of warm air has hit the streets, slowing us down, hitting us with a lazy kind of motivation. So, the one thing every man needs in the heat is a good old pair of jeans: stylish, reliable and versatile. ONETrueSaxon offer some of the most adept, adaptable jeans around, fit for the beach, the barbecue or sipping away a long afternoon in town. Woven with one continuous cross-thread, the material does not fray or tatter readily, leaving them to mature and wear with more subtlety. Known to get better with each season, and cut to a gentle hug, this range of apparel looks great thrown on with a vintage t-shirt or pressed with something more formal. Resting coolly at the apex of high-style and low-maintenance, ONETrueSaxon take a pride in their garments that rubs off on whoever slips them on.

Celebrities have a long standing relationship with advertising. That is to say, they have a long standing relationship with money. From John Wayne’s wheezy endorsement of Camels, to Orson Welles’ slurred campaign for Paul Masson to Scarlett Johansson’s winsome Eternity ad, star power has always attracted the marketing men for that instant, orgasmic hit of recognition.
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A retrospective at London’s NFT celebrates the film career of Frank Sinatra. While he may have been Mr. Smooth on record, he was one of the fiercest and most intense of screen actors. Below, Gentry look back at the greatest movies of a true performer.

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Half the fun of leaving one’s flat in LA is ‘celebrity’ spotting. Admittedly, that’s usually like shooting fish in a tank, although on this trip, the celebrity pickin’s have been thinner that usual. Maybe it’s because everyone is back to work now that the writers’ strike is over, putting in a dishonest day’s labour? Maybe it’s because I don’t recognize the lowlier echelons of American t.v. celebrity who practically beg to be noticed in the cafes of Los Feliz? Whatever, my only star spottings have been a person who goes by the unlikely and cartoonish name of Lance Bass (he’s the gay one from N’Sync, and his eyes are beady and he’s spooky as hell) and Judy Garland in sexy black shorts and a white t-shirt.

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The first Saturday in May heralds the beginning of good times. Not only do we have the venerable Kentucky Derby – America’s most famous horse race, the first in the Triple Crown – but also the beginning of Mint Julep season, which extends throughout the steamy summer of the American south. Let’s hope that when the Queen visited Churchill Downs last weekend, fulfilling a lifelong ambition to attend the Derby, she was treated to this most potent and genteel of cocktails.

Mint Juleps are to Kentucky what vodka is to Russia. It’s as much a part of the culture as bluegrass, and on Derby day, the whole of America, from the Pacific Northwest to New England, sips this sweet bourbon treat in a nod to the old south. The winner of the Derby is officially toasted with a Mint Julep, though most of the onlookers will have done plenty of toasting long before the winner crosses the line.

According to lore, the Mint Julep was served on the Kentucky plantation of Senator Henry Clay, who brought the drink to Washington, D.C. in the 1850s, where it was – and happily still is – served at the wonderful old Willard Hotel, still an institution in the capitol.

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