Bertie Wooster, Milady’s boudoir & Me
A bright spring morning on Horse Guards Parade and my valet and I are being politely pursued towards an awaiting Rolls-Royce by a determined- looking police officer. He has a gun… and it seems we haven’t parked entirely legally.
Perhaps I should explain. I am here with my valet (in fact, The Lady’s resident household expert, John Giles- Larkin) and an exquisite Rolls-Royce (borrowed) to celebrate a very special literary link – between The Lady and PG Wodehouse’s timeless comedy double act, Jeeves and Wooster.
As fans of the books will know, Bertie Wooster was never much of a grafter. But one of his (very) few jobs was as a correspondent for a magazine a lot like this one.
The periodical, Milady’s Boudoir, was edited by Bertie’s colourful Aunt Dahlia, who commissioned – in Chapter 9 of Carry On, Jeeves – his first, and doubtless last, work of reportage. It was entitled: ‘What The Well- Dressed Man Is Wearing’.
More importantly, however, Milady’s Boudoir – located ‘in one of those rummy streets in the Covent Garden neighbourhood’ – was reportedly inspired by The Lady.
Bertie’s article, penned for the magazine’s Husbands And Brothers page, certainly wasn’t going to win any awards. When he asks Jeeves to read over it, his valet’s unspoken verdict is damning.
‘I watched him narrowly as he read on,’ relates Bertie, ‘and, as I was expecting, what you might call the lovelight suddenly died out of his eyes.’
Bertram Wilberforce Wooster, however, was never cut out for the petty inconveniences of working life. He was, after all, a member of what Wodehouse dubbed the ‘idle rich’. But what would it be like to spend the day as a modern-day Bertie, exploring the world of the well-dressed man and travelling in untrammelled luxury across London to the ‘rummy streets’ of Covent Garden?
Well, in the uncompromising spirit of investigative journalism we decided to find out – at the wheel of a buffed and polished Rolls-Royce, delivered to our door by a delightful gentleman named Colin.
Staying true to Bertie’s article, John (now in his finest butler’s suit) and I began our adventure at the spiritual home of the ‘well-dressed man’ – Savile Row. Dege & Skinner has been based here since 1865 and now boasts three Royal Warrants: from HM The Sultan of Oman (1981), HM The Queen (1984) and HM The King of Bahrain (2003).
The tailors dressed the peers of the realm at the Queen’s 1953 coronation and have crafted some of Prince Harry’s most dashing military uniforms. They’re certainly capable of cutting my cloth. They had already measured me up earlier in the week, so after a few final tweaks, I was ready to step into one of their extremely fine suits.
In the proper parlance, it was an 11/12oz single-breasted, two-button, double-vented number, made from a tailoring bunch called The Glorious Twelfth. Cut by the splendidly named Nicholas De’Ath, it sounded impressive – and it was. Bertie would have been green with envy.
Suitably suited and booted, we hopped back in the Rolls and visited those other impeccably well-dressed men, the Household Cavalry. Even Bertie Wooster wouldn’t have been granted permission to drive across spectacular Horse Guards Parade, site of the annual Trooping of the Colour, so we parked up and hurried on foot across the parade ground to pose for our portraits with one of the dazzlingly dashing guardsmen.
Trouble was, we’d parked on a double yellow line – resulting in the challenge from the armed policeman. I’m sure sillier excuses have been made to the police, but imagine explaining that ‘Bertie Wooster once wrote an article for a fictional magazine that was reportedly based on The Lady, which I am the editor of, which is why we’re now doing an updated PG Wodehouse photo shoot, which requires me to rush across Horse Guards Parade in a Savile Row suit and park my Rolls-Royce on a double yellow… etc.’
Still, he was most understanding and charming. Perhaps the suit (along with the valet and the Rolls-Royce) made me more convincing. Next stop, refreshments at the splendidly stylish Savoy Hotel, just around the corner from The Lady on London’s Strand. Looking spiffy is thirsty work, so Jeeves (I mean, John) served tea while I limbered up my fingers with a tinkle on the piano. The other guests looked on, baffled. As did John.
And from thence to The Lady, where our own ferocious Aunt Dahlia, played by the wonderful actress and writer Helen Lederer, read the first draft of this very article.
And her verdict? Well, let’s just say that the ‘love-light’ faded from her eyes. Never mind. As Bertie had discovered over and again, there aren’t many problems that can’t be fixed by some natty tailoring, a spry, stylish motor and a man of one’s own. If only I could afford to give up the day job…
The car is a Rolls-Royce Ghost Extended Wheelbase: 01243-384000, www.rolls-roycemotorcars.com
Suit and accessories by Dege & Skinner, Savile Row: 020-7287 2941, www.dege-skinner.co.uk
The Savoy Hotel: 020-7836 4343, www.fairmont.com/savoy-london
Looking for staff? Contact The Lady Recruits on 020-7379 4717
Jeeves & Wooster in Perfect Nonsense is booking until 20 September at London’s Duke of York’s Theatre, St Martin’s Lane: 0844-871 3051, www.atgtickets.com
But this is also very much a driver’s car. In the slow-moving city, it motors like a Mini. Its colossal engine is forgiving and restrained – Arnold Schwarzenegger in a nun’s habit. It is astonishingly manoeuvrable, too. Thanks to an array of cameras and beeps, it slips into even the tightest spaces. It even warns you when a pedestrian or animal strays into the road. Put your foot down, however, and the 6.6-litre V12 engine erupts, carrying you –and your extended family – from 0-62mph in 4.9 seconds and on to a breathtaking 155mph. And the best thing? It’s so smooth, so quiet, so sophisticated that a new-born baby would sleep through it all.
Is this the best car in the world? Probably.
Perhaps I should explain. I am here with my valet (in fact, The Lady’s resident household expert, John Giles- Larkin) and an exquisite Rolls-Royce (borrowed) to celebrate a very special literary link – between The Lady and PG Wodehouse’s timeless comedy double act, Jeeves and Wooster.
As fans of the books will know, Bertie Wooster was never much of a grafter. But one of his (very) few jobs was as a correspondent for a magazine a lot like this one.
The periodical, Milady’s Boudoir, was edited by Bertie’s colourful Aunt Dahlia, who commissioned – in Chapter 9 of Carry On, Jeeves – his first, and doubtless last, work of reportage. It was entitled: ‘What The Well- Dressed Man Is Wearing’.
More importantly, however, Milady’s Boudoir – located ‘in one of those rummy streets in the Covent Garden neighbourhood’ – was reportedly inspired by The Lady.
Bertie’s article, penned for the magazine’s Husbands And Brothers page, certainly wasn’t going to win any awards. When he asks Jeeves to read over it, his valet’s unspoken verdict is damning.
‘I watched him narrowly as he read on,’ relates Bertie, ‘and, as I was expecting, what you might call the lovelight suddenly died out of his eyes.’
Bertram Wilberforce Wooster, however, was never cut out for the petty inconveniences of working life. He was, after all, a member of what Wodehouse dubbed the ‘idle rich’. But what would it be like to spend the day as a modern-day Bertie, exploring the world of the well-dressed man and travelling in untrammelled luxury across London to the ‘rummy streets’ of Covent Garden?
Well, in the uncompromising spirit of investigative journalism we decided to find out – at the wheel of a buffed and polished Rolls-Royce, delivered to our door by a delightful gentleman named Colin.
Staying true to Bertie’s article, John (now in his finest butler’s suit) and I began our adventure at the spiritual home of the ‘well-dressed man’ – Savile Row. Dege & Skinner has been based here since 1865 and now boasts three Royal Warrants: from HM The Sultan of Oman (1981), HM The Queen (1984) and HM The King of Bahrain (2003).
The tailors dressed the peers of the realm at the Queen’s 1953 coronation and have crafted some of Prince Harry’s most dashing military uniforms. They’re certainly capable of cutting my cloth. They had already measured me up earlier in the week, so after a few final tweaks, I was ready to step into one of their extremely fine suits.
In the proper parlance, it was an 11/12oz single-breasted, two-button, double-vented number, made from a tailoring bunch called The Glorious Twelfth. Cut by the splendidly named Nicholas De’Ath, it sounded impressive – and it was. Bertie would have been green with envy.
Suitably suited and booted, we hopped back in the Rolls and visited those other impeccably well-dressed men, the Household Cavalry. Even Bertie Wooster wouldn’t have been granted permission to drive across spectacular Horse Guards Parade, site of the annual Trooping of the Colour, so we parked up and hurried on foot across the parade ground to pose for our portraits with one of the dazzlingly dashing guardsmen.
Trouble was, we’d parked on a double yellow line – resulting in the challenge from the armed policeman. I’m sure sillier excuses have been made to the police, but imagine explaining that ‘Bertie Wooster once wrote an article for a fictional magazine that was reportedly based on The Lady, which I am the editor of, which is why we’re now doing an updated PG Wodehouse photo shoot, which requires me to rush across Horse Guards Parade in a Savile Row suit and park my Rolls-Royce on a double yellow… etc.’
Still, he was most understanding and charming. Perhaps the suit (along with the valet and the Rolls-Royce) made me more convincing. Next stop, refreshments at the splendidly stylish Savoy Hotel, just around the corner from The Lady on London’s Strand. Looking spiffy is thirsty work, so Jeeves (I mean, John) served tea while I limbered up my fingers with a tinkle on the piano. The other guests looked on, baffled. As did John.
And from thence to The Lady, where our own ferocious Aunt Dahlia, played by the wonderful actress and writer Helen Lederer, read the first draft of this very article.
And her verdict? Well, let’s just say that the ‘love-light’ faded from her eyes. Never mind. As Bertie had discovered over and again, there aren’t many problems that can’t be fixed by some natty tailoring, a spry, stylish motor and a man of one’s own. If only I could afford to give up the day job…
The car is a Rolls-Royce Ghost Extended Wheelbase: 01243-384000, www.rolls-roycemotorcars.com
Suit and accessories by Dege & Skinner, Savile Row: 020-7287 2941, www.dege-skinner.co.uk
The Savoy Hotel: 020-7836 4343, www.fairmont.com/savoy-london
Looking for staff? Contact The Lady Recruits on 020-7379 4717
Jeeves & Wooster in Perfect Nonsense is booking until 20 September at London’s Duke of York’s Theatre, St Martin’s Lane: 0844-871 3051, www.atgtickets.com
STILL THE BEST OF BRITISH?
So what’s it like to drive a Rolls-Royce Ghost? Well, it’s a little like being at the helm of a glorious tall ship. Or a crystal-encrusted space craft. It really is that special. And that’s despite the depressing tangle of commuter traffic that confronted me as I tried to escape London. This Extended Wheelbase version is the ultimate limousine. The interior, all rich leather smells and exquisite craftsmanship, cocoons you, nurtures you. Forget the destination; this is all about the journey.But this is also very much a driver’s car. In the slow-moving city, it motors like a Mini. Its colossal engine is forgiving and restrained – Arnold Schwarzenegger in a nun’s habit. It is astonishingly manoeuvrable, too. Thanks to an array of cameras and beeps, it slips into even the tightest spaces. It even warns you when a pedestrian or animal strays into the road. Put your foot down, however, and the 6.6-litre V12 engine erupts, carrying you –and your extended family – from 0-62mph in 4.9 seconds and on to a breathtaking 155mph. And the best thing? It’s so smooth, so quiet, so sophisticated that a new-born baby would sleep through it all.
Is this the best car in the world? Probably.