Cordings
CORDINGS CLAIMS TO CELEBRATE ‘understated British style’. Far be it from me to dispute the second half of that mission statement. There’s style aplenty, and it is, without question, very British indeed. But ‘understated’? I’ve a suspicion the mischievous marketing man had his tongue at least partly in his cheek when he came up with that. There’s nothing remotely understated about the veritable rainbow of trousers that can be procured here, in corduroy, needlecord, moleskin and gabardine, and in every conceivable hue from amethyst and apple green to peach and shocking pink.
Psychologists and sociologists could debate for hours the tendency of a certain kind of chap to make this detour into the outer realms of peacockery. What would not be up for discussion would be his eye for quality, which Cordings has in abundance. Renowned for its impeccable shooting gear – jackets, waistcoats, breeks, stockings and all the rest of the paraphernalia – it can just as easily supply complete looks for Twickenham, Cheltenham and Goodwood Revival. ‘Timeless’ and ‘ageless’ are the watchwords at Cordings. In the baronial splendour of its Piccadilly store, one is just as likely to encounter an embryonic Guards officer kitting himself out for Sandhurst as an elderly earl making one of his rare forays into the metropolis.
See also: Benson & Clegg, Oliver Brown, New & Lingwood
