Cold Cuts, Warm Heart
With presence, bearing and a perfectly tailored trouser, the Matriarch is always there for her family and colleagues. But where is her recognition?
If a man wishes to stand out in a suit, he needs it not only to fit beautifully but to exhibit some flourish by which other men’s eyes are caught. For women, the wearing of a suit is its own statement of intent — an opportunity to express idiosyncrasy in clothing that the world otherwise regards as conformity. Imagine, therefore, what can be gained when she does not stop there: why limit oneself to prosaic sartorialism when there is much more fun to be had, as though dressing up were a passionate encounter rather than a kiss on the cheek.
The Matriarch agrees, and takes full advantage of what is on offer, with suits that both flatter her and amalgamate her personality into a cohesive ensemble.
You have to remember that the Matriarch doesn’t like to be too well known, but at the same time she doesn’t hide her light under a bushel. The onlooker will be caught out and spoon-fed an opinion, and with proper proportions — a lapel exactly the right width, a boutonnière sprouting forth, and high-waisted trousers — the review will be criticism-proof.
At work, the Matriarch is both formidable and approachable: not one to have a drink with the team afterwards but certainly one to cover the tab. At home, everything is family, church on Sundays, an Australian Labradoodle (Moose) who needs walking, children with brushed hair and sons who have been taught from an early age the values by which good men have lived in the past.
Her house in Petersham, in south-west London, is a haven of Nina Campbell and Rifat Ozbek, fireplaces and coffee-table books. It is good taste in the old-fashioned mould, with not a sniff of the Dubai-esque craving for newness or excess. There is no teasing out of a dormant wild child — those days are done, and it is time to be a grown-up. The Matriarch embraces that more than anyone.
Her home exhibits good taste in the old-fashioned mould, with none of the Dubai-esque craving for newness.
Depending on the season, her tailoring is either English or French, her shirts are all Charvet, and her bags are from Métier. If there is a resemblance to the Princess of Wales in presence and bearing (not to mention style choices), it is no coincidence, yet the Matriarch is the O.G. Naturally, she says nothing about that, remembering the lesson her mother taught her: “Those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.” Shooting invitations in the post will just as likely be for her as for her spouse, and she is always invited along for the good company she provides.
She has a refined palate for all the things we love. She can tell you if the cigar is aged, if the wine is Burgundy or Bordeaux, and if the cheese is Italian (which is her preference). She places great emphasis on good nibbles and comforting chocolate. At a dinner party, guests want to feel able to start helping themselves to something; rather than a grand pudding, she throws a selection of Birley chocolates onto the table. And, of course, smoking is allowed indoors as soon as the ‘Smoke’ candle from Evermore is lit. The energy required to manage these multiple facets would stop most people in their tracks, but the Matriarch can take them in her stride, with barely a hair out of place, with a trouser perfectly pressed, and a watch perfectly chosen. Most pertinently, she does all this without the credit she deserves — so may she (or you) have found it here.
