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Transatlantic ties 

One of The Boy’s favourite duties is sorting out Dad’s ties. We learned our colours that way, and where else do you get to compare turtles and flamingoes in rainy Wales? It’s a gentlemanly bonding thing that’s special to us.

It’s possible that I may be slightly stylebound, but I am a fan of the classics when it comes to clobber. Some call it preppy: I call it timeless. I buy them vintage, paying peanuts, and thoroughly enjoy this little indulgence.

In the many lessons of apprentice gentlemanship that he’s absorbing is a little known detail.  He can now tell the difference between a British striped tie and the American version. Can you?

A clue: it’s nothing to do with labels.

Personal views of a wordsmithing, sartorialist, horn-playing, state school Oxonian dad, rugby ref, recovering politico, and fan of vintage tailoring, Ralph Lauren style, and sharp writing.

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