For 50 years, I’ve avoided wearing anything resembling formal tennis kit but in a rather lame way, I’ve been seduced by the current tenniscore fashion movement. Although tennis is my only sport, I’ve never owned whites, but a rather fabulous white – actually ecru – tennis ‘skort’ has arrived in the post. I only just prevented myself from adding a V-neck white sweater with navy trim to the order. Now I’ve just got to get on the court for the first time this year and stop with the shopping. Sadly, there is absolutely no resemblance at all between how I look in this hybrid of shorts and skirt to the gorgeous Zendaya, female star of the new Luca Guadagnino film Challengers. And it’s not only Zendaya in her little tennis dresses who hits the spot. Josh O’Connor and Mike Faist, the two male leads, drip with testosterone-laden sensuality. They bring a whole new level of attraction to the game. Even though male tennis players are often incredibly good-looking, Guadagnino’s stylish direction has upped the level of male racquet candy considerably. Whoever thought huge kit bags could be carried with such insouciant swagger? Whoever thought a slow build-up to a serve could look so sexy?
Not only does Challengers feature a great wardrobe but it has also got a fabulous electronic music soundtrack which chimes with my current obsession: the new Pet Shop Boys album Nonetheless. It’s a concise ten-song gem. It’s good enough in its own right for Neil Tennant (one half of the Pet Shop duo) not to have to feel it necessary to criticise the success of Taylor Swift in a recent interview for never producing a hit single. ‘Where are the famous songs? What’s Taylor Swift’s “Billie Jean”?’ he asked. You might criticise her for having recently released two overlong albums, but a hit single is no longer a marker of stardom, as Swift proves and Tennant should surely know. During their initial 1980s heyday, I didn’t much like this Gilbert and George of the synth scene – they were too camp for my taste. But now there’s something weirdly comforting about the deep dive into nostalgia with lyrics referencing KGB boys, Roxy and Bowie and the intriguing Les Petites Bon-Bons. Who were Les Petites Bon-Bons, I wondered, consulting Professor Google. They were a group of gay conceptual art performers from Milwaukee it turns out. I wonder what they think of Taylor Swift if they’re still around?
As a new trustee of the Wallace Collection, I never lose an opportunity to speak of this spectacular London spot, crammed with treasures, just behind Selfridges. On Sunday, I ran into an acquaintance on a street corner. It provided the perfect occasion for me to bang on, because he was in London to co-curate an exhibition of Indian art from the Kew archives. Naturally, I suggested he check out the current Wallace show on Ranjit Singh, the Sikh warrior king. Along with lethal jewelled daggers, there are some beautiful Indian miniatures. He told me the derivation of the term miniatures in art had nothing to do with their size but instead came from minium, a red lead oxide used by miniators who applied it to illustrations in medieval manuscripts.
There’s certainly no minium involved in my new shiny black Mini Cooper. However, I hadn’t realised how many Minis there are in London. Part of the reason for choosing this car was that I thought it was a little unusual among the Priuses, VW Golfs and dreadful Subaru SUVs that tangle up the roads. But I was wrong. Minis are now common as bindweed, which is why I spent several minutes the other day unable to understand why the car wouldn’t unlock, only to realise it was one of three identical black Minis parked in a row.
Road usage is one of the main topics on which the London mayoral election will be decided. Having watched the four chief contenders in a debate the other night, I find myself almost unable to vote for any of them. What is it about the mayoral job that results in such uninspiring characters as candidates? When Sadiq Khan first came to power eight years ago, I was a huge fan. I invited him to the Vogue centenary gala dinner where he charmed Giorgio Armani by telling him how proud he was as a young man to own his first Armani tie. He seemed to have good ideas and a humility about him. Now, though, there’s no way he’s getting my vote, because of what he’s done to the roads. I’ve had two speeding summonses for driving at a hardly boy-racer pace of 24 mph on Park Lane. The Low Traffic Neighbourhood signage outside our front door makes our once-pretty conservation area look almost as garish as Piccadilly Circus.
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