My Life-Style

Perched animatedly in the base of my Nanna’s decadently imposing wardrobe, I recall the first of many unforgettable moments that delightfully and whole-heartedly took my breath away. As I crouched amongst an array of opulent coloured firs, leathers and suedes, alongside rich brocade silks in hues of magenta, emerald and gold, my mother waltzed down the couple of steps that led from the en-suite, to the minimalist warmth of my grandparents’ bedroom.

 

The dress was timeless – a floor-length, figure-hugging gown in midnight blue. Around her neck sat the winter-white shrug that decades of elegant soirees had yet to tarnish; its feathers, softer than the blush of her cheek. I remember in that clock-stopping moment wishing for a future in those shoes, unaware of anything to contradict such romantic fathom. I have no memory of where she went that night – I couldn’t tell you the season, or the year – but I’ll never forget that smell of Yves Saint Laurent as she kissed me goodbye.

 

As the youngest after a generation of 17 boys, I was born into a great, and altogether rather daunting responsibility to be everyone’s little girl. My Nanna – probably the most glamourous and elegantly poised lady I’ve been blessed to know – was therefore most disappointed when, at the age of about two, I’d taken to wearing most of my closet at once. A classic collection of patchwork hand-me-downs would hang off my toddling frame – each day having personally taken the time to create fresh ensembles to greet my brother at the school gate. Mum always encouraged this slightly obsessive trait, objecting to my grandmother’s wishes of dressing me herself.  It wasn’t until I started school that I was stripped of that formerly unappreciated privilege.

 

Thrown into the uniformity of the British education system, it quickly became clear that the ranks of popularity were directly correlated to the length of your skirt, the height of your heels and the size of your bra. At this point, style was dictated by what Mizz and Sugar said would make dreamy boys take you to the movies – any personal expression, it was clear, would have to be put on hold for the next few years. I pleaded for Kickers, Adidas poppers and Buffalo boots. I made perfume out of buttercups and Palma Violets. I crimped my hair.

 

For my fifteenth birthday, Mum gave me a subscription to Vogue. I remember, as I peeled open its beautifully glossy cover, the overwhelming wave of intrigue that shot through me; a catalyst for the realisation that I no longer needed to conform. The models danced as the pages turned, and the features flowed – silk-like – as they conjured images of foreign runways and exotic shoots. I’d discovered a new place to escape to, unwind in, dream about.

 

For me then, style was about fashion, and the high street was my playground. Shopping became a substitute for all I craved in that unattainable world of flash bulbs and couture, and getting dressed became an art again. I was reintroduced to my two year-old self, this time armed with a teenage body and a £42 clothing allowance. At a time when throw-away fashion had begun to take flight, I’d meet friends outside Topshop and spend Saturday afternoons whiling away hours looking for inspiration in the mannequins – drawing us into every enchanting window. We inspired each other too, teaming together outfits that we’d never look twice at. Their eyes saw from the angles that mine couldn’t, and it created the eclectic style that we’ve all grown into – in our own inimitable ways.

 

It might be that all I needed was a wake-up call – a moment to slap me hard around the face and tell me that life revolves around more than understanding the latest trends, or having my favourite shoes lusted after. But even when Dad passed the phone over to my mother – to tell me the news that would completely change my whole world – I can remember exactly what I was wearing.

 

For two years, I watched her slip away, gracefully and heroically surrendering to the forces that sit just outside of this vulnerable existence. The fact that she never complained, never swore, and only shed a tear when she saw our grieving, highlights just another testament to her outstanding peculiarities. She fought, completely selflessly when she longed to give up, and took us shopping for make-up, hats, and wigs to keep her mind off things. She laughed when speech was too hard.

 

Today, my understanding of style is that it’s more of a presence – a feeling that can’t be offered purely through clothing or make-up or labels – but through projecting an honest image of yourself into your surroundings. Mum encouraged me to find my own style, never imposing, but gently guiding me to where I needed to go. She taught me about morals, elegance and inner-beauty before I knew anything about the tangible world of fashion and beauty. She taught me to read between the lines, and fall in love with the people that mattered – the ones that don’t need Chanel and Manolo to light up a room.

 

I’m sure in fifty years time, I will look back and cower at my curious attempts of staying at the cutting-edge. I won’t understand the newest trends, or the next generation of designers.  But maybe on the eve of my interment, my children will reflect in the same way as I do now – thanking their mother for every word of encouragement, every underappreciated submission, and every individual nuance that could be passed on, so that their life can be lived in the exact style that ultimately, only they can choose.

Welcome to a New Generation

In 1993 the British Fashion Council set up a scheme that, today, is considered by young designers and label heads alike, as one of the most influential stepping-stones into the fashion industry. The New Generation project ­– or NEWGEN – was the first of its kind to actively seek out and support emerging designer talent. 16 years later and the project has nurtured a host of famous names, whose career might not have been nearly as successful without the guidance and sponsorship that NEWGEN offered.

 

Sponsored designers fall into three categories – Catwalk, Presentation and Exhibition. Recipients of this sponsorship will then be given all the necessary tools to show their designs at London Fashion Week in the forthcoming season – in this case, SS10 later this month. NEWGEN acts as a promotional launch pad for these talented designers; who range from the newly graduated, to those with years of experience, yet still in need of a break.

 

It’s undeniable that the media profile built around the scheme is one of the strongest means to attract investment and orders, and whilst the monetary value of each sponsorship can range from between £5,000 to £10,000, it is the guidance and support offered to the NEWGEN scholars that holds the most significant importance.

 

The BFC won’t immediately back out after one season either. They recognise the support that young designers need at this stage in their career and can award sponsorship to the same designer for up to four seasons. It’s a refreshing approach. Especially compared to those with the sole objective of churning out new apprentices season after season.

 

In 2001, Topshop became sole sponsors of NEWGEN and have had a proactive involvement in it ever since. By providing show venues and commissioning special collections – available during fashion week – they have taken a particularly supportive role in promoting some of the most exciting design talent that London has to offer.

 

Alexander McQueen, Matthew Williamson and Giles Deacon are just a few of the designers that were once nestled under NEWGEN’s wing, and with this season’s plethora of vastly talented individuals currently adding the final touches to their collections, there is no doubt that we will see them take flight soon too.

 

The application process consists of three stages. After adhering to the eligibility requirements (being based in the UK, having a minimum of two stockists and a business that would normally have shown off schedule – as well as a collection consisting of womenswear or accessories), the designers are asked to provide two industry references along with their application. No samples, look-books or press material is required at this point, and it is from here that the panel will determine whose designs they will see in phase two.

 

The submissions process kicks off after the designer's application is accepted, and the guidelines are then sent out in the confirmation email. Up to six samples may then be requested from each applicant’s current collection, and it is these samples that will establish the final shortlist. It is only at this stage that interviews will be held, determining the final 14-20 designers that will be chosen to show at London Fashion Week.

 

A few things should be taken into account when applying for the scheme, such as that accessories designers can only apply to show in the exhibition, whereas ready to wear and millinery designers can show on the catwalk as well. Also, cash sponsorship will only be awarded to those designers taking part in catwalk shows.

 

The selection panel is comprised of an expertly-qualified bunch of industry professionals, including influential figures in media and buying, alongside a core panel of BFC insiders, of whom make the final decision.

 

If you are interested in learning more about this scheme, or the current sponsored designers, please visit www.britishfashioncouncil.com

We're hot on her heels

Already tipped by Vogue as being one to watch, Sophie Gittins – the 25 year-old Cordwainers College graduate, has much to smile about. After receiving a first-class honours degree in footwear design, the Essex-based designer sites being nominated as a finalist for the first ever Fashion Fringe Footwear Awards, as a highlight of her career so far. The prestige of this achievement is particularly impressive when you consider the early stage of her career. Pair that with the distinctive designs of her first and forthcoming collections, and it’s no wonder that she impressed the panel of top industry professionals, including Colin McDowell, Rupert Sanderson and Manolo Blahnik.

The success of her debut collection had industry critics dubbing Sophie as a definite ‘New Shoe Star’, and SS10 has the fash pack waiting with bated breath. “Opulent coloured suedes, leathers and snakeskins alongside rich brocade silks in hues of magenta, oche and green”, are the undeniably tempting words Sophie uses to describe her second collection – inspired by the Russian jeweler Fabergé. This season, 12 styles have been created, each with its unique stance on the 19^th Century luxury that Fabergé produced, and each taking the name of a key figure in the history of the Fabergé company.

Sophie is able to pinpoint an early interest in shoes as she reminisces over the beautiful quality pairs she wore as a child. "I've always been drawn to the creative process, and I love the idea of turning an initial flat sketch into something 3-dimensional that is not only aesthetically pleasing, but practically sound." Her fascination therefore with the heel-structure is something she is keen to explore in future collections. Due to the size and infancy of the company at present, her efforts must however, focus on creating simply stunning designs for the upper shoe.

With a dedication to, and love of research, Sophie's design process includes much more than just sketches. She draws inspiration from the arts, architecture, interior design and antiques – demonstrating her eclectic taste and influences that are reflected in her stunningly adorned Colchester studio. Dominated by a huge old haberdashery cabinet filled to the brim with antique trimmings and leather samples, the walls are kept simple to perfectly display her collection of vintage Vogue artwork and beautifully ordered swatches in a rainbow of delectable shades.

For the footwear followers amongst us, Sophie hopes to collaborate with more designers in the future. Her recent work with NEWGEN-sponsored Hannah Marshall, found her addressing new and exciting challenges that fitting someone else's design aesthetic brought. Chanel, Philip Lim and Yves Saint Laurent are top of the wish list as far as Sophie is concerned; and with the international recognition she is gaining from a string of key figures in the fashion industry, the dream is not unreasonable.

Sophie Gittins's Spring-Summer 2010 collection will be launched at London Fashion Week later this month.

Words by: Anna Harman

The unspoken reading

It wouldn’t take mum long to know when I was lying. At the age of about five, I had mastered the art of creating the perfect temperature on the thermometer. About a minute next to the light-bulb in my sticker-infested cabin-bed produced a fever just hot enough to mean that I could stay at home from school, but not too hot that I was rushed to A&E. This lasted a while, until my illness lies became progressively more extreme, to combat mum’s increasing knowledge of my tricks. I would claim that I had a headache, a tummy ache, a leg ache, a sore throat and sickness all at the same time. Not completely convincing. However, I was able to throw up on demand in those days; the last resort in these situations. Mum always knew that I was lying, so she’d make sure I was resigned to my bedroom or the sofa all day. Any digression would mean that I surely wasn’t that ill after all. I think it’s probably the reason that we never had any fancy TV channels. That would have definitely encouraged my young self.

Thinking about mum now, she was a pretty smart cookie. I soon got over my love of daytime TV and integrated myself well into school life – which I loved. I guess boarding school doesn’t lend itself to the same opportunities for escape as the local primary.

Mum’s stories from Godolphin always made me wonder why I wasn’t sent away to school though. The friendships she made and the mischief she got up to always made me dream of some imaginary world between Mallory Towers and St Trinian’s. Sneaking out at night to watch the trains and emergency knicker-swapping sounded like something straight out of an Enid Blyton novel. Her childhood always seemed ever so wholesome, especially when you consider that this was the sixties. I remember her telling me how she won the ‘most improved posture award’ one year, an award that – if you knew my mother – you wouldn’t doubt. Her elegant poise and flirtations with fashion painted her as an incredibly beautiful, yet humble lady.

I could only dream to inherit some of those qualities. I’ve taken her creative side – all three of us have, as well as her love of literature, gnocchi and mango. I’ve also taken her laugh. She would get the giggles after a glass of wine. I get the giggles over a lot of things – quite often in my sleep.

She would sit in the corridor when Tom, Pip and I couldn’t sleep. She bought me a typewriter when I wanted to write. She occasionally let us have just cake for dinner.

Despite her insistence that she preferred silence to music, mum’s ‘kitchen dance’ has probably made it around the world by now, due to Pip and I replicating it’s gawky style on every dance-floor we’ve ever encountered. The Beach Boys were her vice. Sunday afternoons weren’t complete without ‘Pet Sounds’ providing the soundtrack to a dance involving potato peelers, mixing bowls or saucepans, as props.

Sunday afternoons, as a matter of fact, were something I completely took for granted. I grew up thinking that it was normal to have a full roast dinner every week. She never let us down. It wasn’t until I moved away that it become intrinsically clear that I hadn’t inherited her culinary flair. Aside from her perfect lemon meringue pie and incredible Irish marrow chutney (of which the recipe rests with her), birthday cakes were her forte. All we had to do was dream it, and in a puff of smoke, we had biscuit castles, racing tracks, and even ‘Gizmo’ from Gremlins. We were pretty much the envy of all our friends – apart from the time Tom accidentally stepped on my number ‘3’, closely followed by me sitting in the remaining crumbs.

That was Trevone in 1989. Dad had rounded up every child on the beach for a game of makeshift musical chairs. He sang. I don’t know what was used for chairs. I guess the cake incident shows how competitive children can be.

Trevone has always been a pretty special place for us as a family. I don’t know whether that’s because we spent the majority of our summer holidays growing up there, or because it is the kind of peaceful, sleepy town that just evaporated tension. As holidays go, I’m glad I got to know another part of the UK before I got to know the world a bit more. For me, Cornwall comes close to paradise, and I hope to be able to pass that on to my family one day.

Reading back through the journal that mum wrote to me in her last months, she mentions that the biggest regret in her lifetime is that she will never see any grandchildren. I can’t see how she could be to blame for that. “I’ll come back and watch them” she scribes, in that so familiar yet illegible scrawl, “Good luck”.

I’ve got faith that she’ll come back in one of them, however. Just like Grandma came back in Pippa. And as the doves began to visit the morning after her passing, flocking the house just before the funeral, it gave me an abundant faith in another world. Before this point, I couldn’t say what I believed in. Now I can say, with as much evidence as I have seen, that there is a better place beyond this cruel world. We’re probably living with it underneath our noses.

I found this exert when my uncle Raymond died on January 1^st 2008. I think it sums up in beautiful conviction, what we are all capable of believing.

“When somebody dies, a cloud turns into an angel, and flies up to tell God to put another flower on a pillow. A bird gives the message back to the world, and sings a silent prayer that makes the rain cry. People disappear, but they never really go away. The spirits up there put the sun to bed, wake up grass, and spin the earth in dizzy circles. Sometimes you can see them dancing in a cloud during the day-time, when they're supposed to be sleeping. They paint the rainbows and also the sunsets and make waves splash and tug at the tide. They toss shooting stars and listen to wishes. And when they sing wind-songs, they whisper to us, don't miss me too much. The view is nice and I'm doing just fine.” 

Author unknown

“Never miss an opportunity to tell someone you love them.” It was a phrase I immediately became to cherish when a list of ‘rules to live by’ were handed to me by an incredibly well respected teacher when leaving high school. There’s a certain promise in that rule; a promise that presents more than admiration, but the ability to verbally offer yourself – wholly and truthfully – as a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, and a hug to melt into. After all, without love there’s not much more to live for, is there?

One stick or two?

For the last twenty years, one discussion has dominated mountaintop bars everywhere – which is better: skiing or snowboarding? Taking all things into consideration, we’re having a look at the contributing factors that charge this debate – with a conclusion that will no doubt continue to be argued, for many years to come.

Easiest for beginners

For beginners, skiing will take a few days of muscular control and good coordination to master the basics. As a technical sport, it takes an understanding of how your body works to get into the right rhythm, and having individual sticks attached to your feet will cause a great deal of frustration at first, particularly when trying to get up after a fall. Snowboarding can generally be easier to pick up, due to having less equipment to manage and just one board to control. Having said this, without the use of ski poles, it can become annoying when trying to move on flats.

Possesses the cool factor

For years, snowboarding has possessed the cool factor, and riders have dominated the pipe and park with gnarly tricks: 720s, McTwists, nose presses, and more. So as snowboarding became fresh and trendy, skiing began to date. However, in recent years, skiing has become cool again. As TJ Schiller performed a 1440 (4 spins) at the US freeskiing open, and the sheer velocity of the sport physically beats snowboarding every time, it’s become enough of an incentive for people to get back on two planks. Freestyle skiing seems to be the future of the sport and currently appears to have the edge.

Has the comfiest kit

In terms of comfort – both in the gear and on the lifts – it can be a bit of a toss-up. Snowboarding offers the comfortable ‘trainer’ style boots that can easily be manoeuvred in comparison to the awkward ski boots, in which you can acquire a definite swagger. Having less equipment is also handier when you wipeout, as there’s less to worry about finding, but the experience on the ski lift has to be won by the skiers. Just having the ability to separate your legs to sit down means that the feel is much more comfortable and the likelihood of falling is greatly reduced.

Will give me a better workout

The fitness factor is one that can’t be ignored. Where both sports require regular bouts of intense effort, and work essential core muscles equally, it appears that each sport excels in different ways. For example, snowboarding slightly takes the edge by burning a few more calories per hour than its competitor, whereas skiing creates toned legs and bums much quicker. Snowboarding is more of an entire body sport, working the calves and shins hard to facilitate the “heel-toe” motion, as well as the lower back and abs to keep the torso rotating. Generally, the steeper the slope, the better workout you will get from skiing – particularly on the thighs.

Most likely to injure myself

Injuries occur in every way you can imagine, from uncomfortable ski boots to over-confident boarders taking people out on their way down. To aid the eternal debate, we’ve taken a look at one of the common complaints that skiers will have, which is dodgy knees. “Torsional”, or twisting forces can be high when they are led by your feet, and if you have creaky knees or the potential to get them, then snowboarding holds less of a risk. With both feet attached to one board, the twisting motion is much less apparent, and the likelihood of landing on your knees is overtaken by the natural force pushing you onto your face or bum.

Better for different snow types

Most ski resorts you will visit were created with skiing in mind – hence the name ‘ski’ resort. If they weren’t, then they’ve slowly been moulded that way over time, and it’s clear as to which sport they prefer. The disapproving attitude towards boarders is aided by their knack of ‘ruining the snow’ and generally acting in a more carefree manner than the skiers. With less accessibility to the majority of runs at the resorts, Snowboarders have ventured further off-piste – exploring into the more daring environment associated with the sport. The fresh powder lines and deeper, softer snow are what snowboarders love, whereas skis work better on bumps and ice. This hasn’t put them off though, and there’s nothing more exhilarating than the feeling you get off-piste with either sport. Skiers liken it to flying, as the feeling is altogether different from what they find on-piste, bouncing their way through the softer powder.

So there we have it. The debate is over. Both sports are winners in their own right, and without the other to compare it with, neither would provide the same passion-inducing vibe that skiers and boarders grasp onto whenever they get into that old pub debate. Just get onto the slopes, with one stick or two, and understand that whichever one you choose, there’s only one way down.

Polo gets off its high horse

As the sun begins to lift its weary head, Britain’s growing army of polo-lovers are scribbling dates into their diaries as the sport’s social calendar begins to fill up. This summer sees the Gaynes Park Estate in Epping host the return of the Duke of Essex polo cup – the most exclusive event of the East London and Essex season. As past years have shown, these events attract some of the richest and most beautiful members of the upper classes to gather for champagne, socialising and sport. However, a recent shift in society’s demographic has diversified the game’s appeal, and introduced a new breed of polo enthusiasts.

The last two years have been pivotal in the evolution of Polo. Since its conception in 600BC – when the Persians played the Corinthians – its aura has been one of prestige and glamour. The sport’s royal connections have always attracted the social glitterati but as the old aristocracy withers, and growing numbers of self-made billionaires are increasingly seen as constituting high-society, the exclusive nature of the sport is becoming much more accessible.

This exciting movement has opened up countless opportunities for both the old and new school of polo. As a breath of fresh air and enthusiasm (not to mention money) has been injected into the game through new participants and spectators, events such as The Duke of Essex cup have supported the development of this long-awaited integration. By creating an event that no only promotes the sport, but involves a massive cross-section of local society, it has become influential in the recent democratisation of polo, not just as a game – but also as a lifestyle.

Shortly after World War Two, Lord Cowdray, of Cowdray Park, pioneered the way for the next generation of polo players. After the war, it was unclear as to how the sport would continue, after many of its enthusiasts had been killed in conflict and their turf had been sold for agriculture. Cowdray offered his land to the sport, welcoming numerous players, including those from non-military backgrounds – and although it still remained a very upper-class pursuit – it survived with all the enthusiasm and vigour that we can still observe today.

Just a couple of years ago, the staider parts of the polo community were hit by shock waves, as the most ambitious of social climbers could enrol in an ‘introduction to polo’ session – initiated by the luxury gifts company ‘Red Letter Days’. Now, for just £399, anyone can take up the hobby and play in an instructional chukka, accompanied by expert tuition.

Although Cobham Park, Surrey, where the Red Letter Days are held, claim that Polo is no more expensive than any other equestrian sport – the expense does add up when you consider the initial outlay of taking up the sport more seriously. Aside from the essential kit – including whites, boots, pads and gloves – the cost of hiring a horse can be anything from £100 per chukka. With eight chukkas per game, and the requirement for no horse to play more than two, it would be a valuable option to buy a horse – or four – at around £3000 each. These would then need supplementing expenses such as a groom, a stable, feeding fees, veterinary expenses, shoeing and a rig for transporting the animals to competition. Then there is the club subscription – which can range from anything above £600 annually. However, with many clubs now at capacity, and waiting lists constantly growing, it may be an option to enrol at a much costlier club – with subscriptions up to £3000.

This obvious expense will therefore mean that opting to participate in polo will be left to the upper crust. The allure that surrounds it however, has created a buzz that the media has leapt onto – introducing new and exciting sponsors to the game, and therefore opening up the appeal to a wider range of spectators.

It may be surprising to know that one of America’s leading fashion brands – Ralph Lauren – has only recently decided to officially associate itself with the sport, after forty years of trade-marking their name ‘Polo’. In 2007 they signed a four-year deal with America’s ‘Black Watch Team’, after a decade of court cases with the polo association, surrounding the trademark violations of their logo.

The UK has seen various aristocratic lifestyle brands recently associate themselves with the sport too, and as Veuve Cliquot and Cartier lead the way in hosting their own polo events, it seems that many more will follow suit. Jack Wills – the preppy clothing brand, favoured by public schools nationwide, has acquired the Varsity Polo league – where this year will see Oxford Vs Durham, Harrow Vs Eton and Harvard Vs Yale, in what will undoubtedly display the storyboard of a St Trinian’s bedroom fantasy.

Alongside this ‘high-tea’ image, the last few years have harboured the introduction of ‘WAG’ culture. As the term ‘celebrity’ has loosened, the image that surrounds the lifestyles of the rich and famous have become increasingly desirable. This is where the opportunity has arisen for new levels of society to appreciate the sport.

There are now five clear tribes of spectators: the sports enthusiasts, the blue-blooded society figures, the ambitious ladder-climbers, the local families and the rubbernecked public. Each of these groups show an interest in the sport that engage with a different aspect of the game – harbouring new appreciations of what it can offer, whilst constantly recognising the sport as one of great British heritage and culture.

The Duke of Essex Polo tournament targets all of these requirements. With the fusion of great entertainment targeting absolutely everyone – from families and children to VIP’s and celebrities – this year’s event promises to be the most impressive to date. With comfort and glamour being of utmost priority, the VIP area will deliver the fine-dining experience as Jean-Cristophe Novelli prepares the three-course luncheon – an occurrence entirely unique to the Duke of Essex cup.

The organisers have focused a lot of resources into making the family area into one that will receive significantly impressive praise. By offering a huge funfair, face-painting, clowns, balloon artists, quad bikes, 4x4 trips, skydivers, helicopter trips, military marching bands, pony club championships and fireworks as well as an equestrian village, the friendly community atmosphere offers the public a welcomed step back from the elitist nature that the sport reputes, and integrates local families in a fresh and unpretentious way.

It is the after-parties of such events that attract the hungry, status-seeking newcomers– and with new-money come new traditions. In recent years, Polo’s broadening appeal has seen the introduction of wild parties, of which the Polo Association strongly condemns. The social side of the game has become as much a part of the sport in recent years as the game itself. This is where friction has been caused.

Followers of the sport, for their love of the game and its age-old tradition, have been disappointed with the way both new participants and spectators have been represented recently. Horse enthusiasts make clear that the sport requires great dedication and occupies a significant amount of time to care for, and train with their steed, so the recent misconception that has painted the players in an unflattering light, is one that they strongly rebuke.

As ‘the game of royals’ would suggest, polo events attract not only those of blue blood, but also the press and photographers that will undoubtedly follow. This therefore stands as a valuable platform for celebrities – and would-be celebrities – to be seen at, creating a respectable impression, and therefore marketing themselves in a sensible way.

Previous years have seen local celebrities such as Danny Dyer, Caprice, Danielle Lloyd, Brendon Cole and Duncan James attend the Duke of Essex cup – not to mention Penny Lancaster and Rod Stewart, stating, ‘We are lucky to have such a dynamic, glamorous and exciting event in Essex’.

Where old-fashioned, class-based snobbery is still occasionally seen from the old-school aficionados, there are an increasing number of upper-class advocates such as the author Jilly Cooper, whose 1991 bonkbuster ‘polo’, threw a lot of light on the sport. She claims, “It’s a laugh. The more celebs, the better. The game is so lovely, the horses so gorgeous, the players so brave. The more the merrier. The more people who like a sport, the more money goes into it.”

An important figure to mention in the recent reinvention of the sport is model and socialite Jodie Kidd. Her involvement in polo stems back to her youth and as she actively supports the sport – by both playing and promoting it – she is seen as a valuable spokesperson to the field. This year she is heavily involved in the Polo World Series, which will commence on 5^th June at Hurlingham Park.

A month later – the 4^th July 2009 –will see the rolling, hallowed fields of Essex’s finest stately home, throw open its gates as two of the best international polo teams in the world – Great Britain and Argentina – battle it out in a phenomenal display of horsemanship and polo strategy. The Duke of Essex polo cup promises to be the highlight of the season, with the Duke’s Marquee hosting 381 parties that will feature live acts, lounge style seating and VIP areas to top off a fine day of sport. This truly Essex event, offers a magnificent day out, and the ultimate polo experience for every spectator – generating a warm collection of memories that will stay with you, as it becomes increasingly clear what a beautiful county Essex really is. 

A test above the rest

It’s a challenge that most of us would find inconceivable. Climbing to the highest point on earth is one of the most remarkable adventures one could experience, and as a team of 50 intrepid explorers make their descent – cricket bats held high – the repercussions of their achievement become all the more impressive.

On 21^st April 2009, history was written – documenting the highest altitude ever recorded for a field sport. Taking place 5,165m above sea level, the team have entered the record books by participating in an official Twenty20 cricket match on the frozen lakebed of Gorak Shep – Mt. Everest.

The Nokia Maps Everest Test saw ambitious professionals nationwide hang up their ties in exchange for the treadmill, as they signed up to support the cause – where just weeks afterwards, around £250,000 has now been raised for the charities The Himalayan Trust UK and The Lord’s Taverners.

Sir Edmund Hillary pioneered The Himalayan Trust UK in 1960, creating awareness of this beautiful region and investing in its preservation of local tradition and surroundings. The emphasis is now on education and basic healthcare, alongside the venerable environment in which Mt. Everest stands – as a constant reminder of the ever-impressive natural world.

The Lord’s Taverners is a charity founded in, and based upon cricket. Their aim is to provide disadvantaged young people globally with the tools they need to enjoy sports, such as cricket, and leisure activities to improve their quality of life.

The team was split into two opposing sides, ‘Team Hilary’ captained by Glen Lowis, the highly motivational kiwi Account Manager, and ‘Team Tenzing’, lead by the itchy-footed London Lawyer, Haydn Main. As their months of training finally paid off, both teams began the nine-day ascent – after a pretty hairy flight to their starting point – and continued through the Himalayas, towards Everest base camp, and on to the plateau of Gorak Shep.

Throughout the training, and trek itself, team members were encouraged to record their experiences through a blog on the Everest Test website, creating an interactive diary of their journey and encouraging support in the UK. Social network platforms such as Facebook and Twitter displayed over 1000 followers, and as the team met copious challenges, it seemed that the whole world was rooting for them. 

The effects of acute mountain sickness can be incredibly severe and at the highest point, the trekkers’ resting heart rate would have increased by 30 per cent. Combined with just 66 per cent of the oxygen found at sea level, it has been likened to breathing through a straw - conditions that are dangerous for any climber – let alone those undertaking 20 overs of a vigorous cricket match.

Although there are several variations as to how long a cricket match can last, spanning anywhere between 20 overs per side, to a game lasting five days, The Everest Test team were assured that the match would consist of a maximum of 40 overs – equivalent to about four and a half hours of play.  The teams fought on, and as ‘Man of the Match’ was awarded to Charlie Campbell, and the ‘Everest Test Trophy’ went to Team Hillary – after an impressive winning margin of 36 runs – the British flag was raised to celebrate a triumphant end. Alongside notably, the Queen’s birthday, the eccentric nature of this quintessentially English expedition finished off with a well-deserved cup of tea.

The team arrived home days later, after donating their kit to the children of Khumjung – a small village in which they introduced the game to on their ascent. So as the mass of doting friends and family swarmed arrivals, it seemed that the gentle flack of leather on willow has become a sound that won’t just resonate through the record books, but though the hearts of everyone that has been involved in the success of such an impressive feat.

Special Thanks to:

Nokia Maps for supporting this great adventure.

Qatar Airways for their donation of the flights.

Captive Minds Communications for delivering yet another worldwide audience.

The Lords Taverners and The Himalayan Trust UK for all their support.