I was first introduced to the principle of toff scruffiness in 2000 when I attended a summer wedding of an old London friend of husband’s in the Midi-Pyrénées. The women wore frocks I recognised from the racks of Fred Segal in L.A. where I browsed but never bought. Sunglasses and Gucci sandals with suits were the order of the day for the men. Amongst this finery, one man stood out in ratty canvas deck shoes. Husband explained he was the richest man there.
Yesterday at the town fair I encountered another excellent example. After meandering around the amusements in the market square, we stepped into the wine bar to say hello to the usual suspects. Upon chiding one of them for wearing a woolie jumper in the middle of summer I was told, “but dear, I must wear it to cover the holes in the elbows of my shirt.”