Streets of London : A touch of Regency

I have long had a fascination with the Regency era given teenage years devoted to all things Jane Austen and Georgette Heyer so parts of London we are walking in are as familiar to me now as if I lived there then.

Today it was not surprising to come across the famously outfitted Beau Brummell in full Regency regalia on Jermyn street posing, as was his want, in front of the very beautiful Prince's Arcade. This was his hangout in the early 1800's, taking the afternoon sun with his friends and the Prince Regent, while checking out collars and cuffs at the ubiquitous shirtmakers up and down Jermyn street whilst espying the newest riding boots or gilded buckles at the shoemakers. All priced a pretty penny these days. Some starting at £690. Along here, they are handmade to this day. We chatted to many traditional bootmakers, all happy to share their wares. They showed us how the measure and custom make the lasts for every new client, how to cut the leather from the measures, and pass on the piece to be hand-sewn, as ever. Many fine shoes here have sixty stitches to the inch around the welt. And with orders aplenty they still have a huge staff these day, though many of the stitchers work at home, piecemeal, as they ever did.

Hats, too, are made as always. Beau would still be able to have his favourites handmade. There are bowlers, and berets and Panamas from the finest woven palmata in Ecuador, we were told. This comes to the hat makers in woven sheets which they then mould to size and shape. They even exhibited an amazing head measure they once used to size one's head.

On the walls, in the back of the shop, are many of the original signatures on little slips of papers bearing pin marks still of those ordering hats through the ages, including folk like Charlie Chaplin and many members of the current Royal family. And on one wall, a bill paid by a friend for Oscar Wilde, who must have found himself short pocketed that one embarrassing time. Not unusual among the men about town in those days.

After shopping, the Regency toffs might take a break at one of their clubs. If they were feeling a little frail after all the exercise up and down Jermyn they might take a sedan chair, which they could hire at the corner tucked behind the blue posts advertising them, right next door to Lord Byron's house, which was convenient for him.

They had the choice of many gentleman's clubs: White's, Pratt's, Brookes, Boodles and Carlton among them. None far, any of them: barely a block or so away. Many are still here today, with 'members only allowed' as ever; where a dainty dandy might borrow from a waiter if caught short, as many were back then. Or, where a wild buck might bet £3,000 that one raindrop rather than the other, on the club window on a dull wet boring day, might reach the sill first.

After which he might head over to be weighed and put his name in the ledger along with some 30,000 other notables keen to do the same thing. Lord Byron was a particular fanatic, terribly concerned with his weight. He visited regularly. The original scales used by the dandies still hang from the roof of Berry Brothers & Rudd, who today are fine wine merchants. The ledgers with their names and weights are still around for all to see.

Or they might hire a coachman. Their digs were close by back in the day. Today, this beautiful old yard of coachmen's cottages has been taken over and is now being refurbished as part of the Stafford Hotel. We hope they maintain its delightful character. Or, if that is too tame a venture, a dandy might have his seconds organise a duel down the darkened alley into Pickering Place, just a block or so away, and saunter there to check that his pistols are at the ready.

We did something tamer: took time out for coffee and a little something that made Miss Bec smile. And admired the art in a nearby gallery just as the regency crowd would have done.

With the afternoon shot and someone like Lady Melbourne planning a ball this evening the Regency dandies would likely head back to their club, or rented digs, or their London townhouse if they were in deep pockets. To dress for the evening. For some, this took three hours. Easily that for Beau, who was the dandy of all dandies. With many changes of starched white cravat until his look was perfected.

Just through a tiny alley and across from Green Park was the London home for the Spenser family. It was places like this that folk would come for 'the season'. But, like many at the time, Diana's ancestors often had to rent this place out, just to make ends meet.

Moving on, we came to St James's Palace with some of its buildings heavily guarded. Weapon heavy guards were out in front of Clarence House, tucked into one side. But they were friendly. They pointed out the London home for Charles and Camilla, that used to be home to the Queen Mother when she was alive. Then along the brick walls of St James's Palace we were shown the arched windows of the Chapel Royal built by Henry V111 to honour his short-lived marriage to Anne of Cleves. Here lies Mary 1's heart. Here, Queen Victoria was married. And here, lay Diana's coffin before it was brought to Westminster for the funeral.

We popped in for a visit to the delightful St James's church, Wren's favourite of all his designs, with its spacious and airy proportions, and in every pew on the north side, we found sleeping homeless men. The welcome sign inside the church is touching in this age where so many are caring so little for our fellow man.

So, it is not all fine and dandy even now, in these parts. As it was not, for Regency's buck, Beau Brummel, way back then. After taunting his 'fat friend', the Prince Regent once too often one evening, Beau found himself an outcast in society. Creditors came after him. He was cut adrift. He fled England, skipped across to the Continent, landed in debtor's prison in France, and died penniless and insane, of syphilis.