The Mes Chaussettes Rouges man is quietly but firmly insistent about things being done properly: he instinctively knows what’s what. Not for him vulgar fads: style is simply a way of life (and he’ll spot a kindred spirit as readily as any imposter).

There are no fashion faux pas, no misplaced attempts at trend-setting—just contemporary elegance, beautifully and consistently executed. The concept of ‘Sunday best’ would be puzzling, and conformity equally abhorrent (he feels there are enough grey clones in the world).

He is cultivated enough to be just as comfortable chatting to the postman as delighting a cocktail party with his caustic wit. He laughs at the world, but also at himself.

Flippant but never frivolous, decent without being prim, engaging yet detached, he’s always in control. But don’t let his external demeanour fool you: he is also understated, polite and appreciative. He’s philosophical about the tough times, and generous in the good—and unstintingly and selflessly compassionate and caring.

He is an honest man and wears socks from Mes Chausettes Rouges.