晚上11:24
Ichihiro
Jonathan Heaf charts the evolution of the suit from workaday drudgery to everyday style.
The humble, honest, hard working-suit: man's armour, a shield of fabric and cloth; a guy's sartorial stalwart; a defence against early-morning wardrobe indecision; a protection against any tendency to dress like an off-duty cricketer; a wingman to protect against the inability to dress one's age.
School, however, can mar the initial introduction to the suit. The uniform I had to wear between the ages of 12 and 18, a navy structured blazer twinned with a pair of gravel-rough charcoal trousers, left me thinking that all a suit achieved was iron out any hint of personality. When you're a kid, suits aren't cool or erudite, savvy or sharp. Suits are fusty. Suits are tired.
Then you discover rock and roll. For me, it was watching The Strokes perform live at the Oxford Zodiac in 2002, the band's first ever live performance on British soil. Looking stage right, playing rhythm guitar, was the frizzy haired Albert Hammond Jr, a musician so sharp, so well-dressed, he looked like a poster boy for everything I ever wanted to be. And, you know what? He was wearing a suit.
And that's how it starts. You head out the following weekend in a blazer, a skinny black tie, a narrow pair of strides, a pair of old Church'sbrogues. Before you can say 'throwback', you're ferreting among the second-hand shops under the arches in Camden, trying on bashed-up Paul Smith three-pieces from the 70s. Buying your first suit is a rite of passage: confidence-building and cathartic, to the extent that you promise yourself you'll never wear anything else ever again.
Today, the suit has never been more fashionable. Just look at someone like super-producer Mark Ronson. His music may be middle-of-the-road karaoke for the cool kids - but his sartorial choices are as sharp as a knife-edge. Of course, we aren't all maverick producers with a black Amex, and thankfully, the high street has finally come up trumps with a selection of cheap cheats for the dapper man about town. Where better to find them than in London, home of Savile Rowand Burton, who brought the off-the-peg suit to the post-war masses?
Head to Japanese favourite Uniqlo and you'll be able to pick up a great, two-button, two-piece suit for well under £100 (£69.98). For a bigger chunk of change you'll find great-looking suits at Burton (three-piece for £130), River Island (two-piece from £119.98) and Ted Baker (two-piece from £300). If you're looking for something more fitted you can't do any better than head to COS. Its taupe cotton suits are stylish, sleek and available in a palette of soft hues that won't have your friends thinking you're out to audit them (COS separates, blazers from £129; trousers from £55).
Button up and be a man. Frugally.
Jonathan Heaf is senior commissioning editor at British GQ
Choosing the right wine can be challenging and perplexing. Selecting the bottle that will awaken the senses and complement the occasion takes skill and, as with so many forms of learning, a teacher is essential. Enter 
Sarment was co-founded by Bertrand Faure Beaulieu, who began his career in banking and risk management. The company grew from Faure Beaulieu's long-held ambition to reshape the experience of discovering and understanding wine. Faure Beaulieu always knew what he wanted to offer: 'a truly personal service', plus 'unbiased advice and privileged access to wine and wine makers'. He also hoped to introduce a more dynamic way of buying wine.
Part of Sarment's appeal lies in its very personal approach. On joining, members are individually paired with a sommelier whose personality and slant on wine complement their own. At a restaurant, a sommelier has moments, not hours, to conjure up the perfect recommendation; in contrast, Sarment is designed to foster an evolving relationship. The sommelier arranges a series of conversations and home visits to allow them to grasp fully each member's expectations and desires. 'You can be much more precise,' notes Messy. 
Sarment is certainly not the first or the only brand to approach time-poor individuals who hope to expand their cellars and knowledge of wine. But current advisory services, even the most carefully run, tend to be influenced by the need to turn a profit. The Sarment business model, in contrast, is built around enjoyment, rather than sales. There are no ties to wine merchants or distributors, so members can rely on receiving unbiased advice, free from any commercial pressure. 'It's about a relationship and an experience,' concludes managing director Niels Sherry. Members can expect vintages from Sarment that will surprise and inspire. As sommelier Gearoid Devaney points out, 'A great wine makes your palate dance. It's like opening Pandora's box.'
