Judging comps




He’s wearing robes, cerise, magenta, loosely draped like wind on the shore – you can garden in them, fix the downpipes. Kilts energised and free, leaf vein yellow, flame and midnight blue. Lavalavas, passionfruit and the light in an orchard at midday. Men will dress this way from now on. I give the designers eleven out of ten.




You can’t go wrong with Indian spices, so long as you know how to prepare them and they’re fresh and they do. Garam masala and lots of it, enough to feel the bite. They give me sensation. I reward them with a trip to Paris to see two of the pinnacles of western culture: a Frenchwoman smoking a cigarette and a Frenchman mounting a bicycle. If they win the final round, they’ll go back in time to gold platforms, glitter and Gibson guitars – the era so holy we do not name it.

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