My friends and I make a cheeky game of spotting pastel sweaters jauntily draped around men’s shoulders at the Jeep Portsea Polo. It’s a cue that’s rarely spotted in other realms of Melbourne’s typically egalitarian social strata; one as firmly tied to Ivy League mores and a certain Sloane Ranger aesthetic as the sleeves themselves are knotted. Aside from this sartorial oddity, I find attending the polo a much more rewarding, elegant experience than the racing carnivals these days. Fashion faux pas are less glaringly obvious at Portsea, sun-defying brims preferred over flimsy, flammable fascinators and please do give me espadrille wedges over stilettos any day.
I’m pleased to announce that the preppy shoulder-sweater count has dropped dramatically this season.