Is style guru Tyler Brule the world’s most annoying man? Impossible to get through one of his newspaper columns without being made to feel physically ill at the level of namedropping he manages, Brule builds lists of where to buy sesame-scented candles and macaroons in Paris, or why you must insist on buying hand-painted kid-skin shoes for your servants. Although a walk through the ocean of his soul wouldn’t get your feet wet, perhaps he could be rehabilitated by being sprayed with mud from a passing bus in South London in November, on the way to classes where he has to show angry homeless people how to survive on benefits.
Or am I just irritated by the fact that he always looks so perfect in his Financial Times column, when I’ve just woken up and caught sight of myself looking like I’ve spent the night been repeatedly hit with dustbin lids?
Either way, the world doesn’t need a new flavour of scented candle. Or a new shade of macaroon. But perhaps Mr Style could be usefully employed during the season teaching agoraphobics how to shop, or something.