I was starting to stress about where I could hire a tuxedo from when my editor reassured me. “You don’t have to wear black tie to the Proms!” she laughed. No, not even a suit. Anything is fine, she said. “Really?” I asked, doubtful. My perception of the Last Night of the Proms – a bunch of toffs in dinner jackets braying about Empire, a kind of musical Bullingdon Club – was clearly off the mark. What else had I been getting wrong about it?
Many things, it turns out. Not only is black tie not mandatory but the Proms finale revels in what can only be described as “some seriously strong lewks”. On the hottest day of the year, nobody bats an eyelid at the strapping bald man who is topless save for a sparkly union jack waistcoat and bowtie, nor at the daring decision of one man to combine dress shoes (no socks) and shorts. “Look over there,” I whisper to my wife, pointing towards a couple sat to our right. “Rabbit people.” A man and woman are wearing strap-on noses and ears as if they’ve arrived straight from the set of the Wicker Man. Clearly, anything goes here.
