“Whenever you put something on, you’re making some sort of a statement, aren’t you?” So says the England coach and fashion icon Gareth Southgate, and I agree. Standing on a touchline in an M&S merino wool polo knit – short sleeves, half zip – I feel every inch the smart-casual centrist dad. Even the colour is neutral.
During the 2018 World Cup, Southgate’s personal dress code heralded a new style of leadership for the England team: solid, understated, a little paternal. As the team progressed to the semi-finals, his Marks & Spencer waistcoats came to be regarded as a lucky talisman, and M&S was quick to capitalise – sales of its waistcoats doubled.
But Southgate’s style – sartorial and managerial – has evolved in the run-up to this summer’s Euro 2024 in Germany. “This year it will be more short-sleeved knits than a suit and tie, because we’re trying to create a relaxed environment,” he told GQ magazine. “When you’re working with young lads, you don’t want to be too stiff – in what you’re doing or wearing.”
Once again Southgate’s wardrobe choices appear to be contagious: days after this statement, the menswear retailer Jacamo reported that sales of its stone-coloured knitted polo had jumped by 42%, while sales of its cotton cardigans were up 130%.
I find myself, as ever, profoundly out of step with the times. I got rid of my last cardigan about two years ago – I loved it, but the moths loved it more. And I have never owned a short-sleeved knit. If I’m honest I wasn’t really aware there was such a thing. But I secured a few in the hope of being able to co-opt a little bit of Southgate’s laid-back authority.
Hanging by the goal in a local park in my short-sleeved knitted polo top, I think I’m beginning to get the idea: I feel relaxed, confident, informal and cold. It’s 17C and cloudy, with a stiff wind blowing from the west and rain predicted. There are goosebumps on my naked arms.
On the one hand a knitted polo top seems like the most English of garments: a summer jumper. Days like this one are to be expected on the verge of June, but they can also come along in mid-July, or any time in August. And yet, if it’s nippy enough for a jumper, I think it’s cold enough for sleeves.
You can’t really wear anything under a polo knit and although I’ve seen it done, it seems weird to wear something cotton on top of a wool shirt. Eventually I feel obliged to pair knits: a red John Smedley wool crewneck under a pale Paul Smith cardigan. I’m not sure about the look I’ve inadvertently created – authoritative insouciance seems to have given way to panic.
Inevitably, the sun returns and I am sweltering. I switch to a boldly striped polo top with buttons. All around me I see people who have been caught out by the afternoon weather: some are in shorts and sandals; others are wearing wax jackets and rain hats. Nobody but me is wearing a sweater with short sleeves. Germany, I keep thinking, will be more stable. Southgate will be fine.
Here’s another thing: a knitted top really clings to you. How much confidence you project is probably dependent on how at ease you are with the contours of your silhouette. I’m not just cycling between too hot and too cold – I’m also exhausted from holding my stomach in.
“As I’ve got older, I’ve realised you’ve just got to be comfortable with how you are,” Southgate told GQ. And maybe this is the point I’m missing: the casual authority I’m looking for has to come from within, and not from a £40 merino wool top from M&S’s Autograph collection. On the other hand, if I hold my stomach in long enough, at some point it may just stay that way.
Eventually the promised rain arrives in the shape of a driving downpour, and I am forced to retreat to my car to wait it out. As I say, I’ve never owned a short-sleeved wool polo shirt before, and I have no idea what happens if you get one wet.
