My personal style signifier is a pair of really good sunglasses. In northern Europe, we don't get enough sunlight to do dark lenses year-round, so I like to wear coloured lenses, which are a bit sexier. I like a black or tortoiseshell square frame from Cutler and Gross, which is reassuringly expensive. My worst? A bejewelled cat's-eye. Some sunglasses are a sign of something sinister. I'd back away from a skinny, octagonal frame.
The last thing I bought and loved was a sauna. It came on a truck from Sweden. It looks like a little troll barrel and I have it in my garden by one of the two lakes. It's admittedly a faff, because you have to build a fire, then come back in the house and wait for it to heat up. But there's nothing else to do where I live, in Northamptonshire. And it's nice when people stay, because it means there is an activity to break up the wine drinking.
My style icons rotate, but at the moment it's the designer Haider Ackermann. Not specifically his designs but the way he dresses himself: trousers tucked into socks and a little Moroccan slipper, or a loafer with the back trodden down.
The book that's stuck with me recently is Who Killed My Father by Édouard Louis. He's the golden child of French socialist literature, and it's autobiographical. I go in heavy on novels - always contemporary. I can't be reading the Brontës, Austen. The quivering bosom doesn't speak to me.
My favourite horse-related chore is mucking out stables. You put the horse shit on a trailer, which gets taken away by the farmer to spread on his fields. But in order to fit as much muck on the trailer as possible, you have to stack it at the right angles, and I love getting the perfect angle. Stamp it down, pile it up, stamp it down, pile it up. It is so gorgeous when it's done.
The podcast I am listening to is Bella Freud's Fashion Neurosis. I'm tickled by how judgmental some people are. Or how people you might have thought would be too cool, or a bit aloof, have considered what other people wear and what they wear, too. I love the question: "If someone you fancy is wearing something you don't like, does it kill your attraction?" It's revealing. For me, it would be beanie hats. No one wears a beanie for practicality. Someone has chosen it from a stylistic viewpoint. And it's wrong.
I'm really bah humbug about gift giving. I don't want to give gifts and I don't want to receive them. I call it a political stance, but I think that's just a way of dressing up a deep-rooted lack of generosity. Gift giving, if it's entirely organic, is one thing. But enforced gift giving around Christmas and birthdays is a bourgeois horror. That said, the best gift I ever received was a teapot in the shape of a loo. I use it rarely, and when I do, it makes me chuckle.
In my fridge you'll always find Vadasz Kimchi, Lindt Sea Salt chocolate and some vegetables that I've grown. I am quite green-fingered. I didn't know this about myself but it brings me so much joy and smugness. I've got a giant polytunnel and I've had success, but I'm not good at working out the quantities, so there will often be seven courgettes that all need eating within the next week. Things sometimes leave the culinary realm when there is a glut: if you've got a courgette that's become a marrow, it can be a fun centrepiece on the table. I dig out holes and put candles in them.
I always have my phone on loud and when someone calls me, it announces who is calling. I am actually 70
I work out a lot - I am secretly incredibly shredded. I have a PT from a rugby background who comes two days a week. I lift a lot of weights - it's a bit butch. It's good for the horses, it's good in life. And it appeals to my competitive side. Then I ride every day. I have seven horses and they are all equally wonderful in different ways. When you get into their head and you're working as one, it just sings - it's like a flow state. It's really moving.
Nothing gets my pulse racing like a huge landscape. Also, when you sit down with a friend and they have "news", and they put their hands on the table and say, "OK, it's a long story. Do you remember when..." It's not gossip but it's gossip-adjacent. My heart rate would spike at that stage.
Moving to the countryside has made me less aware of metropolitan micro trends and more appreciative of utility wear. But I'm quite conscious of trying not to dress like a country bumpkin or a regional mum. Not that there is anything wrong with that.
When my energy levels are low, I listen to a trashy pop playlist. Sabrina Carpenter, Chappell Roan, Olivia Rodrigo, Tate McRae. It's good for the soul. When I'm feeling a little bit more high- brow, I'll listen to Lou Reed. But I am not often feeling high-brow.
The best way to spend £20 is to leave London and buy a pack of Lambert & Butler cigarettes and a pint of lager. My pint of choice is something continental: Estrella or Peroni, on draught. And you're not smoking loads - just one or two with the pint. Not back-to-backing the whole thing.
It's quite easy to make me laugh. I like silly dancing. If I go to a fun place, my girlfriend will say, "Do an insert-name-of-place dance" and I have to do an interpretive dance that responds to the location. For example, "do a Welsh hills dance" or "do a Tuscan seaside dance". I couldn't live without a dancefloor. Doesn't need to be that regular. Just needs to be a monthly "howl at the moon" to exorcise some demons.
A place that means a lot to me is a Mediterranean hotel that I won't tell you the name of because I'm gatekeeping. It's on some kind of special ley line. But the other place that I find to be big in the magical way is Snowdonia, in north Wales. I have recently got a car that is big enough to fit a mattress in if you put the seats down, so I go camping with my girlfriend. We spend a whole day walking, eat Bara Brith fruit cake, see no one, and then we sleep in the car. I think that's a symptom of being in your 30s.
I've recently rediscovered The OC soundtrack. To a British teenager, that wealthy California world was the most glamorous thing I'd ever seen. Marissa Cooper was just "it". Listening to the opening bars of the theme song brought tears to my eyes.
An indulgence I would never forgo is sending all my sheets to the launderette. It's relatively inexpensive and the return on investment is huge. Perfectly ironed sheets that someone else has dealt with - it's unbelievable. I have six pillows on the bed: a square one at the back, then two rectangles. It's a hotel experience.
The best party I've ever been to was my friend Louie Banks's birthday two years ago. It was a three-day piss-up in a fabulous crumbly old castle in France. They'd set up a kind of club in one of the garages and the smoke machine was on such a high setting that you couldn't actually see anyone else. The theme was gay icons and everyone was in fancy dress. Suddenly, Freddie Mercury would appear through the mist, but actually it was [designer] Charles Jeffrey.
The last item of clothing I added to my wardrobe was purchased at 5.45am this morning, when I bought two pairs of vintage Levi's on eBay. I am quite prolific on eBay. I search the measurements that I want - waist and length - and can find them for £20. If they're great, bonus, if they're not, doesn't matter. I buy a lot of things second-hand - Margaret Howell kilts, Haider Ackermann trousers - but I draw the line at swimwear.
As part of my rapid acceleration into my boomer years, I almost always have my phone on loud. It goes back on silent as soon as I get inside the M25. But in the country, where it's windy and blowy, I have it on loud because I don't hear it otherwise. Also when someone calls me, it announces who is calling. I am actually 70.
My favourite room in my home is my bedroom - I could lie in that bed all day. I get into bed really early, sometimes 7.30pm. I could go to the pub and see friends, I suppose, but I don't. The curtains are open, the light is coming in, the air smells fresh, and you're just hanging out in bed, reading a book, doing some scrolling, having a giggle, playing card games, watching TV. It's an unbelievable luxury. You should try it.
The beauty staple I am never without is unrefined shea butter. I'm quite hot on skincare - there are a lot of serums, lotions and potions and SPF - and shea butter is the final barrier layer that is crucial for my outdoorsy lifestyle. I usually get it online, but at the moment I'm using some I got at a market in the Ivory Coast. It goes everywhere: all over the bod, hands - full shebang, so that I'm like a greased pig. Then, to try and look like I've looked in the mirror, I will always curl my lashes and do a little eyebrow gel.
My grooming guru is the guy who colours my hair, Marley Xavier. A modelling job will come in at the last minute and they'll be like, "We need you to have bleached blonde hair by 5pm", and he'll fit me in. I don't do facials because I can't bear the time commitment. I worry that I will look back on my deathbed and think, what a shame I spent so many hours of my life getting facials.
No celebration is complete without a smoke machine. A friend of mine will have a dinner party and towards the end of the dinner, he'll turn the smoke machine on. It's a brilliant change of mood.
I have a collection of books, which are crudely alphabetised and grouped in topics: poetry and autobiography, travel, essays, art. I buy books at a much higher rate than I can read them. I don't edit what I buy - if I like the look of something, it comes home with me. The Sarah Book by Scott McClanahan has been sitting on my bedside table eyeballing me for months, and I started it yesterday - it's so good.
The artist whose work I would collect if I could is Mark Rothko or Francis Bacon. I'd love a couple of the Rothko Seagram murals or a Bacon triptych above my sofa. I've got a curved wall where they would look really good. The wall isn't quite big enough but I would redesign the house.
Some of my best ideas have come when walking across Wales. When you're not making eye contact with another person, you can talk things through in a much more easy way. Nattering and allowing the flow of conversation to go where it goes - no pressure, no time constraints - is very freeing.
You've got to believe in life after death. It's not necessarily reincarnation. But the party can't end.
In another life I would have been a gardener. I was thinking I might have been a librarian but the air is too stale in a library, and there are not so many employment opportunities thanks to Tory austerity.
Being around horses has taught me patience. Everything in fashion happens so fast, and you don't need to have any patience because it's already happened five years ago and you're late. But everything in horses happens 1,000 years later. With a footballer, when you're 35, you're near retirement. But a horse person who is 35... you've not even got started. There are so many ladders to climb and so many snakes to slide down, in terms of getting to the top of the sport. It's taught me a lot more humility - and to surrender to the process.
An object I would never part with is almost anything. I am really grabby and very territorial. If I lend someone a book, I will set a reminder on my phone to get it back off them. It's part of my anti gift-giving stance but it dovetails too closely to be a coincidence with my inability to share.
My drink of choice is a Paloma - it's very refreshing. The first place I had one was at the Mezzatorre Hotel in Ischia. But I do like the element of surprise you get with the homebrews in the countryside. There's often a bit of "I made this myself" hooch going around, and you're never quite clear what it is. Lighter fluid and raspberry cordial, or gingery sweetness...
The best souvenir I've brought home is a zip-lock bag of sand from the Sahara. I went to Mauritania in November last year and it was so unbelievable in terms of the vastness. It's deeply magic as well. I sound really woo-woo but I'm just being honest.
The targeted ads on my Instagram feed know me so well. I just bought two pairs of loafers, one white and one black, straight off a targeted ad. The brand is called Flattered. I don't know if it's cool or if it's lame, but they'll be good for my Haider Ackermann-inspired look.
The best bit of advice I ever received came in an Irish accent, which is doubly good: "You take things too personally." That was a revelation, because obviously I am the centre of the world. Another friend, a generation older than me, said, "Say yes to everything - don't try to be strategic in life. If it's good to do, just do it."