Every year on the red carpets of say, the Oscars, or the Grammys, there’s always one male star wearing a white suit. One year it was Jared Leto, another, a pre-harness Timothée Chalamet. In a sea of perfectly tailored black tuxes, this actor stands out, almost too much. He is basically saying: “Hey, listen up. I’m not like those other guys for whom this is a visual Bond audition. I’m special! I’m caring, sharing and can play quirky (depending on the fee). Please cast me in your next John Green adaptation.”
Wearing white always feels like an audacious move: bold, carefree and maybe a little brash. Because who really wants to be That Guy? It doesn’t have to be a white suit at the Oscars: what to make of the dude who turns up at the house party in all white? Or the friend of a friend in white quarter-length shorts and matching polo shirt? It either says try-hard, estate agent or Wham! tribute act.
On the catwalk, white featured heavily in the shows of Comme des Garçons’ Junya Watanabe. Today I’m wearing a high-street take on that look: a soufflé of white-on-white-on-white action from top to toe. I’m blinded by my own clothes. Look at me, I think, I feel special now, too! I could be in a boy band (the one who just points and doesn’t sing). I could be a superhero (Mr Muscle, the later years), I could be... an angel?
One thing I’m definitely not is someone who leaves the confines of the photographic studio. Because, unless you’re a Love Island contestant (I’ve never seen so many pairs of tight white jeans), these clothes can’t exist in the real world; the real world of pollution, mud, red wine and children. You might try a splash of bright somewhere: a box-fresh trainer, say, or a crisp shirt to offset your normal jeans. But an all‑white outfit? Only if you’re walking down a red carpet or a catwalk. User-friendly, this is not. But it’s fun for a very excellent minute.
• Priya wears coat, £180, by Nike, from mrporter.com. Denim jacket, £29.99, zara.com. Trousers, £80, carharrtt-wip.com. Trainers, Priya’s own.
