A gilet is a sleeveless jacket. That is to say, it is a jacket that has undergone a voluntary amputation of its most useful features—and is somehow smug about the apparent freedom this creates.

Is being immortalised in stone really as dignified as we think?

What's with this vogue of serving stuff on bits of wood or slate? What was wrong with the plate?

Why are we so obsessed with 9am?

Are dressing gowns really the most suitable attire for the modern, civilised home-bird? Or are we due a re-think?