A very vintage Christmas

In which G.M. Norton picks out fabulous Christmas gifts for vintage guys and gals.
 

With Christmas soon upon us, it provides us with the guilt-free opportunity to partake in heavy eating and even heavier drinking, all under the guise of ‘getting into the festive spirit.’ Wonderful stuff.

Aside from the continuation of one’s bacchanalian lifestyle, Christmas does have a couple of marks against it in the cons column (and I don’t mean losing the ability to fasten one’s trousers or skirt up after a little too much scoffing). That’s right, you’ve guessed it – I am of course alluring to the veritable minefield that is purchasing a gift for the other half.

But fear not, dear reader, because help is at hand in the form of your favourite protagonist.

The true British brew

In which G.M. Norton shares his love of everyone’s favourite after-dinner accompaniment. 

One of the greatest pleasures for any chap or chapette is the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee permeating the air, wafting itself through the home and scintillating the senses. Even if you don’t even like the stuff, there’s something about the smell that is utterly divine.

Strong and rich

Smouldering Sirens: Grace Kelly

In which G.M. Norton enlists the help of a timeless beauty as he introduces a new feature to your favourite periodical. 

Regular readers will know that I previously wrote about one of my style heroes, Sir Roger Moore. As a firm believer in equalities, in addition to showcasing stylish gentlemen, it only seems decent to also explore the unmistakable charms of some of my favourite ladies of the past and present. 

If you’ve not already twigged by the rather obvious heading, the first subject of the new ‘Smouldering sirens’ segment is none other than Oscar winning actress, style icon and Her Serene Highness The Princess of Monaco, Miss Grace Patricia Kelly.

I say, this will look great on the mantelpiece

My magnificent moustache

In which G.M. Norton proudly unveils his new moustache and comes over all Winston Churchill.

It will come as no surprise given the moustachioed furnishings of your favourite periodical, but your humble protagonist (that's me) is rather a fan of face foliage.

Sadly, unlike Burt Reynolds or Sean Connery, I'm not as blessed in the cultivation of said sub-nasal love wand. I did grow one for Movember a couple of years ago but my facial fuzz is a heady mix of blonde, grey and brown. I suppose dying it is a possible way around the colour conundrum but I am tempted to wait for my head of hair to play catch up as I age, like a good bottle of scotch.