Opening Day at the Cheltenham Festival 2015
This is Jo. We’ve been best friends for over twenty-five years. We went to the same school and the same university. She’s the person I bought books with at Shakespeare & Co. in Paris after our A-Levels, for whom I cooked an Indian meal for thirty for her 21st, who shared my love of The Wonderstuff, and who was the only other girl at school who read the NME. We’ve danced at raves in forests in Northumberland, New Year’s at a chateau in France, and lived down the road from each other in North London in our twenties. Oh and I’m godmother to her oldest child.
Unfortunately she’s a film AD who lives in the south west of England and works on location and I, well, I ping about the world, so we don’t see nearly enough of each other these days.
We both come from very horse-y families, so we’ve also been to the Grand National together and many point-to-points in our twenties in Leicestershire. But we’ve never been to the Cheltenham Festival either apart or together.
So for Jo’s birthday this year we went racing. And oh we had such a wonderful day together as guests of Great British Racing.
Cheltenham is quite traditional – nothing like Royal Ascot. It can be bitterly, piercingly cold, and there’s no need for heels, silk frock or cocktail hattage here. Smart tweeds, shearling, shades of brown, Heat Tech, trilbies and fedoras, ankle boots and a sensible bag to hold betting slips, race cards and field glasses are the way to go. Think smart country gear, not chic town looks.
I asked my uncle and cousin for racing tips, as I am no good studying the form. I made a modest return on an each way suggestion of Uncle Alan’s but I am afraid all Robin’s (apart from when he suggested the clear favourites, which I never bet on) failed to live up to expectations. So I came home down in the pocket, but very much up in the heart. (It’s really my fault – of course we knew that trainer Willie Mullins was the man of the day, and who was I to go against the received wisdom?)
Racing really is an exhilarating day out. Cheltenham in particular, which is all about the jumps – as opposed to Ascot, which is run over the flat. The horses are valiant and the jockeys brave and there is all to play for.
We were there for opening day, and it was packed – bring flat shoes or risk very sore feet and lots of blisters, as there is a lot of walking to do to get around from parade ring to grandstand to rails.
Whilst I cannot pretend to even one tiny fragment of the knowledge that my dear friend Tania has of the horses, (her coverage of Cheltenham day one is here), even to a racing numpty like me, it’s a wonderful experience.
I hadn’t really engaged with outfitting until the night before, when I rushed off to St James’ just before closing time to Christy’s to buy a felt fedora, to replace my grandfather’s battered one that hangs on a hook in my office.
Much to my chagrin, they had not a single ladies hat in stock in navy or brown, in any size near my own. Ack. Walking out of Princes Arcade I vacillated for a few minutes, then reversed into Fortnum’s. The very first hat I saw was this brilliant faux fur pillbox by Helen Moore – and a bargain at £40. I tried it on, selfie-d it, and paid for it all within three minutes.
Style Notes:
At Cheltenham, Sasha is wearing:
Marks & Spencers Best of British Tweed Coat from AW14 (featuring Mallalieu’s tweed)
Holland & Holland Cartridge Bag (inherited)
Air & Grace Coachella ankle boot (gift)
Wolford Merino tights
Helen Moore Pillbox Faux Fur hat
Sunday Somewhere sunglasses (gift)
At Fortnum’s:
Whistles oversized tweed blazer (AW13)
Falke Pure Matt Opaque black tights
Nike Custom iD Air Max (I designed mine as black and white Air Max 90s and I LOVE them)
Uterque black leather bag (AW14)
