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Henley Regatta: An outsider’s perspective on a right royal knees-up

Kieran Connell

147341634 204x300 Henley Regatta: An outsider’s perspective on a right royal knees upThe first thing you notice, as you walk around Henley-on-Thames during the Royal Regatta, is the blazers.  They seem to come in colours right across the spectrum of garishness, and represent either a famous public school or one of the hundreds of rowing clubs that take part in the event each year.

And it’s a competitive business, these blazers.  “Don’t take this the wrong way”, I overheard one young man say to his friend during Regatta week, the climax of which was on Sunday.  “But your blazer isn’t exactly made from high-end tweed”.

I have been visiting Henley at weekends for the last year, since my girlfriend relocated to the area because of work.  Coming from an inner-city area of Birmingham, Henley often seems like a different world – and never more than during Regatta season.

Besides blazers, the full Regatta uniform for men consists of either a cravat or a loud, usually striped tie, off-white chinos and boat shoes (Panama hat optional).  Women tend to opt for tasteful, knee length party frocks, though I did see the odd younger woman complimenting her dress with a striped blazer (I can also report that the Royal Ascot ban on ‘fascinators’ has not yet reached Henley).

Outside Sainsbury’s I spoke to a slightly hungover looking Harry Moore, who had rowed at Henley for Abingdon School, the £26,000-a-year boarding school that he attended.  For Harry – who was dressed in his navy-blue Abingdon blazer with red trim – the blazers are a crucial part of “a tradition that all rowing clubs have”.

Adrian Dalmedo, meanwhile, who was attending the Regatta sporting a cricket hat in the maroon-and-yellow stripes of his local club (as a “piss-take”, his friend Ralph said), likened the dressing up at Henley to “the first day at the Test match” or “wearing your replica shirt to the football”.

In football, wearing your team’s colours is about tribalism and group solidarity and there is, of course, an element of this with those who come to Henley.  But the striped blazers and ties seem to be about much more than fanaticism – fundamentally, they are also about privilege and status.

At my school, it was traditional for leavers to vandalise their blazers, as a sign that one phase of life had come to an end and another was about to begin.  By contrast, the odd thing about those who have attended fee-paying schools is the way in which their school often defines them, long after they have stopped going there.

Alongside the actual rowing, then, a key part of an event like the Regatta is the opportunity it gives people to show off.  As Harry admitted, he enjoys the Regatta for the sport, but also because it gives him a chance to “peacock” and to “be recognised” – as a rower, an ‘old boy’ and, by implication, as a member of the elite.

At the local Waitrose, bastion of middle-class respectability, I asked the fed-up looking till operator what he thought of the Regatta.  “If you like posh people, go”, he told me, before suggesting that the most popular products that day had been bottles of Pimms and Champagne.

Like all towns that host popular festivals, the Regatta provides a considerable boost to the local economy.  Sainsbury’s shipped in extra staff just for the weekend, while Laurence Morris, proprietor of Laurence Menswear on the high street, could barely contain his delight at the spike in sales caused by the Regatta (Laurence has sold more than fifty ties this month, twice his average monthly figure).

In truth, of all places Henley is probably the area least in need of financial stimulus.  Even as unemployment has blighted the rest of the country, the cafes, restaurants and chocolatiers of Henley have regularly advertised for extra staff, sustained, perhaps, by the seemingly bullet-proof demand provided by the professionals who often relocate to Henley from London in order to start a family.

Like Royal Ascot, a Lord’s Test Match or, to a degree, Wimbledon, an event like the Regatta is a reminder of the stubborn way in which class continues to structure our society.  And if anything, class seems increasingly prominent in British life.  Four decades ago, for example, it was possible to gain membership to the prestigious Stewards’ Enclosure at Henley on the day.  Now there is a waiting list of ten years.

In 1985, 200 anarchists gatecrashed the Regatta with chants of “The rich, the rich, we gotta get rid of the rich”.  This year, the worst I heard was a middle-aged man grumbling “these are the idiots who are going to run the country one day”.  Class has been off the agenda in Britain for some time.  But a walk around Henley soon shows you that it remains as prevalent as ever.

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  • HJ777

    This article is utter nonsense.

    For the most part, the regatta course is entirely open to anyone and you can sit on the bank to watch races for free. The stewards enclosure is open to members and their guests and the sole qualification for being a member is that you have previously rowed at the regatta (nothing to do with privilege) – the waiting list is there simply because they have too many applicants. It costs nothing to become a member.

    Only the Stewards Enclosure requires a jacket and tie (and it doesn’t have to be a special jacket). Most rowing clubs have a club blazer (and most members don’t possess one), but they are extremely down-to-earth places, open to all. Henley reflects this – most people wear whatever they please. On the few occasions that I’ve been invited to the Stewards (by club members who are also Stewards members) I’ve simply worn an ordinary jacket and a club tie – which is what most people in the Stewards wear. If I had a club blazer, of course I’d wear it.

    And Henley is the pinnacle of ordinary club rowing, not just the elite. Dozens of clubs try to qualify a crew every year – only a minority are fast enough even to get in (and performance is the only criterion).

    Henley is a lovely, democratic, high quality sporting event, open to all – and long may it stay like that.

    As for schools and privilege, it is true that many independent schools feature prominently at Henley. However, it is equally open to state schools and rowing clubs. Of the three junior events in programme this year, one was won by an independent school (Abingdon), one by a state school (Borlase) and one by a rowing club (Henley).

  • Tabman

    I agree with HJ777 below. Once again, a great example of a journalist not letting the facts get in the way of prejudice.

    I’m a member of the Stewards’ Enclosure. I am not from a priveleged background and I did not attend public school. I gained entry by having been good enough to row in a crew that qualified to race at the regatta, and then joining the waiting list. Many other Stewards members are the same.

    The Stewards’ Enclosure is a prime example of meritocracy; membership dependes upon having been good enough to have rowed at the regatta. Unlike, for example, the enclosures at Lords, Ascot or Wimbledon which are all down to connections.

    The reason there is a waiting list, is that membership is limited and you have to wait for an existing member’s membership to lapse or cease. It is nothing to do with “class”.

    HJ777 is incorrect in saying that there is no membership fee; there is, but it is not excessive* and entitles the member and up to 2 guests entry to the enclosure on each of the 5 days of the regatta.

    * far less than, for example, the cost of attending a premiership football match.

  • http://twitter.com/sonjapolimac Sonja Polimac

    For a start – dear sir – your facts are wrong. Rowing blazers are made from wool or heavy felt, never from tweed. So this manufactured ‘quote’ stands out like a sore thumb. One will rarely comment on the material a blazer is made from, and I can say from hearing a conversation in the Floating Members Stand this year, a man simply commented that “there is more than one material on offer for our old boys blazers”. It was not a snub in the slightest.
    Furthermore, your inset picture is one of Abingdon rowing blazers – how you managed to incorrectly identify “navy with red trim” as an Abingdon rowing blazer (or indeed any Abingdon blazer) I will never understand.
    I would suggest you apply a fact checker to your writing process, because this is an inaccurate and sad portrayal of the last event of the social season to actually concentrate on the sport that it is about.

  • http://www.facebook.com/karl.hudspith Karl Hudspith

    Someone from Abingdon school was wearing a blue blazer with red trim?

    There are three Abingdon boys in the photo that accompanies this article
    and as you can see their blazers are a distinctive pink and white
    stripe combination.

    Makes me think you made up the rest of your article as well.

  • HJ777

    In fact, what I said was that there is no charge to become a member – it is based on having rowed at the regatta and whether capacity allows – not that there isn’t a (modest) annual subscription.

    It’s like a rowing club – you don’t pay to join (unlike, for example, many golf clubs), you just pay annual fees to help cover costs.

    The other thing that the author failed to mention is that HRR currently gives around £300k annually to grass roots rowing projects through the Stewards Charitable Trust – projects like London Youth Rowing and for community-based coaches, for example.

  • HJ777

    I believe that the normal Abingdon School blazer is, indeed, navy, but I’m not sure whether it has red trim.

    The rowing blazer is quite different.


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