A feast of flâneurie
Sunday 5th May saw the annual Grand Flâneur Walk organised by The Chap magazine, a celebration of flâneurie, the noble practice of wandering aimlessly around a city, simply to observe and be observed, without any particular goal or destination. It’s a concept that took shape among the bohemians of the late 19th century and The Chap is keen to keep the pursuit alive. Judging by photos from previous events, we had a record turn-out this time, and also a record number of photographers in attendance—this latter fact caused some headaches at the beginning of the event when trying to take a group photo by Piccadilly Arcade, as there were so many people with cameras thrusting forwards that it was impossible for anyone to get far enough away to capture the whole group. The sole shot of mine from that scrimmage (above) was taken by holding the camera over my head and hoping for the best.
Chap editor Gustav Temple attempts to read from The Young Man's Companion, though no-one is really listening
Of course the perennial problem with an event like this is: how to you organise something that is meant to be spontaneous and unstructured? Of course this plays to The Chap’s strengths, as every event organised by that organ is fairly unstructured, even if it isn’t meant to be. The past couple of Grand Flan walks I’ve been on had actually had designated end points—last year it ended at Vout-o-Reeneé’s, which had opened its doors for an afterparty, and the year before the Camden Watch Company had offered to host a reception. In the absence of such a destination, I suspect we started losing members of the peloton fairly early on.
Gustav Temple, the man without a plan
After an hour’s worth of lingering by the statue of Beau Brummell on Jermyn Street, we this time headed west, then south on to The Mall. So far it was strangely reminiscent of the recent London Hat Walk, which followed the same route. But where that jaunt ended at the Victoria Memorial, the Grand Flan bodyswerved along Constitution Hill and past the Wellington Arch before making a beeline for the Grenadier pub on Wilton Row. I couldn’t swear that everyone made it that far, but after this it became a bit more diffuse, with the company drifting in clumps on to the Star Tavern on Belgrave Mews and then the Antelope on Eaton Terrace. Yes, it was a glorified pub crawl. It’s possible that people went on somewhere else beyond the Antelope, but by about 7pm I made my excuses and left.
Hats off to the curious photographic group who not only brought a white backdrop with them, but carried it from pub to pub, photographing members of the troupe. I’m told they were making some sort of documentary.
As ever it was a delightful social adventure and I met many new faces. Moreover, the enquiries I got from passers by showed that it was also doing its job of flying the flag for finer dressing, the dandy aesthetic, snubbing convention, and proving that you can be elegant and a wastrel at the same time. See you all next year.
You can see many more photos from the event at https://www.flickr.com/photos/sheridanclub/albums/72177720316800259.
