JOANNE Watkinson
I am shocked to learn that we don’t all have an internal monologue. If you are one of these people then you may need further explanation.
An internal monologue is the voice in your head that, for me, narrates pretty much everything I do in all my waking hours.
It’s more opinionated than I am, braver, and sometimes says things I wish I could say out loud. Other times I’m glad it is censored by my silence.
My inner monologue frequently takes on the accent of the latest TV I have watched. More often than not it’s the westcoast drawl of the Real Housewives of LA. Squid Game was interesting, but now Korean has been ditched for American east-coast with a side note of acerbic put down.
If you haven’t guessed what I am watching, the chances are you haven’t yet seen Succession. And I thought I was late to the party!
Feel free to call out my bias but the creator Jesse Armstrong is British and it shows. The HBO series is Shakespearean in quality, albeit featuring a lot of swearing and the stars are immaculately constructed – as are their wardrobes.
No spoilers but a little context – the characters are billionaires, or silly rich as I like to call it.
Born into money, their clothes aren’t the overtly showy branded items you might assume.
They are obviously expensive but subtle nonetheless.
Michelle Maitland, the show’s costume designer, has recreated the superrich wardrobe I have always imagined.
As expected from a show about the American media industry, it’s a male-heavy cast who she swathes in super-swish tailoring, some from Manhattan-based British tailor Leonard Logsdail, sometimes paired with inconspicuous, logo-free baseball caps and a faultless selection of sunglasses.
Inevitably it’s the female protagonist, Shiv, who I watch most closely. Everything about her look, Marlene Dietrichinspired high-waisted trousers paired with high heels, fine-gauge polo necks, and silk tops worn in impossibly pale shades scream “I don’t do public transport and I don’t iron my own clothes”.
It’s power dressing 2.0, exposed shoulders, blazer dresses and collarless blouses, and all set off by the immaculately blown bob she stormed into series two with.
I urge you to watch it. My inner monologue says you’re mad for not having watched it already, but