MEMBERS of the tribe had been seen around for a while. Indeed, with their raucous cries (“OK Yah!” “AbsolOOTli!”), they were hard to ignore. Individuals would be spotted in the Fulham Road, in navy Husky and Hermès scarf knotted on the chin, greeting each other with air-kisses on either cheek; or lying blotto on some college lawn the morning after a May Ball, black tie just about together. At sales time at Harvey Nicks or on race days at Ascot they would descend in squawking flocks. Yet the secret rules of this tribe, its rituals and codes, were unanatomised until Ann Barr, as features editor at Harpers & Queen, turned her beady gaze upon them.
From 1975 onwards Miss Barr commissioned and collected in multiple manila envelopes snippets, stories and features relating to Sloanes, and wove them into “The Official Sloane Ranger Handbook”, co-authored with Peter York, in 1982. The typical pair, she surmised, were probably a Henry (Hooray in his wild youth) and a Caroline. He would have a not-too-demanding job in the City to which he commuted daily, wearing his father’s suit, striped shirt (Jermyn Street...
from The Economist: Obituary http://ift.tt/1HvVMFj
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