I am pretty confident that, whatever the misdemeanour, I will always remain at large. Recently, two of my very dearest friends were made Queen's Counsel. As both can now claim "Silk" status, I am assured of an immensely powerful defence team if matters every reach court.
Both the newly anointed hosted parties* to mark this significant professional progress, with one at Lincoln's Inn, a wonderful setting which represents a corner of old London as yet relatively unaffected by modern architectural tastes and fashion for ill judged contemporary developments. At these celebratory occasions, perhaps the only notion at odds on the night with the grandeur of location was that graduation to QC status often means a dip in income. The logic is that when you become a QC, you move to a new level at which there are already existing, experienced practising barristers. Sure, your fees rise. But in most cases, with the extra competition, volume of work drops. At least in the short run. At the bar, what goes down, often goes back up.
The notion of "taking Silk" as those at the bar say of colleagues who have been invited to become Queen's Counsel, is an interesting use of language. To use a fabric or material to describe this elevation to the highest advocacy status illustrates the value people generally place on the quality of cloth. (Needless to say, bear this in mind when next buying a shirt).
The ceremony to assign silk status further highlights the importance of what you wear. Required dress, such as the ceremonial robe, is traditional legal wear dating back to 1604 when James 1 created a new legal ranking. Garments for the ceremony are often, naturally enough, made of silk, and also generally represent the best traditions and heritage of British tailoring.
The wig, itself, is also symbolic of old sartorial standards. Most newly appointed QCs hire one for the ceremony. Then those who want to own such an item have the option of a version with part man-made fibres or the traditional "spaniel wig" made in keeping with over 400 years of history. The latter leaves you with little change from £3,000. But, having reached the summit, most are happy to invest in the authentic even if occasions when the wig is required are limited these days to appearance at only the very highest courts.
Certainly, much of today's legal work doesn't require the full QC regalia. Collarless shirts, for example, are no longer daily wear and are now largely found only in the specialist shops on Chancery Lane at the heart of London's legal district.
Still, the shirt remains a key element to any successful advocate. You can be sure that the very best barristers - such as those who buy the spaniel wig as a keepsake - do not stint on quality when it comes to their appearance in court.
The logic is undeniable. A well-cut, sharply pressed, double cuff shirt, with collar to your taste, has a two-edged effect. Not only do you look smart, you also feel smart. Imagine, then, if you are, yourself, facing someone in debate or indeed in court. You have on a Hilditch and Key shirt. Your adversary, meanwhile, has a, well, you know the inferior options. The argument is over before the case has begun.
* Appropriate gift to buy a new QC? A Hilditch and Key handkerchief. Silk, of course.
Colin Cameron
Colin Cameron writes about lifestyle for a range of newspapers, including the Financial Times, and magazines. His next book, "You Bet", on the cultural, social and political impact of the explosion in Internet betting since 2000, will be published by Harper Collins in 2009.