Lawn Tennis

At the turn of the 20^th century there were approximately 1,000 British citizens residing in Smyrna, present-day Izmir, in Turkey, and it was a period when Anglicanism was filled with growth, vitality, and missionary activity. Born in Lancashire, England, Domini Elliadi was the daughter of a well-to-do Greek merchant from Smyrna, and trained upon her were the eyes of one Arthur Smythe Hichens, the Kent-born pastor at the Buca Anglican Church. Elliadi was intelligent and quite coquettish and, after a stellar education at the Greek Evangeliki School, she began to receive recognition for her sporting grace, particularly at the Smyrna Lawn Tennis Club. The minister was well acquainted with Domini’s parents, but it was her bright demeanour and individuality that Hichens found most absorbing, as he would recount in his letters to his older brother Robert in Britain.

Robert was no ordinary fellow and, living between Switzerland and the Riviera, he would leave an avant-garde legacy through the creative and inventive disciplines in which he majored. He was a revered journalist, novelist and music lyricist, best remembered in the United Kingdom as a satirist of the “Naughty Nineties”. At the time Arthur was mailing letters via steamship his brother had already written eight novels, and upon receiving letters from Smyrna he found inspiration for his ninth novel, the iconoclastically named ‘The Garden of Allah’. Enchanted and curious about the young lady described in the letters, Robert decided to place Elliadi at the centrepoint of his romantic drama novel under the slightly altered alias of Domini Enfliden. Published by Methuen and Company in 1904, the novel garnered an enthusiastic reception from critics, including William L. Alden of The New York Times, who commented that Hichens had “handled a good plot in a very skilful and satisfactory way”.

Within the realms of Hollywood cinema and its hedonistic tendencies during the Golden Age, the novel The Garden of Allah arguably eclipsed any other for influence. The 1936 film The Garden of Allah, a lavish and beatified full-length technicolour picture starring Marlene Dietrich as Domini Enfilden, succeeded the release of silent movie versions in 1916 and 1927, the latter directly based on the novel. But its cultural influence extended beyond movies; as a hotel, better described as a clandestine bungalow, it hosted the East Coast glitterati. Initially its proprietor, the silent-screen actress Madame Alla Nazimova, jokingly dubbed it “The Garden of Alla”. However, Alla Nazimova soon encountered financial difficulties, and the new owners would normalise the spelling of the hotel’s name to “The Garden of Allah”. Dietrich’s fame for swimming in the nude at the hotel was partly due to serendipity, but it’s important to note that her voluptuousness extended beyond the film and hotel. When she began receiving tennis coaching in Palm Springs from Fred Perry, the three-time British Wimbledon singles champion, a courtship began.

But returning to Elliadi, very few people knew that the protagonist in the novel was not a figment of the Hichens’ imagination, despite the 1936 film The Garden of Allah achieving global success. Today, Bucharest in Romania occasionally goes by the moniker “little Paris”, but during Elliadi’s life in Smyrna that city earned the same nickname, due to its constant traffic of travellers, businessmen, and artists. One of those explorers was Sir Arthur Crosfield, known as the “Soap King”, who, after inheriting and selling Joseph Crosfield & Sons, visited with the aim of assisting the missionary schools in the area and gathering data for a piece about the ‘oppression of Christians in Turkey’. Local authorities found his conduct amicable and, probably aware of his social standing, they invited him to a dinner reception, which was actually held in his honour. It was there that he met Domini, was instantly captivated by her and fell in love. At the time there were rumours that Domini was engaged to a member of the Giraud family. However, despite a twenty-year age gap, Domini succumbed to his advances, becoming Lady Crosfield, and the following years would bless husband and wife with an unparalleled deluxe existence.

They married in 1907, the year after Arthur Crosfield won the Warrington seat from the Conservative Robert Pierpont during the Liberal landslide. At the onset of the next decade Sir Arthur secured re-election, acquired Parkfield House, reconstructed it in Queen Anne style and emerged victorious in the French Open Amateur Championship of golf. Meanwhile, his wife continued to exhibit her sporting prowess, competing at Wimbledon in 1911, 1926 and 1928, and also became a politician in her own right. And in the midst of living with the kind of cachet that only royals could bestow, in 1920 Witanhurst House was erected in Highgate, north London, becoming London’s second-largest residence, after Buckingham Palace.

Lawn tennis had emerged only at the end of the previous decade, but with a spouse who had already graced the grass courts at the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club at Wimbledon, an enviable social circle and a London estate, with available wealth to spur him on Sir Arthur hired the eminent landscape architect Harold Peto to create Italianate gardens at Witanhurst. Peto constructed a picturesque loggia in the grounds, allowing the family to enjoy the luxury of gazing out at their four idyllic tennis courts. Before long, Witanhurst began to host the elite of sporting and aristocratic society following the Wimbledon fortnight every year, a tradition that continued until Lady Crossfield’s death in 1963. Guests included no less than Bertie, the Duke of York, later to become King George VI, and in 1951 his daughter Princess Elizabeth, later Queen Elizabeth II, was pictured enjoying the tennis and conversing with the haute monde friends of Lady Crosfield. However, it’s important to pay tribute to the Duke of York for becoming the only British royal member to have competed at Wimbledon. At the Grand Slam in 1926, he donned immaculate tennis whites alongside his friend, Group Captain Sir Louis Greig, in the men’s doubles, but sadly they failed to reach the second round.

In the early days of the 20th century passers-by would be unable to distinguish that women played tennis if not for their rackets. Today’s breathable fabrics, often adorned with embossed colours, are in stark contrast to their restrictive clothing of petticoats, ankle-length skirts and corsets. But the emergence of French player Suzanne Lenglen, winner of six Wimbledon titles from 1919–1925, and American player Helen Wills Moody, winner of eight Wimbledon titles from 1927–1938, would be instrumental in altering opinions on dress codes. An elegant lady, Wills Moody was a popular guest at the charity tennis parties at Witanhurst, where she certainly entrenched her iconic fashion accessory in the white eye-shade/visor, which the general public both on and off the court would adopt.

However, Lenglen was arguably the frontierswoman for the introduction of some panache, wearing a controversially short skirt and tight top underneath, whilst she was also renowned for donning a full-length mink coat. Instead of glugging down sports drinks, she would replace them with brandy, consumed with a full face of makeup, which was most certainly a trailblazing way in which to present yourself on Centre Court at Wimbledon. If anyone was lucky enough to attend the final between these two tennis fashion goddesses at the Carlton Club tournament in Cannes in 1926, they would have been seated in the galleries to witness what is to this day called the Match of the Century.

Like Lenglen, it seems that French residents have not only a penchant for rallying in chic outfits, but they’re also not averse to a tipple during a drink or towel break, and certainly when the chair umpire says, “Game, set, match”. It is true that in Lenglen’s era tennis wasn’t a professional sport, and Alexander Kraft won’t mind admitting that matches at the bucolic tennis court of his wonderful home in Provence are not professional – and so he and his friends during a set break are known to pour a glass of Kraftoni. To accompany a drop of gin, a cigar from the enviable AK MC collection is a soothing option, not to settle any nerves but for a consummate interval with friends.

At Kraft’s home, mini tennis tournaments really do represent the authenticity of informal lawn tennis, and that is equally true with the attire and accessories you will witness. Born at the family estate, Castle Nettlingen, in Lower Saxony, Germany, Gottfried von Cramm was a debonair competitor during the 1930s and ‘40s. He would arrive to court in an off-white elegant cotton blazer adorned with coloured bands, which would overlap the white double-pleated trousers with turn-ups. Equipped with three wooden rackets, this sight wouldn’t be too dissimilar to that of Mr Kraft entering his court, where this cherished traditionalism is only extended with presses covering the rackets, which keeps them flat in their downtimes, and of course the AK MC deconstructed jersey cream cotton tennis blazer. At Kraft’s private yet social court, the white dress code for the players isn’t quite as strict. It’s not unlike Mr Kraft to grace the court in a navy linen double-breasted blazer with bespoke domed brass buttons and the secrets to successfully sporting white trousers, which is a more sartorial entrence you will see at Wimbledon today. The cream cotton Riviera Bermuda shorts further enhance this already elegant ensemble, and the getaway bag, which transports all essential tennis instruments, completes the entrance – all except the racket and press are in the AK MC collection.

Teddy Tinling, infamous player and later couturier, who dressed Maria Bueno and many other female stars of the ‘50s, ‘60s, and ’70s, was instrumental in the further evolution of tennis fashion. “I was given some clothing by Fred Perry, but when Ted Tinling saw me wearing an outfit at Lady Crosfield’s garden party, he kept insisting he must design dresses for me and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” said Bueno, the Brazilian-born three-time Wimbledon ladies singles winner, who was also remembered for her pink knickers and was quite rightly nicknamed the “Tennis Ballerina” for the grace that she displayed when covering the grass of the courts. Bueno’s retirement at the start of the disco decade coincided with the emergence of a troupe of “bad boys” in the form of Jimmy Connors, John McEnroe, Björn Borg, Vitas Gerulaitis and, last but not least, Ilie Nastase, whose documentary on his career, Nasty, premiered at the Cannes Film Festival in May.

Along with the ill-fated 1975 Wimbledon champion Arthur Ashe, the “bad boys” radiated cool. Of them all, Ashe maintained the most traditional elements of dress with his neutral-coloured shirt, occasionally revealing a vintage-coloured placket. However, his tailored-looking shorts, square-framed glasses and gold chain create a look that any budding tennis player should take note of. When Gerulaitis was not cavorting around Studio 54 in a navy velvet jacket, wide-leg trousers and Gucci loafers with his trademark long-shaggy blond hair, on court he still exuded that playboy image through his overly tight short shorts and horizontally patterned shirts.

The inaugural Wimbledon Championship started on July 9, 1877, and is technically older than the modern incarnation of the Olympic Games. Along with Royal Ascot and Henley it is quintessentially British, with its tradition of strawberries, cream, and Pimm’s, as well as its advisable dress code. The truth is that, unlike the Royal Enclosure at Royal Ascot, there isn’t an official Wimbledon dress code, but one should gauge and respect the traditions of SW19 in July and dress accordingly. Centre Court, which now has a retractable roof and is home to the Royal Box, is the one arena where spectators should not stray away from the smart element of smart casual.

Even with a retractable roof, which Court 1 also benefits from, the climate does govern your outfit choices to a degree. If there’s a burst of solar radiation, opt for a Bengal striped shirt made from either a mussola or Egyptian cotton, both delicate fabrics that are renowned for their superior breathability properties. A white and blue-hued Bengal shirt exudes sophistication, especially when paired with a navy double-breasted linen blazer, both styles skillfully crafted as part of the thriving AK MC sartorial enactment. For a scorching day a tie isn’t a necessity, but otherwise a shantung silk tie embodied with sensible patterns will maintain some royal decorum. Competitors are required to dress in an almost entirely white uniform, but the audience’s code extends beyond this single palette. A navy or sand-coloured linen jacket is a classic choice, and at AK MC you can mix and match with trousers, preferably from the Gurkha assortment. If you’re wearing a black pinstriped suit with an Audemars Piguet Royal Oak timepiece, similar to which Prince Michael of Kent has been seen in, a black cap-toe Brogue shoe is a reliable choice. If your suit is slightly more casual, pairing it with a brown Belgian loafer is appropriate. However, it’s best to avoid going sockless at Wimbledon.

On Henman Hill, also known as Murray Mound, where picnics abound and regimental stifling is obsolete, you will still want to feel connected to the historical British grandeur of Wimbledon, which is why a long-sleeve navy polo shirt is a delectable choice. That aura of elegance is maintained to great effect with a Loro Piana merino wool and silk knitted polo shirt, paired with a soft cream cotton drill Riviera trouser, both designs that benefit from sui generis fabric for that comfortable and alluring appearance, and both offered in different colour palettes at AK MC. If you’re not seated at a show court and have a Ground Pass ticket, the above attire will suffice. One enduring aspect of an absent dress code is the ability to express extra personality, and if you can pull off a costume with just the right amount of sprezzatura, onlookers will undoubtedly applaud at the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club at Wimbledon.