Over one hundred flaneurs and flaneuses gathered under inclement skies to take their first bold steps in Winter. Photos by Xavier Buendia
Sunday 23rd November 2025 was a day when history was made. Hitherto, the participants in the Grand Flaneur Walk had only had the courage to set forth on the saunter sans purpose under the clement skies of early Summer. This Winter, however, saw the very first incarnation of the Grand Flaneur Winter Walk.
The format was the same as all previous Grand Flaneur Walks. One hundred or so superbly dressed chaps and chapettes assembled by the statue of Beau Brummell on Jermyn Street, London, to socialise, compare boutonnieres and prepare for the gruelling task ahead: to saunter through the streets of London in search of nothing in particular; with no destination, no purpose and no agenda. A rousing recital on the theme of flanerie was read by Gustav Temple – this time from Edgar Allan Poe’s The Man of the Crowd, and, once completed, the flaneurs were eager to get going.
Sartorially, the flaneurs were as visually arresting as ever, resplendent in tweeds, overcoats, felt hats and the occasional fur stole (vintage, obviously). Nobody mentioned the weather, except to remark that there had been more choice in their wardrobes to select the day’s outfit, chaps and chapettes being more Winter than Summer creatures.
Once it was time to set off, naturally long discussions took place as to which direction to take. Perhaps half an hour later, it was agreed that they should head vaguely towards Trafalgar Square, simply because they never had before. Guided by the cane of Mr. Temple, held aloft so it could be seen by those at the rear guard of a 100-strong crowd, the flaneurs made their way towards Covent Garden.
It was universally agreed that a pause for refreshments was required. Unfortunately, the precise locale had not been universally agreed, and there occurred a split, with one half of the flaneurs entering the Courtyard Wine Cellars under the Piazza, and the other half ending up in the Lamb & Flag. A fleet of messenger boys, disguised as mobile telephones, eventually reunited the group, and, collectively refreshed, they proceeded ensemble towards whom knew where.
The saunter sans purpose straggled northwards from Covent Garden, through the land of Charles Dickens and the debating societies who gather in Conway Hall, towards a remote oasis named the Lamb, on Lamb’s Conduit Street. Having been so recently traumatised by losing some of their flock, these lambs ensured they would never be parted again (at least not that evening) by remaining firmly and comfortably seated within the cosy banquettes of the Lamb.
A special thanks must be extended to the doyens of Courtyard Wine Cellars for welcoming the flaneurs and providing them with fuel for their further wanderings.
A tremendous event; we look forward already to next year’s (and to the Summer flaneur in between times). Young Bertrand Russel “Bertie” Marlowe (hound) also enjoyed his first Flaneur, and will doubtless attend the next.