This was an interesting little phase circa 1970 that almost cost me my right eye.  I've no definite intention of returning to the subject of suedeheads, but, lacking Russell Street's knowledge of Ivy clothing, I'm having to throw in bits and pieces as they occur to me.  Anyway, here in the gritty Midlands, likely lads (and sometimes lasses) acquired cheap brollies which were then used as offensive weapons.  They tended to be wearing Prince of Wales jackets with big lapels, lacy shirts, 'Ruperts' and those crappy English loafers Uncle hated so intensely.  I was stabbed by one of these beauties, and almost fell foul of another pair in the grounds of Nottingham Castle.  Managed to talk my way out of that one.

England whilst I was growing up was no place for a sensitive child like meself.