By James Waldron, The Spectator, 6/06 (Good PR for Thomas Mahon)

The only award I ever won during my whole scholastic career was for 'Best Turn Out'. I have a feeling it was a weekly thing, and I only won it once but, rather pathetically, I still cherish the memory. I was reminded of it again the other day while watching Roman office workers in their lunch-hour (or three). I was thinking that if there was an equivalent award for businessmen, Italians would be permanent, unchallenged, worldwide winners.

It's true that sometimes people here seem to be trying a touch too hard. The English country gent look, often attempted, fails to convince because every item looks brand spanking new. The business suit, however, is meant to be pristine, and its inherent sobriety serves to constrain any overdeveloped peacock tendencies.

All that sartorial vigour thus gets channelled into a magnificently obsessive pursuit of perfection. A Roman friend of mine told me that one of the reasons scooters are so popular in the city (highest per capita in the world) is that no other mode of transport allows you to make a crease-free start to the day -- the seats found in buses, cars and trains being very hazardous to the back of the shirt or jacket. Then, at lunchtime, it's not uncommon to go home (although not necessarily one's own home) and have one's trousers pressed.

So it hardly needs saying that there is none of that dress-down rubbish here in Italy.

That unfortunate idea has its roots in Silicon Valley, and really took hold in the UK with the internet bubble, as City-types felt they needed to change into polo shirts and ill-fitting chinos to be taken seriously. In Italy, the idea of computer geek as fashion guru could never catch on. No, here it's suits all the way, and jackets on -- even when venturing out in the midday sun for a casual lunch. When the heat really does get too much to bear, there's always the Naples option. Tailors from that great southern city make a suit of whisperlight cloth, virtually devoid of substructure, and cut to allow freer upper body movement than the Roman style. (Perhaps as a result of global warming, it's now possible to indulge in the bespoke Neapolitan experience in more northerly climes, with Mariano Rubinacci's new branch in London -- see www. marianorubinacci. it).

Heat or no heat, men just tend to look better in suits. There is one notable exception to that rule, however, and that's Fidel Castro.

Those dark double-breasted numbers simply don't cut it like the old combats used to. But that's mainly because they're too big, and that's the thing: suits have to fit. Everyone here knows that it's a very rare man who happens to be just the right shape for a particular house, and thus can afford to buy his suits off the peg.

I was having a chat the other day with my man on the Row, Thomas Mahon (www. englishcut. com; mobile 07811 388 536), and when I mentioned my new-found admiration for the Italian businessman's elegance, he sounded, if not exactly miffed, at least nonplussed.

While acknowledging that the average Italian is decidedly more stylish than the average Brit, he was at pains to point out that if we're talking top end, it's not quite so straightforward. Savile Row savoir faire, and indeed the English cut, enjoy near-mythical status the world over. Thomas himself even does brisk trade on the Italian peninsular -- no names of course, but his handiwork has seen the inside of the very pinnacle of Italian boardrooms. Likewise, English wools and Irish linens are the preferred choice of the best tailors in Italy. We really have no excuse for turning up to the office in gear that no Italian would be caught wearing at home late on a Sunday evening.

Of course, cut is a matter of taste. Some simply prefer the Roman shape, with a jacket shorter than that of Savile Row, and with a less pronounced waist and skirt. In that case, you can do no better than pay a visit to a top Italian tailors, such as Caraceni in Milan (www. caraceni. it). However, if like me you lean towards the English silhouette, my recommendation is the following. Pop over to Rome and have lunch somewhere off the Corso (Ciampini's in Piazza San Lorenzo in Lucina is perfect). Let that relaxed formality, that (seemingly) effortless style, simply wash over you. Then, head straight back to London and commission your suit. Italian flair made flesh by an English tailor.

Unbeatable.