Legend of Goodwood's golden racing era and Le Mans winner Roy Salvadori once famously said "give me Goodwood on a summer's day and you can forget the rest".
The red & yellow of the Racecourse can be traced back hundreds of years, even captured in our stunning Stubbs paintings in the Goodwood Collection
Whoa Simon! A horse so determined and headstrong, he not only won the 1883 Goodwood Cup by 20 lengths, but couldn't be stopped and carried on running over the top of Trundle hill
Our gin uses wild-grown botanicals sourced from the estate, and is distilled with mineral water naturally chalk-filtered through the South Downs.
After a fire in 1791 at Richmond House in Whitehall, London, James Wyatt added two great wings to showcase the saved collection at Goodwood. To give unity to the two new wings, Wyatt added copper-domed turrets framing each façade.
Built in 1787 by celebrated architect James Wyatt to house the third Duke of Richmond’s prized fox hounds, The Kennels was known as one of the most luxurious dog houses in the world!
Sir Stirling Moss was one of the founding patrons of the Festival of Speed, and a regular competitor at the Revival.
A bell under each place at the table to signal if butlers can come back in to the dining room, a guests privacy is always paramount.
Our gin uses wild-grown botanicals sourced from the estate, and is distilled with mineral water naturally chalk-filtered through the South Downs.
The Fiat S76 or "Beast of Turin" is a Goodwood favourite and can usually be heard before it is seen at #FOS
Legend of Goodwood's golden racing era and Le Mans winner Roy Salvadori once famously said "give me Goodwood on a summer's day and you can forget the rest".
Our replica of the famous motor show showcases the "cars of the future" in true Revival style
The bricks lining the Festival of Speed startline are 100 years old and a gift from the Indianapolis Speedway "Brickyard" in 2011 to mark their centenary event!
The red & yellow of the Racecourse can be traced back hundreds of years, even captured in our stunning Stubbs paintings in the Goodwood Collection
Leading women of business, sport, fashion and media, take part in one of the most exciting horseracing events in the world.
Leading women of business, sport, fashion and media, take part in one of the most exciting horseracing events in the world.
The first public race meeting took place in 1802 and, through the nineteenth century, ‘Glorious Goodwood,’ as the press named it, became a highlight of the summer season
Leading women of business, sport, fashion and media, take part in one of the most exciting horseracing events in the world.
The first ever horsebox was used from Goodwood to Doncaster for the 1836 St. Leger. Elis arrived fresh and easily won his owner a £12k bet.
One Summer, King Edward VII turned his back on the traditional morning suit, and donned a linen suit and Panama hat. Thus the Glorious Goodwood trend was born.
Goodwood Motor Circuit was officially opened in September 1948 when Freddie March, the 9th Duke and renowned amateur racer, tore around the track in a Bristol 400
The first ever round of golf played at Goodwood was in 1914 when the 6th Duke of Richmond opened the course on the Downs above Goodwood House.
The exquisite mirror in the Ballroom of Goodwood House it so big they had to raise the ceiling to get it inside!
The iconic spitfire covered almost 43,000 kilometres and visited over 20 countries on its epic journey and currently resides at our Aerodrome.
One of the greatest golfers of all time, James Braid designed Goodwood’s iconic Downland course, opened in 1914.
One of the greatest golfers of all time, James Braid designed Goodwood’s iconic Downland course, opened in 1914.
The first ever round of golf played at Goodwood was in 1914 when the 6th Duke of Richmond opened the course on the Downs above Goodwood House.
The first thing ever dropped at Goodwood was a cuddly elephant which landed in 1932 just as the 9th Duke of Richmonds passion for flying was taking off.
Flying jetpacks doesn't have to just be a spectator sport at FOS, you can have a go at our very own Aerodrome!
The Motor Circuit was known as RAF Westhampnett, active from 1940 to 1946 as a Battle of Britain station.
After a fire in 1791 at Richmond House in Whitehall, London, James Wyatt added two great wings to showcase the saved collection at Goodwood. To give unity to the two new wings, Wyatt added copper-domed turrets framing each façade.
Ensure you take a little time out together to pause and take in the celebration of all the hard work you put in will be a treasured memory.
One of the greatest golfers of all time, James Braid designed Goodwood’s iconic Downland course, opened in 1914.
The first thing ever dropped at Goodwood was a cuddly elephant which landed in 1932 just as the 9th Duke of Richmonds passion for flying was taking off.
Just beyond Goodwood House along the Hillclimb, the 2nd Dukes banqueting house was also known as "one of the finest rooms in England" (George Vertue 1747).
Easy boy! The charismatic Farnham Flyer loved to celebrate every win with a pint of beer. His Boxer dog, Grogger, did too and had a tendancy to steal sips straight from the glass.
Easy boy! The charismatic Farnham Flyer loved to celebrate every win with a pint of beer. His Boxer dog, Grogger, did too and had a tendancy to steal sips straight from the glass.
Easy boy! The charismatic Farnham Flyer loved to celebrate every win with a pint of beer. His Boxer dog, Grogger, did too and had a tendancy to steal sips straight from the glass.
Easy boy! The charismatic Farnham Flyer loved to celebrate every win with a pint of beer. His Boxer dog, Grogger, did too and had a tendancy to steal sips straight from the glass.
We have been host to many incredible film crews using Goodwood as a backdrop for shows like Downton Abbey, Hollywood Blockbusters like Venom: let there be Carnage and the Man from U.N.C.L.E.
Inspired by the legendary racer, Masten Gregory, who famously leapt from the cockpit of his car before impact when approaching Woodcote Corner in 1959.
With flares re-appearing in menswear collections by Gucci, Tom Ford and Dries Van Noten – and on the legs of pop icon Harry Styles and other stylish men about town – Alex Bilmes asks, do you dare to flare?
Words by Alex Bilmes
I blame Harry Styles. Once, as the prettiest boy in that prettiest of boybands, One Direction, Styles was a skinny-jeaned scamp who bestrode the narrow pop world like a mop-topped colossus, insofar as it’s possible to bestride anything in denim that restricting. In recent years Styles has reinvented himself, in musical but especially sartorial terms, as a cross between a Laurel Canyon flower child (winsome, ethereal, extremely wide-trousered) and a louche disco troubadour (sexy, snake-hipped, extremely wide-trousered). Harry Styles wears flares – serious,Saturday Night Fever-style loons — and rarely since the heady days of Travolta in his prime has any single male pinup exerted such influence on the width of trouser hems appearing in the recent men’s fashion collections.
This reporter last saw Harry Styles — with a name like that, how could the fashion establishment resist? — in the flesh in Rome, in the summer of 2019. The occasion was a party celebrating the latest collection from Gucci, the label that, under designer Alessandro Michele, has led the way in terms of publicity and sales in recent years, and for whom Styles serves as model and muse. Michele’s aesthetic fuses multiple youth cult styles of the Sixties and Seventies, from beatnik to goth, but the overarching affect is early-Seventies hippy royalty — Talitha Getty in full regalia — and, sure enough, the entertainment at the Gucci party in Rome was supplied by no less a countercultural icon than Fleetwood Mac’s gypsy fire-woman, Stevie Nicks. Harry Styles joined her on stage to duet on her deathless hit, “Landslide”.
He was wearing a double-breasted suit in off-white, trousers impressively flared, over a low-cut white vest, the better to show off the matching pair of swallows tattooed on his chest. His hair, as American singer-songwriter Warren Zevon once reported of the werewolf of London, was perfect.
Of course, in fashion as in pop, there’s nothing new under the sun, and Styles is paying conspicuous homage to the great flare-wearers of so many of our youths. (Though not his youth, since he wasn’t born until 1994.) I’m thinking of the enduring public representatives of mid-Seventies men’s style: Bruce Lee; the teenage Michael Jackson; Bryan Ferry in his lounge-lizard prime; Starsky and Hutch, and their English equivalents, Bodie and Doyle of The Professionals; those bell-bottomed sensations, the Bay City Rollers; and my personal favourite and every journalist’s fantasy figure, Robert Redford, circa All The President’s Men. Women, too, of course: Lauren Hutton, Pam Grier, Farrah Fawcett and her fellow Angels.
Even back then, flares were a statement. They were a statement best made by the young, and beautiful, and thin. See above list. And so, unless you are one, or preferably all three, of those (lucky you), flares are not necessarily to be trusted (even if, as well as Gucci, the look was also on show at Tom Ford and Dries Van Noten). They might be generous to ankles, but they can be terribly unkind to hips. Those whose dancefloor diva days are behind them might be advised to give them a wide — a very wide — berth. The same can be said of much of the current youthquake-inspired styles: tie-dye, bandannas, beads.
I have a friend and colleague, the dashing Ben Cobb, of LOVE magazine, who has been rocking flared trousers, wide-lapelled jackets, unbuttoned spread-collared silk shirts, ankle boots and aviator sunglasses since Harry Styles was still in short trousers. Ben, a front-row fixture at the men’s shows in Paris, Milan and beyond, is, I believe, as much responsible for fashion’s current obsession with swaggering Seventies style as anyone. He wears clothes from Gucci, Tom Ford, Saint Laurent, Dries Van Noten, mixed with some vintage pieces. It looks terrific on him. But he is whippet thin, teak tanned, daringly moustached and preternaturally cool. He lives the look.
I confess that, born in 1973, I was too young for flares the first time around. (There are, it’s true, photos — redacted — of me on an outward-bound course on Dartmoor in the summer of 1984, in which my bell bottoms got into a frightful tangle after snagging on a gorse bush. But that was an aberration.)
The closest I came was in the late Eighties when, as a spotty teenaged devotee of the Stone Roses and Happy Mondays, the bands associated with the so-called Madchester phenomenon, I arrayed myself in baggy long-sleeve T-shirts, bucket hats, Lennon specs and the briefly ubiquitous “straights” — hilariously flappy jeans (32”!) that weren’t really flares because they were wide from belt to toe, rather than flaring at the bottom. Mine were made by the Lancashire couturier Joe Bloggs. Wearing them, I felt – to quote the legend printed on a popular t-shirt of the period – “cool as f**k”. No doubt I looked ridiculous. That’s OK, I was 17, and skinny as a cigarette. Like Harry and Ben, I could get away with it. I wouldn’t dare try it now. Some things are best left to the professionals. And The Professionals.
Alex Bilmes is editor in chief of Esquire.