IT IS said that only the insecure worry about their clothes, and that

the most reliable sign of self-confidence is to dress comfortably. This

is especially true of shoes. Lord Healey, often claimed to be the best

Prime Minister we never had, now pads about the Upper House wearing

trainers. John Christie, the founder of Glyndbourne, wore tennis shoes

even with evening dress. It is against this background that one should

view the sartorial habits of Mr Kenneth Clarke, who is causing concern

over the state of his Hush Puppies. His soft brown shoes have become so

scruffy that the British Shoe Corporation set in motion inquiries to

find out his size, to provide a free supply of new ones. The Chancellor

wears size eight, it was discovered, but to no avail.

A similarly unsuccessful exercise, we recall, was carried out by Coco

Chanel, who became appalled at the condition of the shoes of the Duke of

Westminster. Her friend was extremely rich, but also extremely mean, and

continued to have his shoes re-soled long after the uppers were

disreputable. She ordered him a dozen new pairs, only to see him

deliberately walking through puddles to soften them and take off the

shine.

Not all of Mr Clarke's predecessors have resisted the call to improve

their image. Cecil Parkinson persuaded Mrs Thatcher not only to

encourage Nigel Lawson to see a barber, but to discard his yellow

waistcoats. By contrast, the present Chancellor's ill-fitting trousers

and scuffed brown shoes are a signal that he is not to be brow-beaten.

The

hint has already been taken by the stock

broking firm of Cazenove. Its New York office, in particular, was once

a stickler for correct dress, and would send wearers of slip-on shoes,

especially those made of suede, to the tradesmen's entrance. With Mr

Clarke's fearless example doubtless in mind, even investment bankers are

now said to be arriving in Gucci loafers.