How have I survived all these years without a valet stand?

Others might have spent their festive lull at fireside pubs or on the sofa; I spent mine eyeing my wardrobe with the grim determination of a seasoned climber mounting Everest. I resolved to utilise the days off for a good ‘winter clean’ of knitwear I’d long forgotten about, yellowing shirts and all that stuff that clutters up my small one-bed flat.

You’d expect, due to a job as a men’s style authority, that I’d have this nailed, but issues of space vs the volume of clothes means it’s like the never-ending painting of the Forth Road Bridge, but with slithering heaps of shoes and tailored jackets shamefully sardined together.

Which is why, beleaguered and absent-mindedly scanning Instagram amidst the jenga-like piles, a friend’s approach to outfit planning appealed so thoroughly. A valet stand, to be precise, laid out with everything every man (or woman for that matter), may need to be smart, organised and ready for the next morning – whether it’s cufflinks that match shirts or the right sweater to layer over a dress.

“It was actually a stalwart of my office back in our pre-Covid days,” explains Tom Chamberlin, editor of The Rake magazine and owner of said swaggeringly handsome mahogany valet. “I’d use it for hanging eveningwear ahead of an event.”

The device was packed off home when offices shuttered in the pandemic, and has been a fixture of his house ever since. It wasn’t until a few clips on Tiktok took off that Chamberlin realised curiosity had been piqued about such items at the more sartorial end of the fashion market.

“I started doing videos of dressing with the help of my valet stand, and some of them garnered 200k views on Tiktok. What’s fascinating is that, for a very traditional item, 42% of the people engaging with it were in the 18-24 bracket.”

Clearly, there’s a fascination for this Downton Abbey-esque piece of bedroom kit amongst the iPhone-happy, trainer-wearing Gen Z youths. Perhaps because valet stands are beautiful, but also something of a relic from a time when your grandfather would polish his shoes on a Sunday and your grandmother would lay out her pearls on her dressing table ready for the morning. So does the dashing Mr Chamberlin really get use from his?

“Yes, it’s a thing of beauty, but it’s actually very practical. I have two children, so very limited time in the morning, and it means that after they’ve gone off to school I’ve got everything laid out and ready to put on for the day. It’s a reminder to think about what you’ll need for the following morning,” says Chamberlin, whose videos have featured New Year’s Eve eveningwear and pin-smart suiting. Can a style slattern such as myself ever hope to organise myself in such a way?

All in the noble name of journalism, I track a modern looking version made from beech by John Lewis, costing £60, and put it to the test. A female colleague is particularly enthusiastic and snaps one up too, realising that it will force her to plan outfits every night and it even has a place to lay out matching jewellery and shoes.

In my Jeeves & Wooster fantasies, the ideal valet stand would be a handsome mahogany beast, majestic in its form and steadfast in its purpose; Chamberlin’s is by the specialist valet-maker Honorific. But for my needs, let’s take baby steps. Certainly, mine has presence in a room – it stands at torso height and looks sleek once you’ve grappled with the tiresome assembly – and there’s something ceremonial about selecting a particular jacket to take pride of place, like the presentation of my first born.

I happen to be heading to birthday drinks before the Telegraph shoot, so by virtue of its pride of place in my house it encourages some forward thought on the matter, instead of rustling through the wardrobe at the last minute. A valet stand undressed is a lonely sight – it demands to be dressed.

Secondly, it helps clear the decks of all that stuff; the cufflinks that litter the mantlepiece in the bedroom, the collar stays, lapel pins and general hardware detritus all find a home in the tray section. Ties too, which would ideally be on a tie rack but languish somewhat over cupboard doors – whereas a valet stand actively celebrates them.

So should you look into investing in one? “They are certainly a niche item,” says Sam Brown of the Gentleman’s Valet Company, an interior designer and furniture maker before he created his specialist valet stand brand, focusing on astonishingly beautiful variants in oak and walnut as well as hat stands.

The valet stands cost upwards of £4,500. “I discovered that there was a real market amongst the kind of men who wear bespoke suits for work”, says Brown, who notes that wives and girlfriends often seek out valet stands as a unique gift idea.

One of his well-heeled clients asked to have one created for each of his homes (I’m often outfitting my myriad homes in gentlemanly dressing aids, aren’t you?)

Will I be upgrading the trusty John Lewis variety? Perhaps; the thing about a valet stand is that it relies upon an edit of your wardrobe, which is no bad thing, and it also makes a virtue of your clothes – I’d forgotten how pleasing it is to look upon a certain silk scarf or the lustre of a velvet jacket.

Until I secure my own Jeeves or Carson, it’s an informed alternative. Marie Kondo’s organisational minimalism might be for some, but a real gentleman opts for a valet stand.

Where to buy a valet stand

Symple Stuff valet stand, £104.99, Wayfair

Wire valet unit, £108.50, La Redoute 

Ash wood valet stand, £199.99, Zara Home 

Rubberwood clothes valet, £89.99, H&M 

Bamboo clothes valet stand, £49, A Place for Everything