Outbursts of colour to lighten these dark days

BOOK OF THE DAY: Redeeming Features: A MemoirBy Nicholas Haslam Jonathan Cape, 348pp, £25

THE SCHIAPARELLI pink and Hermès orange of the dust jacket make plain this is not intended to be a serious read. But then again, nobody least of all himself would claim the author to be an especially serious chap.

For those unfamiliar with his name, it should be explained that Nicholas Haslam is an Englishman – with Irish antecedents on his mother’s side – who works as an interior decorator whenever social commitments permit. His memoirs’ content has been the subject of intense speculation in certain London circles for the better part of a decade and their publication met with mingled delight and trepidation. In the event, most of Haslam’s saucier tales concern the deceased and, perhaps on the advice of his publisher’s libel lawyers, as a rule he is favourably-disposed towards the living. The famous are met, discussed and dissected, the likes of Mick Jagger, Jacqueline Kennedy, Marilyn Monroe, Andy Warhol and it would seem every member, however minor, of the British royal family.

Much more entertaining are the second-division players in Haslam’s story, characters such as Simon Fleet, originally christened Harry Carnes but reinvented when botched surgery altered his appearance more than had originally been intended. And then there is the corsetted “Bunny” Rogers, who after bravely leading his troops in the second World War opened a couture salon in Fortnum & Mason and annually held a new year’s eve ball at which the host would appear attired as the likes of Gloria Swanson.

How is it, one might ask, that a man of relatively modest intellectual and financial means should have been given the opportunity to keep company with so many fascinating people? The photograph accompanying those colourful outbursts of pink and orange on the dust cover provides the answer: young Nicholas was exceptionally good- looking. The American composer Ned Rorem when in his 20s used to write fan letters to anyone he regarded as worth cultivating, and then enclose a photograph of himself wearing bathing trunks.

Haslam never resorted to such tactics; he never had to. If he simply stood still long enough someone would approach him, engage him in conversation, invite him to dinner. And more often than not that someone turned out to be important or rich or well-connected, or even all three. Stranded late one night in Naples, he was rescued by two young men and soon slept in the arms of one: only the following day did he learn this stranger had been Hans Werner Henze whose ballet Ondinewas about to be premiered in Covent Garden.

There appears to be no guile in Haslam and only a little disappointment once his physical appeal had begun to fade. Blessed with an ability to be as amused by himself as by anyone else, he notes that after telling his plastic surgeon to provide “just a few little tucks here and there”, the latter jotted on his notepad: “N Haslam. Full face-lift.” On the day of surgery, his last words before the anaesthetic kicked in were to murmur, “Bryan, do more than we agreed.” Fortunately, unlike many great beauties of this and earlier eras, Haslam also has considerable charm and it fairly pours off the pages of his book.

Even if not quite as dazzling as the finest recent example of this genre, The Sorcerer's Apprenticeby John Richardson, Redeeming Featuresis still a delight to read. It may not be particularly serious but in the present climate that comes as something of a relief.

Robert O'Byrne's most recent book, Romantic Irish Homes, is published by Cico Books