George Bryan "Beau" Brummell (7 June 1778 – 30 March 1840)[1] was an important figure in Regency England, and for many years he was the arbiter of British men's fashion.

At one time, he was a close friend of the Prince Regent, the future King George IV, but after the two quarrelled and Brummell got into debt, he had to take refuge in France.

The statesman Charles Jenkinson, 1st Earl of Liverpool, stayed there for a time and got the younger William a clerical position at the Treasury, which led to his successful career.

[8][9][10] The family had achieved middle class status, but William Brummell was ambitious for his son George to become a gentleman, and he was raised with that understanding.

In June 1794, Brummell joined the 10th Light Dragoons, later the Tenth Royal Hussars as a cornet, the lowest rank of commissioned officer,[14] and soon after had his nose broken by a kick from a horse.

"[17]In 1797,[18] when his regiment was sent from London to Manchester, he immediately resigned his commission, citing the city's poor reputation, undistinguished ambience and want of culture and civility.

He became a noted figure in fashion and adopted a habit of dress that rejected overly ornate clothes in favour of understated but perfectly fitted and tailored bespoke garments; this was the moment of the so-called Great Male Renunciation seen across Europe.

His daily dress was similar to that of other gentlemen in his time, based upon dark coats and full-length trousers (rather than knee breeches and stockings).

[21] Brummell took a house on Chesterfield Street in Mayfair[22] and, for a time, managed to avoid the nightly gaming and other extravagances frequent in such elevated circles.

Where he refused to economise was on his dress: when asked how much it would cost to keep a single man in clothes, he was said to have replied: "Why, with tolerable economy, I think it might be done with £800",[23] at a time when the average annual wage for a craftsman was £52.

Brummell put into practice the principles of harmony of shape and contrast of colours with such a pleasing result that men of superior rank sought his opinion on their own dress: The Duke of Bedford once did this touching a coat.

He turned him about, scanned him with scrutinizing, contemptuous eye, and then taking the lapel between his dainty finger and thumb, he exclaimed in a tone of pitying wonder, "Bedford, do you call this thing a coat?

"[25]His personal habits, such as a fastidious attention to cleaning his teeth, shaving, and daily bathing exerted an influence on the ton—the upper echelons of polite society—who began to do likewise.

Enthralled, the Prince would spend hours in Brummell's dressing room, witnessing the progress of his friend's lengthy morning toilette.

He found it increasingly difficult to maintain his lifestyle as his spending continued over time, but his prominent position in society allowed him to float a line of credit.

[36] He lived the remainder of his life in French exile, spending ten years in Calais without an official passport, before acquiring an appointment to the consulate at Caen in 1830 through the influence of Lord Alvanley and the Duke of Beaufort.

This provided him with a small annuity to fuel his new life in France; however, this lasted only two years because the Foreign Office acted on Brummell's recommendation to abolish the consulate.

Rapidly running out of money and growing increasingly slovenly in his dress, he was forced by his long-unpaid Calais creditors into debtors' prison in 1835.

Scarcely had he left England than he was satirised as the witty Bellair in the picaresque novel Six Weeks at Long's, by a Late Resident (1817), now ascribed to Eaton Stannard Barrett.

He possessed also a sort of quaint, dry humour, not amounting to anything like wit; indeed, he said nothing which would bear repetition; but his affected manners and little absurdities amused for the moment.

Then it became the fashion to court Brummell's society, which was enough to make many seek it who cared not for it; and many more wished to be well with him through fear, for all knew him to be cold, heartless, and satirical.

One such is the character Trebeck in Thomas Henry Lister's Granby (1826), who abandons dandyism when he discovers a waistcoat of his devising worn by "a natty apprentice".

[51] In Bulwer Lytton's 1828 novel Pelham, the hero of the title passes through Calais and meets the inspiration of his dandiacal way of life in the character of Mr. Russelton.

More recently, Brummell was made the detective-hero of a series of period mysteries by Californian novelist Rosemary Stevens, starting with Death on a Silver Tray in 2000.

[60] A further film, Beau Brummell, was made in 1954 with Stewart Granger playing the title role, Peter Ustinov as the Prince of Wales, and Elizabeth Taylor as Lady Patricia Belham.