I am one of those people who knows nothing about football. The kind who vaguely holds on to some half-remembered trivia about David Moyes’s sacking or handsome Xabi Alonso’s Spanish Vogue appearance but basically doesn't have a clue. The really annoying kind who, despite still not grasping the offside rule, gets terribly excited when, every four years, the World Cup rolls round. 'Let's all make Caipirinhas,' I screech.

I am so annoying about my temporary but passionate zeal for football come World Cup time, I even get dressed up. Which in this office – and possibly in all situations where good taste and a general sense of decency reigns – is considered pretty déclassé.   

"The St. George’s flag is associated with racist skinheads, with a sense of inflated and almost desperate national pride, with an extreme far-right."

‘It’s not for me,’ Never Underdressed's fashion director Ursula Lake says firmly when I broach the subject of sartorially aligning yourself with your country and team. 

Elin Evans, junior fashion editor, concurs: ‘I like a global sporting event as much as the next person, but my wardrobe isn’t going to change to reflect that.’ 

Blame England’s history as a colonial power, or blame the English Defence League, or blame the rise of UKIP, but the St. George’s flag has got a pretty bad rap, so bad a reputation in fact that a quarter of the English population now actually see it as racist symbol – and people are therefore understandably squeamish about parading about with it draped round their shoulders, even at World Cup matches. And that’s before they begin to engage with Asda’s disastrous attempt to make the flag more ‘wearable’ by adding a Ku Klux Klan-style hood.

ASDA 'withdraw' £3 England flag after claims it looks likes Ku Klux Klan outfit... Yikes! pic.twitter.com/aQh6QN1xiV

— Mary White (@mary_white33) June 1, 2024

The St. George’s flag is associated with racist skinheads, with a sense of inflated and almost desperate national pride, with an extreme far-right; most right-minded English people, meanwhile, don’t experience a strong sense of nationalism. Having grown up in a country that is a major international superpower, that was an oppressive empire builder, that is now a brilliantly multi-cultural place to live, their identity has always been more about a sense of rebellion, a playful reappropriation of British insignia. 

And yet, I feel if there is any time to temporarily embrace extreme patriotism, to scream ‘ENGLAND!’ at a television while wearing some sort of jingoistic face paint, it is surely during the World Cup. To the temporary football fan, the World Cup is not about football, it’s about camaraderie, and a shared dress sense is as useful for ramping up that feeling of esprit de corps as a round of Jägerbombs. You’re all in this silly sunny haze of football fandom together if you’re wearing a patriotic costume, aren’t you?

"In this office – and possibly in all situations where good taste and a general sense of decency reigns – dressing patriotically is considered pretty déclassé."

If you’re still uneasy about the St. George’s flag, the Union flag is probably a better and easier fit. Eighty per cent of English people see it as a positive symbol, a source of national pride, and Vivienne Westwood has managed to imbue it with a coolness: her Union flag designs somehow call to mind a sense of understated pride, a feeling of sensible patriotism. Geri Halliwell’s Union flag dress is, of course, a famous example of using a national flag as the basis for a fashion statement, but remember that you can also choose to downplay the look, like Kate Moss in her Clements Ribeiro Union flag sweater.

And if you are an England fan who remains completely opposed to wearing patriotic insignia during the World Cup, be heartened by the fact that white and red are some of the easiest colours to incorporate into your summer wardrobe. Take a white dress, add a dash of red lipstick, and you’re ready to cheer on your country in subtle style.