I’ve never made a secret of my crush on Poirot. There’s nothing more exciting than a man who can unmask a murderess then invite you back to his Art Deco mansion flat to view his collection of paisley bow ties. It’s definitely the most stylish detective show: bias-cut 30s evening gowns, wide-legged trousers, red lipstick, impossibly beautiful seaside-wear. There’s the buttoned-up elegance of Poirot’s secretary Miss Lemon and her elaborately starched collars, or the eccentric crime novelist Ariadne Oliver, with her flyaway scarves and too many beaded necklaces. Then of course, there’s Monsieur himself, all impeccable tailoring and highly-polished shoes. This Christmas I’m planning to channel the little Belgian with rich classic patterns, shining leather, and a hint of Deco detailing. Although I’m tempted to complete the look with a silver-topped cane and a disconcerting habit of saying, ‘mon ami, I have been blind!’ in a tone of dawning realisation.