I’ve always been pretty terrible with grooming. Never wanted to spend any time on it, certainly didn’t want to spend any money on it. But in the same way that I have gradually accepted I need to be better at looking after my clothes, I realise now I need to be better at grooming.

Shaving is the biggie. Though I wear a beard, I shave a portion of my cheeks and a good couple of inches of my neck every other day. Although it wasn’t uncomfortable, shaving always seemed to produce redness and little lumps on the skin. It would calm down after a few hours and wasn’t that noticeable, but it wasn’t exactly chic either. I’m not about to start cleansing, but I recognise that I should look neat.

In order to try and learn something, I arranged an appointment with Murdock’s. It always looked like a very pleasant place to be – proper old reclining chairs, steaming towels and an army of unguents – but I had never been in. Probably due to the urge not to spend money, as mentioned.

Alex Glover, my barber, was very tolerant: I asked a lot of questions. (Not necessarily a sensible thing to do when someone is shaving you with a cutthroat razor.) It turns out that most of my preoccupations about shaving well, probably gleaned from skimming but never actually reading GQ articles on the subject, were all wrong.

I assumed the redness on my neck was because my skin was too cold, creating goose bumps that were being cut by the razor. Sometimes I would put a hot flannel on my neck to try and warm it up. Then I’d feel guilty when I was in a rush and couldn’t be bothered. No need to worry, according to Alex. As I usually shave after a shower, the skin should be warm enough.

I assumed that I should only use a blade two or three times before changing it. And again I felt guilty when, through cheapness, I didn’t. Wrong again. Alex says modern razors should be good for a few weeks, certainly with my usage. “The industry is set up to encourage you to change it all the time. Think through the marketing.”

So what should I do? Well, my hair swirls a little at the neck and has a few ingrown hairs. Both make it hard to shave cleanly. But the job is made harder by using modern, multi-blade razors. These press the skin down and, though they shave close, can cut the follicle or even press hairs into the skin. If your hair is arranged nice and neatly, it’s not a problem. If you have my swirly pattern, it will create more ingrowing and more inflammation. Use a plain two-blade razor instead.

The other thing that can damage the follicles is shaving against the grain. Although doing this does get a smoother finish, it’s hard to do consistently if your hair isn’t perfectly aligned. At the most, pick and choose wear you go against the grain. Your neck is likely to be the hardest part and therefore least suited to it.

Clean your shaving soap off with cold water rather than hot, so the pores close up again before you moisturise (I knew that one). Avoid using hard soap in an area with hard water as it’s hard to get a decent lather (that one I didn’t); use cream instead. The badger brush should be made use of to work into the skin and lift any recalcitrant ingrowers away from the skin.

Finally, if your neck is inflamed, try a moisturiser or repair product that contains some Salicylic Acid. Alex recommended Clubman’s Bump Repair Gel.

I don’t know which of those tips made the difference, but my neck is looking a lot better this week. Thank you Alex and thank you Brendan.

Photography: Andy Barnham

I’ve never owned a pair of desert boots. This is principally because I used to perceive them as trainer replacements for men in their thirties. You know, for when you just want to be comfortable, but it is harder to ignore a nagging wife than a casual girlfriend.

Don’t get me wrong, I think they are a stylish, classic design. And I am rapidly approaching the territory described above. For a long time I have been debating which colour to go for when I finally buy a pair.

The origins of desert boots can be traced back to 1949 when Nathan Clark created the Clarks Original version with pattern cutter Bill Tuxhill. He had been inspired by officers in the Eighth Army he met in Burma. They wore rough suede boots with crepe soles that they commissioned at the Old Bazaar in Cairo.

It is believed that the design is based on the Dutch voortrekker boot worn by the South African section of the Eighth Army in the Western Desert. The strong military connection to the boot is the reason for another of its lasting appeals: durability. The crepe sole may be flexible and light, but it is designed for miles of marching on uncertain terrain. The grip is excellent too.

It is highly probable that the initial designs were also based on chukka boots (or turf boots). These calfskin or suede boots for polo were popular after World War II and, although they are tighter at the ankle and have leather soles, the similarities are plain to see.

Surprisingly, Clark’s desert boot first had success in France and Italy, but it wasn’t long before the UK cottoned on. And only a year after the first designs of the two-piece upper, two-hole lace-up design, the boot was showcased at the Chicago Shoe Fair in 1950. (On a side note, does the Shoe Fair still exist? Anyone in Chicago out there?)

In the following years, the desert boot gained popular appeal. Bob Dylan wore them, The Beatles did too (before they rejigged the Chelsea boot and Steve McQueen sported a pair in The Great Escape.

But it wasn’t just music and movie icons that wore them. In 1967, Lord Shackleton, deputy leader of the House of Lords, popularised desert boots in Government after he returned from Aden with a pair he had commissioned.

Sixty years on and the desert boot is as popular as ever. I may not be 30 yet, but because of this article, I will definitely be getting a pair soon. Just two words did it for me: Bob Dylan.

One of the great attractions of buying classic, handmade items is how they age; true investment pieces that last not just more than one season, but more than one generation. However, few articles are written about aging. Understandably, most are written about the instantly thrilling, box-fresh purchase.

Hopefully this piece will be the first of many about how great things age. It is about my Globe-Trotter luggage.

When I first wrote about buying the luggage two years ago, one reader commented: “Simon, those are beautiful suitcases. But… do you really use them for air travel today? Don’t they get ruined?” I didn’t really know it at the time, but the point is that no, they do not.

There are many advantages to Globe-Trotter luggage. It is very light yet extremely strong (in a famous stunt a cabin case was shown to be able to support the weight of an elephant). It is handmade using the same Victorian machinery as it was 113 years ago. It is easily repaired, very eco-friendly and great value for luxury luggage.

But the best thing about it is how it looks, in particular as it is used. You can get a polycarbonate suitcase that will be tough and lightweight. But it will never look as good as when it was new: it is designed to look shiny and as soon as it scuffs it is degraded. It is unlikely to be something you are proud of; you certainly wouldn’t pass it down to the next generation.

Another reader on that initial post commented “the best thing about Globe-Trotter is, unlike the wretched Samsonites, it doesn’t matter if it starts to looked ‘used.’ Quite the opposite in fact”. Another said “being using one for years. It ages amazingly, with more scratches and baggage stickers gracing its surface, I’m loving it more everyday”.

And here is the evidence, in the photos of my luggage two years later.

In that time it has been checked in about 30 times. It has been toNew York, Hong Kong, Dubai and Buenos Aires. It has often emerged looking a little battered, but with more character as a result. One side is slightly dented and one of the corners has been punctured slightly; but all to good effect.

The only slight disappointment was that, after its fourth outing, the housing of one of the wheels broke away. Apparently this is a relatively rare problem. When cases do get taken in for repair, which happens every five years on average if used heavily, the most common culprits are the locks and the handles. Wheels come third.

It took me a long time to get around to taking the suitcase in for repair – I only managed it last week. And while the repair isn’t inexpensive (this one will be £80), Globe-Trotter does it at cost. It’s done by one man up at Broxbourne, Hertfordshire that does all the company’s carpentry and fixing.

My initial disappointment has been tempered by the experience of using my case since (I taped up the wheel for a while) and by the attentive aftercare service. As long as nothing breaks again any time soon, I’ll be happy.

All similar experiences, photos or war stories are gratefully received. There’s always archive pictures – but those people all had chauffeurs and valets. Much more revealing to see how a suitcase has coped with the thuggish baggage handlers of New Jersey.