The Night Itself
One evening a season. Gates at dusk, judging by lamplight, Best of Show called at midnight. Two hundred guests, ten entries, and no photography except the house's own — the field is dark for a reason.
Programme
Timed to the minute; held to the mood.Gates. Guests walk in through the old customs arch; the field is still covered. Champagne, and the sound of engines cooling.
The uncovering. Ten covers come off in entry order, one lamp each. The sealed entry is uncovered last.
Judging. Three judges, white gloves, torches. Guests are asked to keep to the gravel and let the cards be written in silence.
The drive-past. Every entry runs the length of the field under its own power. This is the part people write to us about.
Best of Show, called once, from the steps. Rosettes pinned. The field stays open until the last engine is cold.
Request an invitation
Tell the desk who you are and which evening suits. Every request is read by a person and answered within the week — the house does not keep waiting lists it cannot honour.