The exhibition is about to close so I popped in to the Victoria and Albert Museum to see what all that feudal wealth had been squandered on. Perhaps the evidence is of slow and gradual moderation, but all too late. You all know the tale of Ekaterinburg and the tangled web of monarchies all over Europe so I'll just try to stick to the displays. The exhibition must have been a success as all the leaflets and books associated with it are out of stock.

I went to the Cold War Modern exhibition which closed in January and it was one of the best curated shows I have ever been to. But now the dullness of imperial hose is only challenged by the dullness of the displays. Of course we are used to the dim lighting for fragile clothing, that goes without saying. But the skinny little garments were dwarfed by the chattering hordes of rotund senior citizens in perms as tight and chilling as the permafrosts of Siberia. Most of the captions are at knee height and all these old folks with less than twenty-twenty vision are crowded tight against the glazing oozing along like snails in your aquarium. Luckily by standing on tiptoes I could read all I wanted from six feet peering over their shoulders.

The first and most impressive garment was a pair of linen drawers belonging to the coronation attire of Peter II in 1727. Generously cut where it matters for healthy air circulation, they look disproportionately spinnaker cut compared with the coat nearby with fashionable boot cuff sleeves. Peter died aged just 14 but even for that all the comely babushkas agreed with each other that he was skinny. They've forgotten what being fourteen is like. As usual the chatter was trying to sort out which caption went with which garment, there were no numbers to help. The only number I noted, after counting, is that this one coat had 31 buttons. No wonder the institution was so slow in adjusting to change. How many chambermaids can a young man of fourteen get by with, or without as the case may be. And what a loss, the lad died of smallpox on the morning of 30 January 1730, the very same day that he was to marry Ekaterina Dolgorutkaya.

Another pretty pink garment arouses admiration. This dushegreika is a waisted soul warmer with generous pink bows to allow for detaching the sleeves. A mere eighteen buttons on this sweet thing.

For the coronation of Paul I in 1797 the new tsar designed his own military style uniform much influenced by Prussian style. Then he ordered all the imperial regiments including the lifeguard regiments, Semenovsky and Preobrazhensky to adopt the same style. This attraction of military uniforms was echoed also by the Prince of Wales, the future King George IV, who became colonel of several regiments and collected uniforms. When Napoleon Bonaparte became Emperor of France in 1802 he began to wear his army uniform for everyday dress. Just the style for retirement on the island of Saint Helena. I wonder if there is yet an island of Saint Nicholas.

The display of uniforms for coronation heralds had boots that would certainly appeal to Sir Elton John. The tabards look frighteningly similar to those associated with Alice in Wonderland.

And so to the coronations of Nicholas I and Alexander II in 1825 and 1855. My vocabulary is enhanced with polucaftan. I will have to walk down to Sloane Square and see if they are again in vogue. I read a brief mention of the Crimean War, 1853-1856, at which the Tsar was participating. No mud or blood or gore on that uniform I suppose.

Gosh, it was getting harder to break through the scrum and see the exhibits. No-one was that much interested in the liveries of postilions and coachmen. The display was dated 1825 ­1917. Clearly the Bolsheviks put a lot of hapless postilions out of work. Now the oligarchs are missing out on this flummery with the economic downturn.

For the coronation of Alexander III the new tsar encouraged simplicity in the dress of the Russian people. It's difficult. Borrow too much from the French and you end up with paying import taxes and having your cuisine turned upside down. All that fashionable silk and embroidered silver and gold keeping dainty seamstresses occupied in Lyon. How many Emperors have ruined their economies losing their shirts in the fashion stakes. And the rest who just behave like little emperors tumble at the last hurdle. It's more than filling the uniform but fulfilling the role.

The coronation of Nicholas II was in 1896. I don't suppose my grandmother remembered too much of the occasion being just two at the time. I don't know if it was Soviet propaganda when I visited Tallinn, but they took great delight in telling how the Tsar loved hunting and would indulge in having a mistress at the hunting lodge or palace to the east of the city. It must have been Soviet propaganda also when in Leningrad they chided the Finns for defending Karelia so successfully only to lose ten per cent of the country in the diabolical peace treaty. I will have to research The Times archive as their correspondent had a privileged seat at the coronation of Nicholas II, describing it as one of the most impressive events in his life, or words to that effect.

Yet by 1919 the crew of H M S Lucia in Reval harbour were being given a half-hour lecture about the subject of Bolshevism. At Tate Modern there is the exhibition of Rodchenko and Popova. It's well enough presented but peculiarly dated while quite revolutionary in its day. Then the V&A presented that immaculate exhibition entitled Cold War Modern Design 1945-1970. So we have a peculiar cultural indigestion from consuming the courses in the wrong order. Designers in east and west had more in common satisfying the needs of mankind even while politicians were escalating the nuclear threats. Rodchenko and Popova even showed a weakness for the modernity of flight while trying to free design of all historical references. And now too much caviar to button my dushegreika, too few chambermaids to unbutton my boot cuff sleeved coat. Too much imported from the French or borrowed from the Prussians. Among the tittle tattle overheard from those viewing the Magnificence of the Tsars there was talk of Queen Victoria, of homosexuality in the ancestors. How can such idle gossip come from the lips of elegant middle-aged Sloane Ranger types still sporting Laura Ashley white shirts. That shirt, a classic, has lasted almost as well as the tsar's coronation underwear. Did Laura Ashley do matching bloomers?

I went to see these clothes of an other era because I was familiar with smart naval uniforms, the gold braid, the sword, the boots. I inherited my grandfather's black leather boots and wore them out doing a paper-round in the snow. My father's sword was sold before any of us could stake a claim. I looked at the visitors to the exhibition today and saw that a few women were wearing boots almost as elegant as in imperial times. One woman, defending the extravagance of French silks and gold embroidery while others existed in feudal servitude, wore a jaunty cap, belted jacket, and knee boots. Shades of Bolshevism, what a contradiction, defend the indefensible while wearing the uniform of the revolutionary. No, middle aged, middle class fashion is not attractive. Peter's pants and coat, and the soul warmer. Alexander's smart coat. For all that they had something. We need to smarten up, get in shape, dress with style. Jeans and sportswear have had their day, the Feltham shuffle and bared underpants are not attractive to crime victims or fashion victims. We all need something truly magnificent to make us stars, but without the tsars. What do you think Marica?

© Brian Marsh, 26 March 2009 email initiative.cafe@btinternet.com