Ever since the sans culottes inadvertently launched a fashion movement of sorts (they had some help from Rousseau, whose treatises on nature and the desirability of muslin helped to crystallise the hot looks for autumn 1792), the pressure has been on revolutionaries to look at least a bit hip while they’re smashing the barricades – as student protesters proved this week when brandishing high street chic and banners in the face of the BNP at the Oxford Union .

Alas, Britain’s postal strikers never looked like winners. Maybe it’s the ghost of Postman Pats past, but those mid-grey hats and (on the women) Miss Marple Aline skirts just don’t cut it in the threatening and menacing stakes. By contrast, for all their supposed laid-back posturing, the actors showing solidarity with Hollywood’s striking writers already look like winners in the fight against capi-talism. From Julianne Moore’s riot police-style designer sunglasses to Robin Williams’s stormtrooper designer parka, you can just tell that this lot mean business (albeit with their agents). Clearly, looking like winners is half the battle here. All the really successful anti-Establishment movements have had what fash-ionistas like to call A Look, whether it’s Boadicea’s striking face paint, the Roundheads’ distinctive hairdos, Eva Perón’s descamisados(shirtless ones) or those cute Bolshevik caps. Some of the lesser antiEstablishment groups – Mods, skins, Teddies – were so busy working their look that they forgot to think up a manifesto.

Then there’s the French, who, whether it’s 1968 or almost 2008, always put on a stylish performance out on the streets – a dash of black poloneck, an all-weather trench, a slim-line leather jacket like the one Cate Blanchett wore at the weekend to cheer in Australia’s new PM (and Che Guevara might have worn had he had a contract with Armani). Oh, and loads of black eyeliner for flirting one’s way out of a police cell.

Posties, take note: what’s needed is something eye-catching and a bit left of field, in a vaguely back-against-the-wall-mate sort of way, with utility-chic thrown in for good measure. Come the revolution, comrades, make mine a jaunty hat worn at a rakish angle.

Blazer glory

Good grief that was quick. Last week the Tories called for “strict uniform policies to improve both discipline and school standards ”; this week Anthony Buckland reported a widespread retreat from sweatshirt-based uniforms.

“What has struck us is that the demand for change is coming from the pupils themselves,” he says.

I hate to pour a single drop of cold water on anything that might raise standards anywhere, but as Buckland is the marketing director at Price & Buckland, supplier of uniforms to 2,000 schools, he could possibly have a vested interest in fostering the idea that uniforms are cool again.

Certainly, what used to be cool was trashing your uniform à la St Trinian’s as far as the letter of the law allowed. But that was before Japanese tourists took to photographing British children as emblems of a dying breed. Now that even private schools have forsaken uniforms on the ground that they make pupils sitting ducks for muggers, the odds on spotting one are shorter than finding an Hermès Kelly in a branch of Sue Ryder.

Given their rarity, it’s entirely plausible that the uniform’s cachet is on the up, especially since this initiative from Tories, pupils and Buckland cleverly coincides with a catwalk revival in uniforms. Who knew these think-tanks studied Vogue? Berets and blazers are very hot.

The good news for those who fancy the concept but are wary of making a hefty financial commitment is that Buckland has washable blazers for £29. But whether school uniforms foster pride is a moot point. The continentals have never gone in for them, and their disciplinary standards are not noticeably lower than ours. You could even argue that uniforms delay the evolution of personal style and encourage the habit of never washing or repairing your clothes since She Who Has Mankiest Uniform Has Most Kudos.

On the other hand, without a uniform to desecrate, the spirit of punk might never have taken hold. Learning to walk in a gymslip may not be quite what Buckland had in mind, but it’s a discipline not to be underestimated.

Buy this

OK, you don’t technically need another bag. But this isn’t any bag, it’s the Mulberry Roxanne, only this time it’s fabricated from sporty-looking grey sweatshirting instead of leather and costs £85 instead of £600, with 50 per cent of the proceeds going to Red to fund antiretroviral drugs in Africa.

Part of a range of designer products for Red, including Tshirts from Giles, the Roxanne also comes in red and goes on sale this Saturday in the Gap at 376 Oxford Street, London (020-7408 4500) and the Champs Elysées store in Paris, as well as Colette in Paris and Dover Street Market, London W1. Probably best not to dawdle.

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