The 2025 Wimbledon women’s singles semifinal between Mirra Andreeva of Russia and Switzerland’s Belinda Bencic on the afternoon of July 9 was a celestial affair, not just because Bencic powered through the younger Russian in straight sets, to set up a fine final against World No. 1 Iga Świątek. The game bore more than a little extra wattage because, first, the Queen, pictured above settling into the royals’ customary front row-on-the-court seats in the Royal Box, flanked on her left by the Chair of the All England Tennis and Croquet Club board Deborah Jevens. In the second row, noted tennis fan Hugh Grant and his wife, Anna Elisabet Eberstein, stand properly for the duration until the Queen and the Chair of the All England board take their seats.
The action in the Royal Box is not quite as swift as the action on the court, but over the two-week-long tournament, the Court of St. James does play a cutthroat game of musical chairs in the Royal Box that definitely provides the world at large — well north of 25 million viewers globally in each of the last three years, atop a half-million people who actually attend — with one hellishly fine barometric pressure reading of British society. Grant engaged in a very sociable conversation with the Queen and her sister, then settled in.
But the settling in seemed slowly to overtake the esteemed actor. He seemed to nod off for what might be diplomatically described as a moment of altered consciousness, or lapsed attention, or perhaps even a sort of Zen-like power-nap/drift-off — according to CNN. Perhaps a rough night at rehearsals for the chronically employable actor, or, more likely, with them out of school, a long morning with the kids — five in total, three of whom are with Eberstein, two of whom were authored by Grant and his ex-partner, Tinglan Hong. At any rate, a human moment for the dad of those good people.
We’re naming no names here, but it’s arguable whether it’s wise to take a nap in public, period, except on a beach or beside a swimming pool, or, say, with your platoon on a long march. Put more directly, to take a nap in the Royal Box during a Wimbledon quarterfinal with the Queen sitting within arm’s length seems a parlous choice of lollygagging terrain. What if she turns round and asks you a question? The white-hot global focus by the paparazzi on the occupants of the seats around her is a given. Arguably, Grant is used to bathing in that sort of klieg-lit glare, but, as an Englishman sitting there, technically at her invitation, wouldn’t one really rather be nodding off few more rows distant? Admirably, the Queen and the King fight similar biological urges at thousands of obligatory public functions.
CNN reported its razor-thin perhaps-a-nap thesis in a three-paragraph digital piece published at 7:53 p.m. EDT (2:53 p.m. British Summer Time). By then, the emoji-rich posting on X (the classic weeping-with-laughter among them) and other platforms was, predictably, viral.
For the last couple of centuries we’ve heard the phrase “Royal Box” in reference to certain select seating areas in British theatres and at sporting venues such as Wimbledon and Ascot, so the words have become normalized. But in fact the Royal Box at the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club is very much an extension of the Court of St. James. The hour of the CNN drop, and the preceeding tsunami of posts on Grant’s theoretically soporific lapse matters in that they left scads of afternoon hours in Britain for the London tabloids — who treasure Grant and follow him assiduously for his newsmaking, both accidental and not — to publish their “gotcha” pieces.
Moral of the moment? Such are the microscopic levels of attention on all who enter the Royal Box at Wimbledon. To mangle Dante’s brilliant Canto III of the Inferno, abandon hope, all ye who enter here.
Knowing this, and despite his recent planned wrist surgery, England’s newest knight of the realm, Sir David Beckham, trotted out his best cream-colored double-breasted to fulfill his invitation to the Royal Box bright and early in the run on June 30, as pictured above. But as summer staples go, a cream double-breasted is fraught with peril.
Two pitfalls: First, the “cream” of the thing has to be just right, which is to say, rich enough not to appear brittle, or bleached-bone-blue. Beckham’s jacket does seem to have avoided that. But Pitfall No. 2 lies, in the finely honed parlance of Jermyn Street, in “the shirtings.”
Inter Miami’s most fashionable owner has unfortunately chosen (or has had chosen) a blue-tinged white shirt that fights the jacket. A more muscular tone of blue, say, an end-on-end classic cut from a solid Jermyn Street shirtmaker, would have done Sir David and his jacket an enormous favor by calling out the jacket’s residual creaminess. Even a more blazing white, as on Hugh Grant. But no. Sir David, the “best underwear model in the world,” according to Tommy Hilfiger, can apparently manufacture a fashion fail. Who knew? Personally, we’re deeply crushed.
None of which is to imply that white is at all bad — as the world knows, at Wimbledon it’s the the absolute rule down on the lawns, down to and including your shoes and socks, as stipulated by the All England board for the last 138 years. Here, the extremely entertaining Cameron Norrie (currently No. 61 in the ATP rankings), gets some good air with his studious, yet daring behind-the-butt return to Chilean Nicholas Jarry on July 6.
Back in the Royal Box, Priyanka Chopra (Mrs. Nick Jonas) executes a perfect blaze-white statement in her shoulderless, shirt-collared dress, alongside her very serious husband, lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist Nick Jonas. Fair shirtings, perhaps even English, on her man as well. Together, Mr. and Mrs. Jonas are winning the (informal) Royal Box best-hair competition hands-down, during the second round Carlos Alcaraz/Oliver Tarvet match on July 2. But no matter their costume, why do the Jonas Brothers always look like they know they are about to receive some demerits from the study-hall proctor and their mom’s really gonna be mad about that? It’s a fashion and a music-industry mystery.
Runners-up in that Royal Box race for best-hair-on-a-couple are Louis Partridge and Olivia Rodrigo, who manage to look spanking fresh and somehow, just that little bit more relaxed and at home than Mr. and Mrs. Jonas. Red carpet-wise, that red checked shortsleeved summer dress on Ms. Rodrigo looks picnic-ready — if not actually limning the picnic tablecloth — and it hits the spot in the Royal Box. Life is but a picnic at these things. Kudos to the Rodrigo/Partridge unit.
But wait! Who’s that Green Lantern-Goes-To-Business-School bloke down on the left. Mystery how he even got that set going, and with the pocket-hankie matching the tie, to boot. Of the seven deadly fashion sins, man has about ten going full blast.
Notable sportsmen from “other” sports are always welcome in the Royal Box, and they provide a kind of relief from more seriously courtly joustings. They do bring a goodly whiff of lives spent in physical competition up into the stands, and that’s the Royal Box’s point. Watching the play, you want the ladies and gentlemen of the playing fields up around you. Here, from left, Angus Lineker, son of famous English footballer and broadcaster Gary Lineker, Lineker himself, British heavyweight champion Anthony Joshua, and Joshua’s promoter, the fast-talking Eddie Hearn, man their mailboxes at Taylor Fritz’ third-round men’s singles match on July 4. Excellent double-breasted khaki blazer on the big heavyweight. He looks ready to rumble.
It might seem just another Royal Box odd couple, seeing Rebel Wilson and Cate Blanchett next to each other at a Ladies’ Singles first-round match on July 1, but both of these serious ladies are, first, most notable actors and producers, second, tennis fans, and, not least, Australian. Nice man-tailored, peak-lapelled glen plaid on Blanchett, very summery.
It’s the really delightful Fraser tartan tie that got the paparazzi’s eagle-eyed editors going on this shot by Hannah Peters of Getty. The tie cuts many ways, pun intended. The formidable Russell Crowe explained on X that his direct Fraser ancestry traces to Simon, the 11th Lord Fraser of Lovat, whose Scots rebelliousness led to his becoming the last man beheaded on Tower Hill, in 1747. At the well-attended event, part of the timber spectators’ gallery collapsed, causing Crowe’s spirited ancestor to break out in a fit of giggles shortly before the axe was wielded on his neck, which gave rise to the idiom: “laughing (his) head off.” Here, Crowe lets the Fraser tartan do its talking on the canvas of a drop-point collared white shirt, backed by a smart navy suit.
Eddie Redmayne’s rich cream suit with black horn buttons does everything that David Beckham’s doesn’t, and it moves well, to boot. Redmayne also wins on the white shirt, which here manages to create just the right amount of distance from the double-breasted’s color so as not to encroach. The actor’s laser-focused attention to the action as he takes his seat broadcasts the notion that the man is truly ready for anything.
Big wrestling dude and somewhat viral star John Cena was, clearly, going for the khaki waistcoat to pick up that orangy/green/brown khaki stripe in the windowpane of his jacket, but that pesky windowpane is just a couple of Pantone numbers out of reach from the waistcoat, which is trying its level best to come up and snag it. So….no.
But! Any huge dude, and especially the preternaturally cool Cena, can carry off that miss. Why? Because that sky blue windowpane jacket is so excellently nerdy that you want the man wearing it in your amphibious assault team rescue-thriller, stat. Cena is the team ordnance rock. He’s the character who gets to schlep the M240 and laying down the ferocious covering fire for the rescue team retrieving the hostages from (name your favorite terrorist group) in their (name your favorite failed state) jungle redoubt.
Meanwhile, his wife Shay Shariatzadeh, in a perfect Royal-Box blue-and-white striped sleeveless, looks as if she’s having to imagine just how long principal photography will take.
A pensive Roger Federer, once a celebrated resident of the Centre Court grass, has transitioned to the Royal Box perfectly, and he wins the suiting award on July 7 for his awesome peak-lapeled blue herringbone. But it’s more than the jacket. It’s the knit black silk square-cut tie, set off by a fine blaze white shirt. Federer’s the GOAT.
In the box with Federer on July 7, King Frederik X of Denmark sports a blazer in an extremely suspicious shade of blue-green. Did he just pop down to town from an early grouse shoot from his distant relative Charles III? Cannot be — grouse season isn’t open, it’s not August yet. Could there be a kilt under that jacket, with the sporran and the knife in the knee sock? Yes, Charles and Frederik share both Queen Victoria and King Christian of Denmark as as ancestors, but the Danes don’t do kilts. Does Denmark’s archipelago actually have enough forest for a unit of royal foresters? Mary, Queen of Denmark, is Australian, so maybe the jacket references an Australian rifle regiment? What code is that jacket speaking in? The richly proportioned collar and tie are working well for the Dane, but that disappears under the tsunami of questions posed by the jacket. One thing is certain: This green jacket can drown any other possible thing. And maybe that is the Royal Box message from the cousin Danes.