Luke Blackhall: Man about town

The final of the Veuve Clicquot Gold Cup is an occasion every bit as smart as it sounds. From the beautiful Cowdray Park setting, to the vintage champagne to the quality of the polo played in the afternoon.

Actually, if I'm truthful, I'm in no position to comment on the polo. Despite dutifully turning up at these events, whenever invited (probably a couple of times a year for the past five years), I'm still yet to watch a game.

Well not a whole one at least. I've tried, and the novelty of the charging horses and the blisteringly fast ball keep you occupied for a time. But people watching invariably becomes more entertaining. There are the Sloanes in white jeans, with vague hopes for a Jilly Cooper-esque bunk-up by the stables after the game. Then there are the wealthy arrivistes who think involvement in the sport is their entry ticket to a mythical English society.

And of course the celebrities. While of course you find the occasional royal fan, most stars know as little as the freeloaders like me. But most of the above aren't really watching either. And even if you do manage the first few chukkers (see, I've even tried to learn the phrases), the freeflowing bar becomes a far more tempting place. Polo retains its position like Real tennis, or fives – a classic English sport that no one really keeps up with. Yet every year a press release will arrive proclaiming polo as the new, hot sport. "Anyone can play," they say. "It will soon be like football in the summer."

But the only similarity between the Premier League and polo is that both involve a number of well-remunerated South Americans taking part. Indeed, anyone can play, as long as that anyone has the six-figure sum it costs to buy a string of ponies.

The reason it retains popularity, of course, is precisely because it's non-egalitarian. And it's for that reason that the most luxurious of luxury brands sponsor the events.

And it is based around the opportunity to go out in the fresh air, socialise and drink cocktails all while it's still light. Which might explain why I'm going to another polo match tomorrow. Just don't ask me the score.