Signature Look

Their approach to cider-making is as collaborative as their beginnings. Alongside their own orchard, they invite locals to bring surplus apples from gardens and smallholdings, or to join in on seasonal picking days. In return, neighbours take home cider or juice, and unwanted fruit finds a noble purpose. Each harvest brings a new assortment of apples, pressed by hand and left to ferment with wild yeasts. The result is a series of small-batch ciders, each with its own quirks, each a reflection of the season.

Day to day, practicality comes first. Phil favours sturdy work trousers with plenty of pockets, the uniform of a man endlessly tinkering with both farm and press. Steve prefers braces and waistcoats, along with clothes worn comfortably to the point of threadbare. Sharp suits are rare sightings now, though not entirely absent. “I do love a three-piece with a good pair of shoes,” Phil admits. “But I’m happiest in my workwear.”

Steve is much the same. “I can’t abide anything tight around my waist, so it’s braces every time. I live in my Aigles for most of the year. And I’ll wear clothes until they fall apart.” When work calls him back to the city, however, he makes an effort: collared shirts, a waistcoats, always a touch of formality.

Moving to Framfield reshaped their wardrobes as much as their work. Cords, tweed, waxed jackets and wellies, once absent from their London and Brighton days, soon became indispensable. Phil is quick to note this was not about blending in, but about sheer practicality. Steve's shift was more philosophical, born from a growing interest in self-sufficiency and sustainability. Long hours outdoors called for clothing that could keep up.

Still, both men relish the chance to dress up when the occasion demands. Fancy dress is a particular favourite, with Phil boasting a costume collection of some renown. Their Wassail outfits, complete with green paint, antlers and horns, are sights to behold. For their tenth anniversary, they chose Peter Christian, a decision that nudged them to raise their sartorial game in general.

Their style histories are as eclectic as their cider labels. Phil recalls a Miami Vice phase: white loafers, pastel jackets and, inevitably, a mullet. Later, he discovered the appeal of the three-piece suit, encouraged by a mentor who told him: “Even if you cannot do the job, dress to look the part.”

Steve, meanwhile, went through a gothic stage of trench coats and DMs, followed by Cuban heels and shiny suits, before embracing double denim. The beard, of course, has its own story: a mountain trek, a pair of very short shorts, and a comment from his mother-in-law likening him to a polar explorer. He has not shaved since.

These days, their wardrobes are more in step. They speak fondly of their “uniform”: check shirts, knitwear and practical layers. Steve even knits his own jumpers, including a tank top designed specially for Phil's birthday, patterned with the Bignose & Beardy motif. With the influence of Peter Christian, their shared look has become quietly refined, recognisable and very much their own.

Bignose & Beardy prove that, much like cider, good style is at its best when approached with character, patience and a generous sense of fun.

And there is always another celebration ahead. This January, the wassail returns: fire, noise and ritual to wake the orchards. “Pull up a log and join us under an apple tree…”