Looks are genetic, but what about style? The evidence suggests, yes, good genes means good jeans .

“Fatherhood is great,” the comedian and satirist Mr Jon Stewart once opined, “because you can ruin someone from scratch.” We’re assuming – hoping, actually – that Mr Stewart was joking, but either way, with Father’s Day fast approaching, we present the case for the defence: seven father-son pairings in which it’s all too heir-apparent that the latter, far from being ruined, have inherited a winning measure of their esteemed parent’s poise, charisma and innate sense of style. Proof, in fact, that – to paraphrase Mr Ernest “Papa” Hemingway – the son also rises.

Mr Alain Delon, 81, the brooding, saturnine star of Le Samouraï and Borsalino, has been described by film historian Mr David Thomson as “the enigmatic angel of French film, so earnest and immaculate as to be thought lethal or potent”. There could be few more daunting definitions of A Hard Act To Follow, and, indeed, his son Mr Alain-Fabien Delon, 23, an actor and model, has struggled, accusing his father, alternatively, of neglect and violent behaviour. One unimpeachable père to fils bequest, however, at least on this photographic evidence, is a peerless facility for the staring-into-the-middle-distance-while-glancing-up-through-an-artfully-tousled-fringe thing. The French have four words for it: je, ne, sais and quoi.

There surely comes a point where, if you’re told enough times that you’re the spitting image of your illustrious father, you just have to bite the bullet and give in to it. A fitting phrase if you’re the son of Mr Clint Eastwood, 87; not only has Mr Scott Eastwood, 31, dressed up as the trigger-happy Man With No Name for a charity event, he’s also wholeheartedly embraced his dad’s early quiff-and-muscle-tee look, making him a shoo-in for any putative remake of Coogan’s Bluff or Kelly’s Heroes. Not that the face of Hugo Boss would expect any favouritism from Pop if the latter was directing, either; Mr Scott Eastwood had to audition for the two films of his father’s that he appeared in, and then, he says, “he was hard on me on set”. But then, what sort of love would you expect from Mr Clint Eastwood, if not the tough kind?

“I was worried that my sons would find me completely uncool,” Mr Bryan Ferry, 71, once mused. “Actually, they think I am rather supercool.” We at MR PORTER ask: how in the what’s-her-name-Virginia-Plain could it be otherwise? Here, Mr Ferry’s scion Mr Isacc Ferry, 32, displays the various debts that he and his siblings owe their debonair progenitor, from the insouciantly flicked side-swept coiffure to the artfully ruffled, is-it-kir-royale-o’-clock-yet pose to the lessons in pulling off buoyant, unstructured tailoring, from 1970s boxy slim-fits to 2000s soft linen with sneakers. With a forbear this perennially sharp, there’s no need to remake/remodel.

When it comes to fathers and sons, the Day-Lewis line has what you might call previous. Mr Daniel Day-Lewis, 60, you may recall, fled the stage of the National Theatre while playing Hamlet (himself not short of daddy issues) after seeing the ghost of his own father, the one-time poet laureate Mr Cecil Day-Lewis. Mr Gabriel-Kane Day-Lewis, 22, model and singer-songwriter, may have previously alluded to the “baggage” of having famous parents (his mother is the estimable actress Ms Isabelle Adjani), but he’s not so much a chip off the old block as a fully-fashioned replica of his father, from the beetle brows to the killer cheekbones and the breezily confident approach to red-carpet finery (though Mr Gabriel-Kane Day-Lewis points up the generation gap with his looser, shinier, more eminently Instagrammable sartorial take).

In a recent interview, actor and singer Mr James Jagger, 31 – son of Sir Mick Jagger, 73, and whose mother, Ms Jerry Hall, was recently remarried, to media mogul Mr Rupert Murdoch – revealed that his father had been less of a musical influence than might have been expected: “My influences were The Clash and Nirvana.” Style-wise, however, it’s a whole different story. The tabloid-copyrighted “bee-stung lips” and “feline sex appeal” are a matter of obliging genes, but the ruffled moptop, the sharp Carnaby Cavern-esque tailoring, and, particularly, the mastery of the sometimes tricky “air tie” manoeuvre are all fervent homages to the man who, after all, once almost opined that we can’t always get what we want, but if we air-tie sometimes, we just might find we get what we need.

It seems that Mr Rafferty Law, 20, has inherited much from his celebrated father, Mr Jude Law, 44. The piercing, steel-grey eyes. The fine bone structure. The high forehead crowned by the playfully mussed quiff. A penchant for collectives (Mr Jude Law was, of course, a leading light in what became known as the Primrose Hill set, along with Mr Rafferty Law’s mother, Ms Sadie Frost, while Mr Rafferty Law is a key constituent of Something To Hate On, a loose grouping of DJs-models-social media eminences). And a healthy disregard for the strictures of black-tie formality. While both keep it all-white on the night, the younger Mr Law adds a youthful, tweet-worthy twist with statement embroidery. All of which makes this dynasty – what else? – a Law unto themselves.

Mr Paul Simonon, 61, was undoubtedly The Coolest One in The Clash – an achievement all the more singular when you consider that his confreres, Mr Joe Strummer and Mr Mick Jones, weren’t exactly uncool themselves – as well as the most dapper member of that famously well-turned-out crew. These are all excellent qualities to confer on your offspring, and Mr Louis Simonon, 25, himself a musician, is happy to step up to the plate. The rude-boy attitude and punk rebel-yell are reincarnated in the younger Mr Simonon’s taped-up biker jacket, chunky man-jewellery and fedora, set at a similarly swaggering slant. Mr Paul famously called for a “White Riot”; Mr Louis exuberantly exhibits a riot of his own.

The men featured in this story are not associated with and do not endorse MR PORTER or the products shown