With the Olympics in the offing, we’d like to nominate the art of dressing impeccably as a late entrant to the Rio slate, alongside the return of golf and the continued, if somewhat baffling, presence of synchronised swimming. If you doubt that putting a world-beating outfit together is in the same category as, say, running the 100 metres in 9.63 seconds, or clean-and-jerking 233kg, just consider the sartorial competition the following champions faced down in a red-letter red-carpet period encompassing the Cannes Film Festival, numerous fashion weeks, and the society wedding of the year. Ovations and national anthems at the ready, as our medallists prepare to mount the style podium.

There’s no society wedding like a sun-kissed society wedding off the Amalfi Coast, as Italian fashion editor and stylist Ms Giovanna Battaglia and Swedish realtor Mr Oscar Engelbert proved with their recent lavish ceremony that locked down the isle of Capri. But amid all the sumptuous trappings – a disco on a cargo ship, the bride’s quartet of outfits, confetti cannons that Coldplay would have rejected as too ostentatious – Mr Pierre Casiraghi more than held his own by keeping things impeccably understated. We’re crib-sheeting the louche DB tuxedo, the exquisitely wonky self-tied bow tie, and the artfully scuffed suede shoes as we await our own avalanche of summer society invitations.

In a spooky instance of art imitating life, Mr Jeff Goldblum once spent the course of a movie morphing into a fly, whereas today he just looks… fly. How many sexagenarians do you know that are getting this much of a buzz from their look? It might have something to do with his moonlighting as a jazz pianist – he was surely in the midst of crooning some hepcat bebop as this photo was taken – but he enlivens the standard promotional duties for his new movie Independence Day: Resurgence by appearing every inch the Blue Note haute-boho, from his skinny blazer and jeans to his monochrome polo and socks. Finger-clicking good.

The Aussie bar and restaurant impresario and former model and photographer treats us to his own version of Blue Steel – Red Rum? Purple Pepper? – while displaying all the laid-back nonchalance for which his homeland is justly renowned. But while he may be untucked, unshorn, and unshaved, the sharp cuts and colour combinations – the slim salmon shirt and skinny selvedge jeans, the cool suede shoes and retro-inspired sunglasses – mean he’s far from unkempt. But he only gets one free pass for the flaunting of the cardinal never-wear-your-shades-indoors rule.

Let’s test out the law of nominative determinism as it applies to Mr Lucky Blue Smith. Lucky? He’s one of the world’s top models at the tender age of 18, so it would be hard to argue that he’s been less than fortunate. Blue? This midnight-hued tuxedo with black satin lapels would look good on any beanpole-ish frame, but Mr Smith makes it sing, and leaves all his black-clad peers on the Cannes red carpet looking a little, well, dowdy. And Smith? Isn’t that a little prosaic for such a prodigy? Hang on though – what’s one of The Smiths’ most famous songs? “This Charming Man”. We rest our case.

Denim jacket, jeans, black T-shirt. It sounds so, well, everyday, doesn’t it? Even humdrum. So what process of alchemy does Mr Mark Ronson deploy in order to turn such base metal into sartorial gold? It’s all about fit and attitude: from the drape of the nicely beaten-up jacket to the studied slouch of the T-shirt and jeans, this is a look that says, in the immortal words of Mr Bruce Springsteen: “I’m a rocker, baby/ I’m a rocker – every day”. Even if, as we suspect, he’s toting his cheese and pickle sandwiches in that case, rather than a Gibson Flying V.

What makes Mr David Beckham the envy of all men? The neat quiff? The easy charm? The way he can throw on a black round neck in the middle of June and make it look casual and commanding? Well, yes, it’s all of the above, but it’s largely the fact he never looks a) hot or b) bothered. As the great and the good of men’s fashion took their seats in the Palais Royal to see the latest Louis Vuitton menswear show last week, the sweat poured from the brows of some of the chicest gentlemen in the industry. Yet, there was Mr Beckham, chilled and carefree, chatting to Ms Kate Moss as a stampede of silk shirts and safari jackets by Mr Kim Jones featuring illustrations by Messers Jake and Dinos Chapman sent the crowd wild. Then, Mr Beckham got up and left the building, graceful as a gazelle.

Mr Oscar Higares may not be a household name outside his native Spain, but there’s much to commend him on; he’s an actor and bullfighter, a one-two macho sucker punch that leaves the likes of Mr Vin Diesel and Mr Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson looking like milksops; but he’s also mastered the art of summer smart-casual, as evinced by the relaxed-yet-rigorous cut of his DB denim blazer and chinos and the olé-worthy elan of the monk-strap shoes.

“After 40, a man realises that the only thing he has left in life is to make his children happy,” the 49-year-old Mr Vincent Cassel opined recently. If they’re judging him solely by his mastery of red-carpet formality as he does the gala-dinner thing at Cannes, Mr Cassel’s offspring should be beyond chipper; from the exemplary fit of his double-breasted navy suit to the perfectly-judged proportions of his cutaway collar shirt and Windsor-knotted tie, all set off beautifully by the elder-statesman, more-salt-than-pepper, leonine brio of his beard and coiffure, Mr Cassel makes it look like, well, kids’ play.