Sunday, 2:30pm | Now in its 4th season here in New York, the Veuve Clicquot Polo Classic has become a blisteringly popular event. Summer’s best excuse to don fine garb, the classic is a surefire way to see the who’s who. But, making your way to the venue, New York’s Governor’s Island, much less finding an open swath of lawn, are also proportionately difficult. Several hours waiting for ferries, swelling crowds (albeit immaculately dressed) can be a turn off, but Veuve Clicquot was kind enough to offer us a VIP invite to skip the lines and other logistical indignation for a unique perspective of the Polo Classic. But rather than toast flutes and wax poetic with the likes of Hugh Jackman, Paul Haggis, Mark Jacobs and Nacho Figueras, we took the opportunity to reach not only for our Sunday’s best, but also for our best lens and train it on the sport and fanfare of Polo. We imagine the combination of style, sport and other bourgeois hullabaloo would make even Philippe Clicquot himself (circa 1772) raise a toast. Of course, the troves of Veuve Clicquot’s signature saffron marks and flags doesn’t hurt either.

Photo essay begins after the jump.

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Photos by Eric Yang