Keith Richards once said, “If you are going to get wasted, then get wasted elegantly.” At 61, his fellow Stones guitarist, Ronnie Wood, embodies this louche creed. As he arrives in the reception of Dublin’s elegant Shelbourne Hotel for lunch, cutting a path through huddles of overly nourished politicians and businessmen, he’s dressed in the same size of super-skinny jeans, 28 waist, that he’s been wearing for the past 30 years, a pair of space boots that may once have belonged on an alligator’s back and a tight black shirt undone to the chest: the fruits of a trip to Prada before his daughter Leah’s wedding last month.