The cult economist Adam Tooze generally discusses matters far beyond my understanding on his podcast Ones and Tooze. While roasting in my flat over the heatwave, however, I found myself gripped by a segment he did on the economics of beach recreation. Did you know that 50 per cent of Americans going on holiday regard getting a tan as more important than the actual holiday?

This correlates with the rise of the ‘tanfluencer’ and ‘tanmaxxing’ among Gen Z and the revival of the full-on, George Hamilton-style tan. As a bit of an old tanorexic myself (remember, fellow boomers, the smell of Bergasol?), I’m quietly thrilled. First, because if this is a competition I will almost certainly win it (spot the brownest white person in the room: that’s me!). Second, because what is the point of a summer holiday if you don’t have something to show for it afterwards? Though historically the British are terrible at tanning, we’re just as obsessed as Americans about having one. We invented Love Island, after all.

Was it Wallis Simpson or Coco Chanel who said, ‘You can never be too rich, too thin or too tanned’? Whatever. Melanoma cases may be higher than they have ever been in this country (rising to more than 20,000 new cases annually, according to the latest Cancer Research figures), but the vicious tan appears to be back big time.

Have you come across the practice of perineum tanning? You read that right. Perineum tanning (or ‘butthole sunning’ as it is sometimes referred to) is a TikTok wellness trend, initially promoted in conservative US circles but fast making its way over here. Supposedly it balances hormone levels, encourages the absorption of Vitamin D and may even raise testosterone levels. Is wacky RFK Jr, the US Secretary of Health, into it? I caught a glimpse of him the other day on CNN and was struck by the intensity of his tan, and how much he looked as though someone had shoved his head up a chimney.

What are the politics of a tan? It signifies that you’re a jetsetter, of course, but that’s not a trait voters necessarily admire in their leaders. Was it Tony Blair’s perma-tan, rather than the Iraq War, which was to blame for his unpopularity when he finally left office?

Some British politicians can get away with a tan. It suits, say, Rupert Lowe, head of Restore Britain, to rock one. Ditto Nigel Farage (although one can never quite tell if that’s drink or the sun). Andy Burnham had a noticeable tan during his Makerfield campaign and it certainly didn’t dent his popularity there. A tan can signal vigour and vitality, but it can also be a bit Salut, Les Pauvres. The politics of envy have always been such a thing in this country, but maybe that is changing.

Here, inevitably, I must return to the United States. No one has loaded the tan with so much geopolitical meaning as Donald Trump. To my mind there is something vaguely apocalyptic about the particular shade of spray tan he favours. The more orange he gets, the scarier the world seems. But then maybe this is what this devil-may-care approach to tanning is all about. Skin cancer be damned. Live now for tomorrow you may die. I need someone like Tooze to tackle the subject.