The best things come in threes and London exhibits are no different. Obviously this happens as soon as I leave the city (thanks Conservatives, David Cameron and co) but the great British capital is now playing host to three dream worthy showcases that’ll make the departure of Savage Beauty that much easier. Below in no particular order:
I write a lot of proposals at work. I write them for government projects, corporate projects etc. and they generally prove to be quite persuasive and hence, effective. It all comes down to a good solid plan with a description and a good set of justifications.
Thus, I’m adopting this approach in the sphere of occupational dressing. I want to say that I simply do not see any reason why denim and trainers cannot be part of a universal workdrobe. T-shirt, jeans and trainers (jeans in particular) form the basis of a hard worker’s identity. They allow for dynamism and freedom in thought and movement, what I would consider to be the exact calculation for success. However, a conservative business casual sensible (which is the title I bestow on my confusing dress code at work) is founded on the ability to enter clubs and establishments that turn their noses up at denim and the soft tread of a trainer at any point. I see the rules. I just don’t agree.
Here is a small compendium of ways that white denim can look very serious indeed and a way to bounce from one shoe to another if it ever is necessary to hit up an ‘establishment’ at a moment’s notice.
This is the first exchange in what will hopefully become a long series of same such conversations where I poke and pry into closets to unearth their seven most treasured items of clothing. One of the three basic necessities of human existence, some may have plenty, some may have few but there will inevitably be those items which have become cornerstones along the daily course of living.
I tend to think that in the common imagining, desert islands occupy two distinct spaces. There’s the glamorous one in which you imagine figures such as Richard Branson jetting off with a party of fifty on a yacht and then there’s Tom Hanks in Castaway, trying to survive with the ship’s remnants only to emerge four years later adept in spearfishing and loincloth wearing. Moving back to Hong Kong and starting work in a distinctly local environment, I cannot help but feel it to be similar the latter of the two desert island experiences though my comparison operates in the vaguer capacity of metaphor as opposed to the more direct simile. Read More »