On Monday September the 8th, my new apprentice, Charlie Anderson, pushed the Michelsberg Tailoring buzzer, and climbed the stairs towards sartorial heaven for the first time.
Whilst it’s early days, the lad’s done well, enthusiasm dripping from each of his twenty-one year old pores.
He’s shown initiative, has boundless energy and has already started to get to grips with the tape-measure, chalk and pins.
Most pleasing is his eye. Spotting a ‘drop shoulder’ is all very well, but it’s getting those little things right, like the button position, width of lapel, depth of pocket flap, that makes all the difference.
You can’t teach someone good taste, and apart from a frightening penchant for elbow patches and coloured shoe laces, we’re pretty much on the same level.
I’ve also enjoyed the banter. He’s ripped into me about my small feet. I just laugh at his incredibly prominent seat.
On Thursday of that week we threw a party to celebrate his arrival.
A four piece New Orleans Jazz Band led by Jim Wright let it rip, as family, friends, customers, suppliers, and my fellow Victoria Quarter tenants hammered the Michelsberg bar and raised a glass to the new kid.
Big respect must go to Charlie’s ex-boss David, who made it all the way up from London to show his support.
My spies tell me that he was the leader of the after party shenanigans at Smokestack, setting up the sambuca shots until well after two in the morning.