I’ve just finished Ranulph Fiennes’s autobiography, “Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know.” His ‘why can’t I?’ approach to life is uplifting and truly inspirational. He too had his heroes, and in life, I believe you need people (and their work) to look up to and emulate. Inspiration comes in many ways. As far as tailoring…
My Grandma, Edith, used to come out with some wonderful phrases: “She’s all teeth and temptation,” was one of my favourites, as was, “don’t spoil the ship for a ha’p’orth of tar.” The former young filly, is often encountered by a chap, resplendent in a Michelsberg bespoke suit. The latter, is my call to arms…
The one crumb of comfort I’ll take from the end of Summer, is no more encounters like this one in Leeds. As he swaggered past me, rapping “A’m rollin’ wi mi backie…” I didn’t know whether to laugh, or, cry. Sunshine can bring with it a multitude of sins, and last week, on my way…
As a tailor, I get a real kick out of making something for a special occasion. A wedding, or, red-carpet movie premiere is a huge deal and so the pressure of delivering something perfect, on time, is palpable. A sharply cut suit can make you feel taller, sexier, powerful and more confident. Providing the armour…
So, will it be ‘Calvin’s’ for Christmas? Money says the shedding of wrapping paper at Casa Michelsberg will reveal a white box, emblazoned with the image of a smouldering footballer. His body, a waxed temple to muscular perfection, laughs in the face of love-handled lesser mortals. Sullen eyes, lowered towards his slim waist, fall on…
Farewell sweet Summer – you’ve been a joy. This year we’ve been spoilt rotten, but gin and tonics must now give way to a warming brandy, as the cold, hard barrels of Autumn and Winter swing in our direction. Now is the time for log fires, pastry and mash and breaking out the winter wardrobe.…
On Wednesday the 27th of March, I hit the big four zero. Only a week before, I’d driven home through Headingley, closeted in my refined Germanic bubble of leather and walnut veneer. With misty eyes I smiled at the fancy dress wearing students, heading out for a night of Jägerbomb and M-Cat fuelled thrusting and…
I’ve just read the biography, “Shopping, Seduction & Mr Selfridge” and it’s an absolute belter. Harry Gordon Selfridge, founder of Selfridges department store in London, was the ultimate showman. A risk-taking visionary with ambition, self belief, unbridled energy and boundless enthusiasm. Sure, he had his demons (girls and gambling), but here was a man driven…
The beard is back. Even my brother is growing one. A face full of fur smacks of swashbuckling “derring-do.” It’s testosterone on a chin. The hirsute marque of heroic daring. Beloved by World War two fighter pilots and pipe-smoking chaps who raced along country lanes in their Morgans, a bristling moustache embodied the spirit of…
Christmas, to me, should be a Dickensian schmaltz-fest of ruddy faced joy and conviviality. The clatter of a carriage on cobbled streets. The crunch of snow under stout leather boots. An Inn with a crackling log fire where bearded men swill porter and supp mutton stew. No Sky Sports. No games of pool. Just raucous…