Breaking the rules…

So……I’m wearing blue jeans, a Hugo Boss formal shirt with double cuffs and I was wearing my navy blue blazer. For those who understand sartorial rules: Yeah, I know.

The past week or so I’ve found myself wearing white shirts and most of the white shirts that I have are formal, I have two white oxfords but one is ancient and although it’s comfortable as fuck, it’s really only good for around the house. The other is in good shape but I only have one of them.

The other thing is that I love this navy blazer. Usually if I’m out in the pub I’ll wear an oxford shirt and a sport coat and all my sport coats are tweed. The combination of oxford shirt and tweed sport coat really makes me warm bearing in mind that I can walk about in 0C in a t-shirt so usually I take off my sport coat when I arrive. My blazer is comparatively thin, though, and so with a formal shirt it’s really comfortable even indoors.

I’ve been out a lot this week so I ran out of clean oxfords and ended up wearing formals. Then I ran out of those…..except the Hugo Boss with the double cuffs and I thought, “fuck it, why not?” and I have to say that I think that double cuffs are really starting to grow on me. They’re just a little bit smarter, aren’t they? Also I love the fit of them, it feels more relaxed and comfortable and I have some really nice cufflinks so I think from now on I might start wearing more formal shirts when I’m out, sartorial rules be damned.


Queen Elizabeth

So the BBC have made a documentary series about the new carrier HMS Queen Elizabeth . I love the odd quirks of the Royal Navy like every friday is fish and chips night. The other thing is that I was watching a documentary about the US Navy which is ultra formal in the way that our navy just isn’t. I actually found that off putting when I went for a cadetship in the navy, now I realise that this is actually the product of four hundred years of professionalism.

One of the next things on my to do list is to join the Royal Navy Reserve which, given how things are with our navy, means that I could definitely see service on one of the new carriers. I’m quite excited at the possibility.


You know how occasionally you come across one of those, “What would you tell you n year old self?” type things?

So I’m at the bar and I have my blazer on, because I love the thing to death. Under it I have my white Oxford shirt and a pair of jeans. I’m still radiating Blue de Chanel. In front of me and a little to my left are these two women, maybe 18-19, skinny, scantily clad and made up to the nines waiting for their drinks. I’m way taller than them so I’m looking clear over their heads keeping an eye on the bar, waiting my turn, nodding hello to the bar staff that I know. I’m deliberately not engaging with the women, not even looking directly at them but they’re in my peripheral vision and they’re looking around the bar too so they can see me.

Eventually I casually glance over them, as in I’m looking right over their heads to see if the bar still has that bottle of Talisker, and immediately they both start flicking their hair like mad, just constantly doing it. I look away and they stop. I look back over them and they start up again. I don’t even acknowledge their presence, I don’t even directly look at them.

I’d tell my 18 year old self that this kind of stuff would be quite common one day.

Also, is it me or do younger women really dress in a hypersexual way these days? Women have always worn skin tight clothes, shown their cleavage, their legs, their midriff, all that. I don’t remember women going around braless with basically an open top or braless while wearing a white T-shirt. So often over the past two years I’ve seen women who for all intents and purposes are showing the world their nipples and I’m pretty sure that never used to happen.

I have this hypothesis about this: So in the past people would be married in their early twenties and divorce was really hard so the competition for mates was quite a lot lower, people just grabbed whoever and then tried to make it work; they had a lot lower expectations.

Then feminism and the sexual revolution came a long and told women not to settle for anything less than the ideal man. Thing is, women don’t find many men all that attractive and so it’s kicked off an arms race. Eighty percent of women are now fighting for twenty percent, at maximum, of men.

I remember female obesity being a real thing when I was in my early twenties, most women were quite a bit overweight. I remember my male friends and I would sit in bars and clubs and we’d complain that all the women were fat. That’s changed, now they’re all really slim and I think  that’s down to this arms race. If a woman wants a high quality guy then she has to out compete all the other women in a way that women have never had to compete with each other before and it’s become cut throat. It’s at the point where going braless to get an edge has become a thing.




So I decided to take the job. It gets my foot in the door and it’s more money and ra ra ra. They’re snatching my hand off though which is amusing. Overall I can’t say that I was impressed with the interview. It was in a room which was only just big enough to fit us all in. They made next to no eye contact with me either and the whole atmosphere of the place was cold and disinterested.

A funny thing happened though. As I was being shown out I was asked how I felt that it went. “Pretty good, I’m finally getting used to these interviews”. “Have you had many? Five or six” “Have you heard back from any of them yet?” “No, but something will come up”. “Okay well you’ll hear back from us probably at the end of next week……..actually we could post the decision today”.

I noted this as curious. So yesterday I got an email offering me a provisional offer along with a load of forms to fill out. Checking my interview feedback I see why. Things are scored 1-7, with 7 being the highest. I’ve got straight 7s. So they’re getting in fast before any of the other interviews get back to me. Sensible people.

I’m semi-tempted to try and get a higher grade out of them.

In other news it would appear that a new version of  The Andromeda Strain came out in Feb 2017 and apparently it’s corrected the most annoying thing about the previous version. Every now and then the story is moved on by a ticker tape which tells you which day the story is on and the location of the action. At least in the original it is.

For some reason in the home release they replaced the ticker tape with subtitles in big black blocks, but kept the sound effect of the ticker tape which was annoying to say the least, it completely knocks you out of the film. It looks like the 2017 version actually restores the ticker tape so the film is as it was in theatres.




So I’m in reception awaiting my interview. The room is dingy, the two guys on reception are in white shirts with black jerseys that look too big for them. It looks like a run down hotel from a movie about some backwater in America. The whole place is a coffee stain brown and there’s no natural light.

Guys come and go in jeans and hoodies, scruffy trainers, some have their underwear showing and I’m there in a pair of tan cavalry twill trousers, a white double cuffed shirt, a smart paisley tie and my new blue blazer. My pocket square is immaculately done. I’m looking amazing. I’ve had so much eye contact with women the whole day. After twenty minutes of coming and going I still haven’t seen one smart employee.

Even the ones in something other than jeans seem to have bought them three sizes too big or a size too small. Hideous jumpers abound and there isn’t a smart pair of shoes to be seen.

As a first impression of what’s meant to be a highly professional organisation I’m seriously unimpressed.

Update 6.75

Not going to lie; I love this blazer. It arrived yesterday and I tried it on with a white shirt and I was like, “Yes”. It is a tad snug because I went for the slim fit but my god does the silhouette look good. I got a white pocket square to go with it too.

I must have spent a good fifteen minutes engaged in pure narcissism just admiring myself in the mirror before I went out last night. I’ve seen blazers on other guys, I know how good they look, that’s why I wanted one, but my god I didn’t realise it would look so good on me. Or make me look so good. One of the two.

I’ve come to this realisation that I actually really like dressing well. Like not so much that I end up following fashion blogs and getting into that whole subculture but enough that I care about what I wear and I like being the smartest man in the room, which isn’t hard around here. Around here if you don’t look like you’ve just been dragged through a hedge backwards then they assume that you’re gay!

I’m so confident about getting this job. I reckon they’re interviewing at most eight people in total and I did a mock interview on Friday and pretty much smashed it so I expect to get the job. The place is in the bit of the city that has all the banks so it’s in a really nice area so I’m looking forward to mooching about and looking good in the summer sun, in a linen suit which is my next thing I think.