Autumn.

Regular as clockwork we hit September and my body goes into hibernation mode. I’m doing that “log cabin” thing where I just want to cosy up somewhere with a fire and a book and a decent bottle of whisky and be left alone. I’m getting quite grumpy too, I find myself moaning about things and I’m watching myself and I’m like, “Oh shut up” because it’s like watching someone else use my body to moan about things.

Mood wise I’m withdrawn a bit, a touch depressed, like -1 or -2. Maybe not depressed but pensive. The other thing, and I can’t put this into words, but I feel autumny.  I find myself looking through a couple of catalogues at the cord trousers in their seasonal colours and I’m actually quite glad that it’s autumn in some ways.

One of the great things about autumn is that you get to wear all these great fabrics in interesting colours. It’s the amber cords with a white oxford shirt and a nice checked tweed sports jacket. Everything feels cosy and warm, the fabrics are soft to the touch. I suppose that’s kind of what you need in northern Europe in autumn and winter: things which keep you warm and make you feel good when it’s cold and dark.

Part of the reason I really want a new job is because with the incomes I’m looking at I can afford to really splash out on clothes – and whisky. It’s actually been a long time since I had a bottle of whisky in the house. C bought me a bottle of Ardmore for my birthday and I find myself having the occasional dram and finding that I miss just having something nice to sip while I’m reading. I have expensive tastes though, and I’m looking forward to the days when I can by an £80 bottle when it suits me. Actually I have my eye on a £700 bottle of 30 year old Balvenie, but that’s going to be a celebratory one off. On my list are Talisker 18, Glenfiddich 18, Balvenie 17 and of course the 30 year.

The other thing about this autumnal turn is that I find reading fiction appealing: usually I’m a big reader of nonfiction but during the autumn I find myself picking up the unread fiction that I’ve bought throughout the year and actually reading them. There really is nothing better at this time of year than finding a comfy chair and curling up with a book.

 

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Suits

It’s interesting walking through town and seeing all these guys in suits. It really makes me grimace. Like half of them look like rejected fashion models/slightly too camp to project an air of competence and most of the rest look like they think that they’re eighteen and going to a prom or they’re some kind of dodgy used car salesmen. It’s a quarter to a half inch of cuff, not half your fucking sleeve!

A man should never attempt to look flash, because it never works out. At best you look like the young buck who’s trying to make an impression, which immediately signals that you’re the young buck who hasn’t got anywhere in life yet. Also I think that generally, as a man, avoiding fashion and sticking with style, especially classic style, is probably the best course.

Mwahahahahah!

My new rule for dressing is that if men aren’t looking at you with disdain, then you are underdressed or not dressed in a sufficiently outrageous mode. Women don’t really care how a man dresses, the most you can get out of them by way of interest is something about “clean shoes”. Well, that’s not true. 

 

Soon I will rule the universe! I will have yellow trousers and you will all be insanely jealous! Mwahahahaha!

 

Word of the day? INSOUCIANCE! Mwahahahahahahaha!

 

Etc

 

You may now go about your daily business.

 

That is all.

Seeing red

Speaking of clothes, if you want to piss off every man you know, wear red. In fact in general if you’re a guy and you don’t like getting gawked at by other men, do not dress well at all. Just do the jeans, t-shirt and scruffy trainers routine that 90% of guys do. That’s sneakers for those readers unfortunate enough to have not been taught English in school. I digress. Honestly, you put a pair of smart chinos on, wear a shirt with a collar, a nice pair of shoes and a sports jacket and it’s like you suddenly sprout G cup boobs because men just stare and stare at you.

Blahh

Bllllllllllllllllllllaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Feel like shit. I’m listening to grunge and Deftones, this is what I listen to when I’m feeling like telling the world to fuck off. 

Quite surprisingly clothes are now an important part of my life. For perspective from 17 to 29 I wore nothing but black. Now I find myself dribbling over catalogues although I seem to have settled on one company in London who just make amazingly good stuff for very good prices vis Charles Tyrwhitt. Suits. I actually really love suits.

Now I should say that there are suits and there are suits. There are those nasty, shapeless, off the peg things that people ware to work and end up looking like lost school boys in. I should say that here virtually every senior school uniform includes a blazer with a dark pair of trousers, kinda looks suit like, so said suit wearers look like that. Then there are suits which make you look like the dogs bollocks. I’m eyeing up a suit at the moment.

The other day I had occasion to wear a suit and I was at the station with the other besuited personages that reside around here. It was a sorry sight. “You’ll grow into it” were the words that came to mind. Some were clearly under the impression that they were gorillas judging by how long they thought their arms were. 

Charcoal and black are two colours that a suit should never be. Never. Again they look like a school uniform and they lack personality and as I see things clothes are all about personality. There’s a difference between wearing something and rocking it and charcoal and black suits….very hard to rock them. I mean yeah black suits have the whole reservoir dogs look to them,  but you have to be rocking them with a reservoir dogs attitude and most guys just can’t do it and you can’t do it with a baggy ass work suit. Just can’t. You just end up looking like some totally defeated, sorry ass person, which you’re not telling me helps with your job. Dress sloppy, think sloppy, sit sloppy. Fucking, just are sloppy.

Off on a tangent, I think Mason Moore is my new favourite pornstar. Gianna Michaels used to be until she effectively retired, a sad day for all humanity. See if you’re bimbling around and Mason Moore appears before you, y’all better be looking godlike and a decent suit, or decent clothes gives you edge to go “pft” or “tss” and turn away like she’s the biggest joke you’ve ever seen and not worth your time, when she tries shit testing you. This is remarkably effective. About four seconds later you get this tap on the shoulder and I’m like “Now what?” 

Okay this is shifting into mania,

The Suit.

I may wear a suit tomorrow, just because I can. I bought this new suit for an interview and it is the bollocks. The suit is a British invention but this suit just oozes Britishness. You could rule India in it from a veranda while drinking Pimms in 40C heat and be so cool that you wouldn’t even sweat. Although in hindsight I’d have gone for the blue pinstripe instead; that’s the next thing on my to buy list. 

This one is navy blue hopsack, three piece, single breasted, two button, notched lapels. I put it on, took a photo and sent it to a friend, as I always do with new outfits to make sure I don’t look like a pratt and she sent back “Very nice, Mr Bond”. Sent it to another “The next James Bond”. These I took as compliments.

In the past year or so since I stopped wearing black all the time and went for a classically English smart casual look I’ve been kinda fascinated by clothes. It’s interesting how people treat you differently depending on how you’re dressed. When you’re in black combats and kinda gothy no-one gives a rats ass what you say or pays any attention to you. When you’re easily the smartest dressed guy in the room though, and sporting plenty of style, suddenly any bollocks that comes out of your mouth is listened to. This also depends on how you carry yourself, and I walk everywhere like I own the place, because I’ve had ten years of having my posture corrected. A suit helps with this I find; I stand and walk differently in a suit. I feel even more confident and self-assured because I know that I look good and I know that a suit communicates authority, especially this bloody thing. It’s the waist coat I think, it adds a tiny bit more formality, a tiny bit more seriousness. A suit is like suit of armour anyway, it’s psychological protection against the world, and a waist coat means that even with the jacket open or without the jacket you have that added layer of protection and authority. You could probably rule Canada in just the waist coat alone.