milan menswear shows day III

(Sleeping is no mean art:  for its sake one must stay awake all day.  ~Friedrich Nietzsche)

Allow me to quote The Heartless Crew with a view to my blogging pace.

 “Gal dem call me the master blaster, I start off slow and I get faster”.

That’s the plan at least. Blogging is killing my social life and saving my liver



The doom and Gloom of fashions futility is erased by the David Shrigley film  shown before the Pringle show.  Hilarity prevailed, slaying the fasho’s in the isles. Or is it the runways?. 


A far cry from pre CWK Pringle runway efforts half a decade ago that were more reminiscent of the cartoon characters in the film.

                                                              Pringle AW 2010 - Bauhaus fan club meets Black Adder I.


Pringle's creative director Clare Waight Keller speaks to S&E. Despite zero sleep she looks and sounds sparkling. 



A warm reception at the house of Ford is always nice. It helps to put the gezza on your cover, but still.  No photos of film allowed due to Tom's desires for the collection to exist in as non-fashion-seasonally evolving manifestation. Bloody marvellous if you ask me. Fords signature shoulder line, luxury fabrics and rarefied approach to all aspects of a mans wardrobe is unlike almost any other. Its attitude is turned up to 11, and it works. I’m particularly keen on the shirts that come with a tie bar. Those plus the shoulder-line, are more than a little bit Edward Sexton/Tommy Nutter, The Godfathers of imposing grace and timeless suave.


SELF PORTRAIT. I got left on the street for five minutes before Gucci and had time to reflect, quite literally.


Next to Tom’s old gaff Gucci. A bevy of neat sculpted camel tailored jackets and coats, teamed well with navy and chocolate roll necks. A look I favour on a very personal level. There were Gabicci Rude Boy-suede/knit cardies, quilted jackets all with jeans or narrow stone pants and plenty of snaffle loafers.

I’ve a penchant for snaffles that will bang on about at length when given the chance, ever since I spunked my student poverty loan on a pair in 1989. I’m having a large snaffle carved as my gravestone. Gucci was marvellous, flash Milanese verve at its best. This is what am hear for. I’ve heard detractors say it looks like Top Man. Bollocks fat boys, you’re only saying that cause you cant wear it.





Talking of flash,  ahem,  Versace loves a celeb. Their front row was graced by three Internazionale footballers. I sneakily filmed one and got screw face from Mario Balotelli for my trouble. <see pic> his pals Francesco Toldo and Sulley Ali Muntari didn’t catch me.

                                   Asked my Inter mad driver Federico his thoughts on the boys.  If you want flash cocktail suits to posture about in a surly manner, then Versace often do them. Best if you are a Serie A star wearing one. Maybe this is where to go. 

                                                                                     MONCLER GAMME BLUE

I’ve caned Moncler a bit of late, mainly that wet look joker nonsense. The Gamme Blue collection with Thom Browne, (New York’s own manufacturer of tiny suits and part time Twiddle Dum impersonator), is also a cause for concern. They’re devaluing a decent sports heritage brand. They did put on a bit of a show tonight mind. A whole barracks of young cadets slept in military symmetry in camp beds, until the show began.

Commandant type figures in Thom Browne trimmed regalia trouped in and played Reveille- the wake up bugle call-. They jumped up and donned daft ski/snow board gear designed by old shrinky dink. There were actually some good pieces, but the whole affair had something rather Hitler Youth about it, with the Austrian boy scout uniformed men inspecting each outfit before it did its lap of honour. You tell me if its sinister.




                                                                                                                                                                                     From the sleep deprived of Pringle to the dormitory of  Moncler's bizarre ski academy in one day, now I’m sleep needy too. I cant even face going out again after this blogging palaver. Milan fashion week is no country for old men. I'm staying in my hopeless style hotel room.


 Tom Stubbs