A call came in late on Friday, while I was minding my own business doing a few planks between emails . It was film people. A bloke called Joshua Dallas, who is an actor, wanted styling this Sunday. He's just been in a film called Thor (click). This isn't what one does frankly and am frightfully busy, but was slightly intrigued by certain elements, particularly the fee.
You'd plan and strategise shoot prep normally, request appointments with PR offices and all that. At 16 hundred hours on a Friday, there is no time. Style Blitzkrieg was the only way, turning up sometimes unannounced and doing impromptu fashion sample-raids. Client had asked for Stubbs tailored sharpness plus the special forces garb I've deployed previously.
Jumped off the 55 at Old Street and did C.P. Company and Woolrich at Four Marketing. Special forces look, done. Then hit RAKE (click) at La Mingays' HQ on New Bond. Rake is getting so, so good. Check it. Tailoring done. Bagged shoes from Louis Vuitton and Berluti. High on adrenaline and Nespresso, stealthed into LV office without appt or a word to team, rushed the cupboard, grabbed an offending 'tri-colour' shoe that has crept into my recent FT coverage somehow quite wrongly and whilst wielding it Thor hammer-style above the head of the PR assistant demanded to know if he thought wearing pretty-trendy opticals was going to save him from what I was about to do? It was then I noticed the tabled-meeting affair going in a glass room not previously seen directly on my right. They were mainly French, and mainly looking alarmed. But then I expect they expect that sort of thing in London surely. I don't think I even said fuck that loudly, so all was fine. Love team Louis Vuitton so very much these days, it has to be said.
All that remained was to mince about Matches (click) a bit pulling expensive tee-shirts and a Dolce shirt. Found incredible Dolce suit as a result which am gonna get for the boy O'Leary. Shall buy and post Tuesday, is really quite something.
Met Mr. Dallas Saturday high noon and found he was a charmer. Felt him up on Bond Street within half a second of meeting him, (he wore it), and realised he was going to be fine with the sizes. It was gonna work. There's something to be said for no planning, and, with a bit of fannying about Saturday, I was done. (God bless weekend tailors). Sunday bank holiday in a scruffy, tatty, pastry-less flat in Whitechapel with a photographer I've never heard of wasn't what I had in mind, but Josh was a good enough chap to make it do-able. These are a couple of looks from the day. It's rather rewarding doing Yanks in Brit Style tailoring. Sort of like missionary work. I hope to do more.