Whilst in flat out hurry/high yesterday got Saab wedged at a gloriously acute angle in an impossibly small parking space. Have become madly good at parking due to the business outside Lavinia Villa, so will try anything. The roof was off, the sun was out and West End Girls was playing on the stereo. I was bang outside DSM (click), and I had 18 minutes to do APC (clicky) and Acne (flicky) then head deep West for this comedian bloke. The Audi estate in front was actually impinging on my space, so began giving it a go out of sheer gameness. Bi-standers were getting involved. A kind man decided he'd be my eyes, while some doorman and two blokes in a van decided to be righteous parking adjudicators/grasses. Shortly, it was as if I'd been lowered in by crane with 1/4 inch play either end. Funny. What is funny, is how bloody self important people were getting. Bods coming out of DSM, the lot. What they couldn't grasp was I didn't give a monkey's, and was quite enjoying it. At this point my pal's 23 year old Ukrainian wife came past in her Rangey sport. She's super fit, and getting out to talk to me as I bashed front/back/front/back bumpers worked as a terrific decoy. The whole vista got quite interesting. The Audi's bumper was getting it quite bad, but as I pointed out to the audience, it's what they're for, right? Eventually by sheer trance like persistence/bloody-minded back and forth, escaped off up road and into Berkeley Square. Was genuinely surprised at number of indignant people involved in the vista as I shot off.
Now had to venture right back into Dover though to visit shops. Now quite big, formidable, swarthy bloke was fingering his Audi bumper, frowning angrily, talking to the van/door grasses and calling on his mobile. They were gagging for a confrontation. But I was on style call out, deadline pending, so nought else for it, but to bowl straight into eye of the storm. Normally would stop and engage/hold hands up etc., but no time at all for that now. Figured if gave wide birth they'd have more time and perspective to focus and identify as foe, so headed straight for big burly leather man and his new stooges as he said the phrase 'Bang- liberty' several times.
The direct approached nearly worked, but last minute grass No.1 fixed me and pointed me out to Leatherman. It was too late, I was upon them. Then something odd happened. Can only think down to the sheer elegance/menace of new Spencer Hart cropped DB overcoat (see Saturdays post) , teamed with tight (NHS wash) true blue Acne's and old school Gucci snaffle's in black leather (with green/red webbing), Leatherman stopped repeating 'cctv footage' over and over into phone and just gawped. They all just watched me bowl by, waiting for Leatherman to speak, but no one spoke. It was odd. The coat is so handsome, no-one would really want to have a go, would they, but this was properly mental. Channelling carefree aggro Gucci skinhead, strode right past the group, with closed mouth smile, waiting for an off. Nothing. Phew.
They were still at it when left Acne 15 minutes later with three massive pink bags, this time other side of road. Still nothing. Invisibility afforded through brilliant tailoring, gall, and camp shopping bags. I really need to get a shot of the Spencer Hart on. It's properly potent. Not to be trifled with, apparently.
PS. Was only a dark purple (Saab colour) smudge on the bumper, honestly, but you know how these leather jackets types can get. It's a midlife crisis thing.
PPS. I know this isn't proper style coverage, but S&E is in a time of flux, alright?