DISLOCATION FRONT-ROW FACE-FRACTURE
Was out scouting for style stuff again Friday afternoon: Shoreditch. Judges Houses for matey off telly, Roman/Tuscan casual garb for 'self in unequal measure. More of this perhaps later, as particularly excited by newly found label William Fox & Sons from Present (click). Crossing Curtain Road to visit Mr.Start (click) for some dark fitted shirts fit for Dubai/Vegas, I spotted a style luminary of note. Michael Roberts is the British born Fashion Director of Vanity Fair in the US, a formidable, serious customer. Normally see him FROW across a runway or with the host of a vaunted fashion do looking either lofty/focused, or on intimate terms.
Friday on Curtain Michael was out of his armour, in parka, matching pants and work boots. I was doing super-casual having decanted from L.F. Lido an hour before: Moncler Gamme Bleu marl jogger bottoms, Nike Air Zoom Marathon runners-double battered- and fitted navy Intimissimi tee shirt. We clapped eyes on each other and exchanged a look- we were both out of the surroundings we recognise each other from, and we were both out of normal combat gear as it were. I stared at the tall, teak, elegant, stoic fellow in khaki for a bit as I walked, and he stared at me with my shopping bags and dirty trainers. Then we both started smiling. Michael's face broke into the broadest, warmest beam of a smile. I did what I could back with my dubious coffee/cigar tint railings- but the moment was a light, amusing, human one. We both got it. In a different environment, a sighting was somehow remarkable to us. Funny that- not hysterical granted, but odd. Context is everything- and for Michael and I this was a new vista. Wouldn't dream of acting like that at the shows, oh know. Think I might welll go up to him next time though, shout "Watcha Michael?" when we're next at Prada and see what happens next. And do try to remember kids, in style- context can be everything.
Stubbs out in The (usual) Metropolis.