LODGED

Morning Style Mongers. Dont wish to bore ya with holiday snaps, but this was the sunrise half an hour ago viewed from my sofa bed in the front room of Rose Lodge, St.Ives. Dont even have to move my head to clock this spectacle. Killer view of harbour, no?

Even if I do move my head about quite dramatically when out & about in St.Ives however, I cannot escape the slew of fleece that appears compulsory holiday garb. Never look Croc-Wise (down), but the man-made down-vista is inescapable. Perhaps its how people let themselves know they're on their hols, or on 'Down Time' as it were. Whatever happened to knitwear? Madre and I bowled to lunch yesterday in knits/cash-blazer, touch of gold, loafers and Hermes scarves. Madre's stick helps to clear a path through the aimless hoards somewhat. I must look like such an old Queen, but don't care. I've got the Williams Blood in me, (Kenneth), as Grace would say. This sort of look from Gucci's Lapo Elkann made to measure collection/offering would be good to arrive in. Then moving into more holiday like stances as ones stay progressed, no? I rather like Lapo's capsule made to measure offer. More of that later.

Lapo at Gucci arrival look.

Here's his little trunk Lapo takes with him on his travels. Wasn't Lapo the fourth Marx brother for a while? Maybe am confused. Interesting Guc' dont get Lappers to model it himself. Too, too ginger perhaps? Instead No.1 global male model Clement Chabernaud is used. Who looks just like David Byrne, open and shut case, right?

Harpo's Trunk.

This is almost Byrne does Riviera Car Dealer, without the scarf, no?

Byrne Riviera salesman/spiv.

This, by the way, is Rose Lodge shot from the harbours edge, with Aero outside. The steps lead to the dark front door, next to our living room/my bedroom window. Thats it from the front. Madre lodges at the back of the lodge in the bedroom. Its a great place and has served the Stubbs's well for decades. Will tell the story of the arcade tracksuit scene another time, but the memories are never far away. Nor is Jus' Desserts, 20 yards, perhaps, who're supplying all our nocturnal ice cream needs.

Gotta dash. Gotta equalise that gelato quotient. Gotta get self running out and about the gaff in lycra before the fleeces take over. Maybe I am as bad as the fleece-heads myself. Big lunch with sis' today. Gonna Riviera Spiv it right up for the occasion, including any scattering. "Everybody run run run, every body scattter, scatter!" as The Kwanza Posse rightly point out (click).

Stubbs is bang out of The Metropolis.

PS. Talking of killer views, here's Clements and his band to wake you up edgily...

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