“Which fucker said that?” – Withnail, Withnail & I.
Recently I’ve been going an odd period. Triggered primarily by bouts of insomnia and a current dispassion for my own profession. It’s 4am, I’m writing this on the toilet in a hotel so as not to wake the missus and I’ve entitled this blog ‘I wish Bloggers would fuck off’. Anyway, I’ll get back to that, in the meantime let me give you an indication of where my heads at.
You’ll see from this recent shoot that I’ve taken to wearing my girlfriend’s clothes, namely that remarkable fox fur. At first I was dragooned into fashioning it, my anxieties of belly-flopping into a pretentious cesspit were mollified as I began to feel, well, rather sexy actually. My wardrobe is dull as shit at the moment. Even the Hugo Boss Tux feels like a costume I slip on to mingle with the high-livers. The upper echelons of society. Elton John once said at last year’s GQ Award ceremony ‘Menswear is as dull as fucking dish water at the moment‘ and he has a point. The evangelisation of ‘muted tones’ and minimalist wear by male bloggers and digital influencers (by the way the most narcissistic, grandiose self-entitled ‘title’ one could give oneself) is disturbingly ubiquitous. Isn’t it time for some colour already? The season is grey enough we don’t need to look like weather and its wallpaper.
So I went out, wore the damn fox fur, didn’t think twice about it. But then that’s the beauty of London, the whole city is one big fancy dress party at night and peacocking is not only commended, but nearly compulsory. If I wore that fox fur down the Three Tunnes in Huntingdon, well, you saw what happened in Withnail & I when Peter accidentally wore women’s perfume to The Mother Black Cap.
Still as Tom Ford said, you have to wear the clothes, feel confident, otherwise there is no point. I can’t wear fur with that gay abandon if you’ll pardon the pun, but I echo the sentiment. After this shoot was done I replaced the fox fur in the girlfriend’s wardrobe and pulled out this luminous elongated orange fur Gillet. I pranced around for about 30 minutes in the girlfriends flat, feeling fantastic. I’m going through that odd period where I recognise I’m being drawn to beautiful things, at the same time knowing I’m becoming more increasingly materialistic. Feeling more connected to a fox fur than I do certain friends right now. I won’t even go into how worrying it is to go through your girlfriend’s wardrobe and ask her to take pictures of you in her clothes. Stay tuned.