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July 2010

Savile Protest

This lot were drawing attention to an investment company being involved with animal testing, or something. They need to work on their art direction I think.

Blood! Blood! Blood on your hands!

Dolce&Gabbana Chelsea FC suits

At Stamford Bridge, Dolce&Gabbana and Chelsea FC had a little do together last night, to unveil the club’s new suits designed by the Italian style masters. Dark blue two button, three piece lightweight wool suits, are to be worn distinctively with dark blue shirt and tie, in an almost retrospective Nineties style format; very slick indeed, and quite a departure from  usual club suit fare. Players get an elegant coat, also emblazoned with the Chelsea lion rampant insignia, (to deter the cheeky sods wearing the gear in their leisure time perhaps? Unlikely).

A handful of available players modelled the new garb in the Dolce & Gabbana lounge installed in the West Stand. After some counsel from nearby football savvy stylist Tony Lewis, I spied Michael Essien,  Mikel, Daniel Sturridge and  Henrick Hilario coyly ‘mingling’ with style’s anointed and TV crews in the sleek, dark blue environment of the cocktail lounge. You gotta be careful with that tone on tone styling on a waiter chic level.  Sure enough, young and good looking, bedecked in dark on dark suit and shirt arrangement, the inevitable happened and someone from Conde Naste Traveller handed the Nigerian international Mikel an empty Martini glass mistaking him for staff. Lesson: never mix strong spirits, posh journos and foreign imports in the same serving. The lounge is  very glamorous place to be doing anything, never mind watching football, or admiring fine tailoring.  I was just settling in when it became apparent I was about to be subbed off.

At nine o’clock the A team of style was separated from the reserves, and while editors and important types settled in for dinner, I went and deployed the blue on blue of my Oyster card while researching how frequent the buses are in West London. Again.

Stubbs out.


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this season’s silhouette

I was sat in A&E, Homerton Hospital again. Nothing bad happened to me but sometimes you just gotta get away from the constant demands of modern living, and go tranquil. For me it’s always A&E or the passport office of late. Phone off, wireless down, it’s most relaxing and good for ones flow. I can actually work. They should consider coffee top ups.  A&E is lacking somewhat on a style level however. Yesterday was the exception. A kid got dragged in by his Herbert mates having come a cropper off his scooter just round the corner. They carried him with bleeding elbows, a dislocated shoulder and grazed jogger bottoms. The place was transformed into an estate slang urban fashion parade. I’ve been observing closely what you might call ‘this season’s silhouette’, and this was a showcase, not in recent Milan/Paris runways affairs, but on a street level in Hackney.

It’s an exacting roster of detail to get it properly right. While the London Fields trendies ride fixed wheel bikes, sport handlebar moustaches and flood length pants, the inner city kids are up to something very different. ‘This season’s silhouette’ is all about riding your Gilera scooter, elbows out, shoulders hunched, back arched and exhaust manifold sawn off. It’s the shape you make when you rev and rev down the Murder Mile or Mare Street, helmet on top of skull like a rebel Mecon. Then there’s clothes. Thick grey marl or navy jogger bottoms, the sort to make boney kids look chubby. These bell out over Rebook Classics in black or white. The next element is key.

Ghetto male bond/happy slapping.

A Ralph Lauren pique polo shirt, preferably ho0ped, in bright colour, size: dress length.  It was hard to tell if injury boy was doing the full it as he was tangled and bloodied. Two of his four mates were for sure. The look, or ‘off the shoulder asym-ghetto polo flex’, as we shall call it, involves, putting one arm through a sleeve, but not the other, so the body furls around your neck and chest like an Arab scarf/cape. Can go for tee shirt underneath or skin option.  When on the scooter the effect is great, non matching sleeves and a flowing tail in the wind.

Come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough

Its sort of New Romantic Preppy Ragga or Pastel Lawrence of Dalstonia. It’s very fetching, and totally undocumented. I’m gonna start doing it with a blazer and see how that drops down Cecconis. Of course there’s no pictures of the ‘ghetto asym flex’ yet, it’s way too underground. I was gonna try and get a picture, but the rowdy crew didn’t seem well disposed to fashion documentary as they all demanded immediately attention for their pal, dressed like an angry Spandau ballet  in a heated on court tennis dispute. I gathered up my mobile office  accoutrements and sloped off for a Natas down The Chatworth. Asym-Ragga Spandau look coming to a high street new you soon.

TS  is out of A&E for now.

Accident & Emergency for a cold

I had to, and it worked. Stay with me on this, but it’s why been so quiet on Style&Error. Got food poisoning/sunstroke crossover a week ago Friday in the sun. It was mental. It properly took me down. Got religion and everything during the night and ended up just glad to be. All I could do on the Saturday was get car washed at Stamford Hill and buy art book for Walters’ birthday. Sunday felt better, ran, watched England get knocked out and did Jake’s birthday. Went out with Morrissey and Holden and proceeded to drink a lot while Morrissey tried to strangle Jake in Dorchester.  This must have compounded the stroke based weakness as got the worst cold ever had. Don’t even get ill never mind colds. Despise colds and look down my nose at people who get them. Got the devil’s own cold. It wouldn’t go. At all for a whole week and a half. Dermot gave me echinacea, ultra celeb style vit C and a bag of hand picked cherries. What a gesture, surely that would work. Alas no.  Tuesday it dawned on me that was gonna need antibiotics.

Have no GP as new to area. Need to be fit to run again or will do something mental. Really. It’s the Serpentine Ball on Thursday for fucks sake, then X Factor Manchester Friday. Went on NHS direct phone line and found out what would be like if sinus got really, really infected. They explained that if got worse in a week could go hospital. Cut to chase went down Homerton A&E and told them my teeth and jaw were in agony from sinus pain and the metal plate in my head was resonating like a tuning fork. I also said I had to be around famous people for a living and this simply would not do. They went for it and gave me prescription on spot. I asked to fill in a patient feedback form so I could let them know I heartily agreed with diagnosis. The NHS is brilliant. Also got an hour and halfs work done on hat style for Centurion magazine during the wait. Mustard. Cut backs, what cut backs? Its like Hollywood round here.

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