Morning Style Mongers. Neglect and disfunction, thats all you’re gonna get from me for just now am afraid. Its unavoidable. Am getting to where I need to be mill-wise however. The Italian mills function differently from the Brits on almost all levels. This fella is one of the Vitale Barberis Canonico family. Francesco. He’s a serious player in the mill pond, a style merchant par excellence and a bon viveur, some other French words and a bit of a hoot.
As is my latest line of exemption, got no time to tell ya what was gwaning at mo’. Sozmans. Saw a slew of exciting fabric both old and new mind, but just got back home early/late this morning. Should be up and about right now, ‘prepping’ a shoot, touching clothe straight after touching down.
Simply cant wait to ’share’. If ya want more than this, better go visit matey on Permenant Smile, right? Am on my Swiss ball as it goes. Bespoke physique? Um, no.
Going to shoot that has the clowns from Heat magazine in the equation. How awful, no? Gonna treat it like an anthrapological experiment/zoo trip. I’ve been courteous.
Morning Dye Hard Style Merchants. Off to Biella, Northern Italy, this morning to visit Vitale Barberis Canonico – A massive, relatively ancient and hugely significant fabric mill. Founded in 1663, ffs, am sure its lovely there, but its also early here so please excuse my lack of banter. Its not been a strong suit of resent. Am wearing a strong suit to counter that tendency.
Dye Hard prequel.
I’m fully intent on making a go of this mill thing. I’m starting to love the mill culture. Not talked about it yet, but I am. Can’t talk about those sorts of things right now. Too, too much in the way. Seems quite sad. Listen to this perhaps, was one of my songs from the Summer. It’s gone now.
Morning Weekend Wonderers. Please excuse lack of proper style coverage. Is unswervable. The TV thing is on (you know, the thing?) and gets in the way. Gets in the way of vital style research and comment. The tailor-cut and fur-clad propagandists dont help with their invites and their menus… I am weak. Went to Michael Clarks Triple Bill (click) at Barbican on Friday: The suitably brilliant antidote to XFactory. Not reviewing it today, but new work using Pils Albatros and The Pistols New York were worth going for alone, and they were yet a small portion of whole sense spanglising bill. Go. Remarkably there are still tickets for the run, even for tonight. Do yourself a favour while you’re still alive (click). Get dressed and run there.
Harry Alexander from Michael Clark Company shot by Jake Walters. Heard of him?
Right now I’m researching fitness style for my The Sharpener column in bed before work. Hence procrasto-writing here, see? Remarkably again, somehow running is so damn appealing am going out soon as have posted. The freedom is sort of sacred. Thank creation for running. And for music. Reckon I’m alive for running right now. So, I found this little film to get you lot going, ya cynics.
Meanwhile, from my research, rather like these off the hook Asics Piranhas (click). Love the look of race shoes for off-key style, not for running. I have small collection made through the years. Hope to add to them. (Mr Brown, this is in no way a hint- still love my other super light white gold suede fellas. Am going for a corporate style shake down, which I do for a living- so don’t think am on case, Roger?). Add a nice pair of Orlebars and the sun and I’d be set. The ones below are for women and are more interesting still, the Asics Gel Kinsei 5
Asics Gel Kinsei 5
The costumes at Clarky’s were stunning too, including graphic new zig zag black white chevron stuff with fringes down the sleeves, (for the girls). What Stevie Stewart does with dance gear for Michael’s Company is exhilarating when added in the direction. Wonder if could go runing in it? Would be a running-foward look for sure. Especially down Hackney Downs.
Morning Special Order Placers. If there’s a version of Flaneuring that involves languishing in the finest resturants instead of parading about outdoors, then I was doing it yesterday. Was quite, quite the most indulgent eight hours I can remember. Not showing off, this is a confession. Really.
My relationship with mini-cab AddiLee drivers is at an all time low. Note to self: Please do some work.