Random Announcements
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I have a 6 way extension cord rigged up with UK/US adapters purely for traveling with phones, shavers, laptops and tablets etc….. travel essentials 101
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So you can do this?
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You know the drill @Chris
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I wonder who I think of every time I pass one of these stores.
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I've just gone through my wardrobe. Due to lifter problems, I've put an inch or two on around my chest and shoulders, and now most of my shirts and jackets no longer fit. Of course, this is after slimming down, so I had to trade in my old collection a few years back.
So that's nine shirts (five Iron Heart, two Mister Freedom, and one each by Tender and Flat Head), and two jackets (Iron Heart First Zip and denim M65) to clear out.
On the upside, it does mean that I can go long on the new season.
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In the meantime I'm looking at the idea of a minimalist wardrobe. The guidelines that I've seen are:
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Two jackets. (One casual, one formal.)
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Eight tops. (T-shirts, shirts, Henleys, etc.)
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Two pairs of trousers.
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One pair of boots.
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One pair of sneakers.
I'd probably drop the blazer, add a raincoat (I grew up in Cumbria, which has a rather wet climate), a couple of sweaters or hoodies, and a suit.
Given the clothing addiction that we collectively suffer, I couldn't see any of us curtailing our wardrobes to that extent!
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In the meantime I'm looking at the idea of a minimalist wardrobe. The guidelines that I've seen are:
-
Two jackets. (One casual, one formal.)
-
Eight tops. (T-shirts, shirts, Henleys, etc.)
-
Two pairs of trousers.
-
One pair of boots.
-
One pair of sneakers.
I'd probably drop the blazer, add a raincoat (I grew up in Cumbria, which has a rather wet climate), a couple of sweaters or hoodies, and a suit.
Given the clothing addiction that we collectively suffer, I couldn't see any of us curtailing our wardrobes to that extent!
While I like the idea in theory as it minimizes consumption, it has now become a trend and left a bad taste in my mouth (GQ has advocated for it). The guidelines also can seem like an excuse to dump your entire wardrobe and buy all new stuff to fit the model, which kind of defeats the purpose.
In our denim obsessed world this model would ensure some awesome wear on garments though. That said, no way I could do it. I have more IH shirts than the format allows and I couldn't fathom dumping any of them.
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I keep trying to cut down my wardrobe because I actually was a bit of a shopaholic while in Japan… Typically, every 2 weeks (Or 1 month, at the most) I would buy at least an IH shirt, or 2... Finally, I've stopped shopping. It's been almost 6 months since any brand new purchases, and I'm doing "One out, one in". I have picked up 2 items that were "too good to pass up", but generally I'm doing DAMN GOOD.
I've wanted to get rid of some stuff to break the emotional connection to shopping and clothes... But, when it's time to thin the herd, I find myself unable to let things go, lol! #FirstWorldProblems
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Inspired by the pic which G slipped into his visit to White Kloud of my old blog (which I had mostly forgotten about), I might revisit a few things and re-open that most navel gazing of activities…..blogging
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I finally got 啓蒙家 for my post count. Google says it means enlightened.
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Heddels have an interesting piece up entitled Post-Heritage, about how people are moving away from straight reproductions.
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America is facing a denim crisis that must be stopped
I hope that's not what Post Heritage means. ???
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Jeez. Douchebaggery of the highest order.
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A Roger Moore story shared by Marc Haynes on Facebook.
As an seven year old in about 1983, in the days before First Class Lounges at airports, I was with my grandad in Nice Airport and saw Roger Moore sitting at the departure gate, reading a paper. I told my granddad I'd just seen James Bond and asked if we could go over so I could get his autograph. My grandad had no idea who James Bond or Roger Moore were, so we walked over and he popped me in front of Roger Moore, with the words "my grandson says you're famous. Can you sign this?"
As charming as you'd expect, Roger asks my name and duly signs the back of my plane ticket, a fulsome note full of best wishes. I'm ecstatic, but as we head back to our seats, I glance down at the signature. It's hard to decipher it but it definitely doesn't say 'James Bond'. My grandad looks at it, half figures out it says 'Roger Moore' - I have absolutely no idea who that is, and my hearts sinks. I tell my grandad he's signed it wrong, that he's put someone else's name - so my grandad heads back to Roger Moore, holding the ticket which he's only just signed.
I remember staying by our seats and my grandad saying "he says you've signed the wrong name. He says your name is James Bond." Roger Moore's face crinkled up with realisation and he beckoned me over. When I was by his knee, he leant over, looked from side to side, raised an eyebrow and in a hushed voice said to me, "I have to sign my name as 'Roger Moore' because otherwise…Blofeld might find out I was here." He asked me not to tell anyone that I'd just seen James Bond, and he thanked me for keeping his secret. I went back to our seats, my nerves absolutely jangling with delight. My grandad asked me if he'd signed 'James Bond.' No, I said. I'd got it wrong. I was working with James Bond now.
Many, many years later, I was working as a scriptwriter on a recording that involved UNICEF, and Roger Moore was doing a piece to camera as an ambassador. He was completely lovely and while the cameramen were setting up, I told him in passing the story of when I met him in Nice Airport. He was happy to hear it, and he had a chuckle and said "Well, I don't remember but I'm glad you got to meet James Bond." So that was lovely.
And then he did something so brilliant. After the filming, he walked past me in the corridor, heading out to his car - but as he got level, he paused, looked both ways, raised an eyebrow and in a hushed voice said, "Of course I remember our meeting in Nice. But I didn't say anything in there, because those cameramen - any one of them could be working for Blofeld."
I was as delighted at 30 as I had been at 7. What a man. What a tremendous man.
