From South Ken to Shoreditch, from Jermyn Street to Mare Street – these days anyone that’s anyone is wearing red trousers.
If you want your leg-coverings to let the world know that you’ve got a few quid and don’t care who knows it, or that you have some big ideas about what’s on at the ICA right now - or simply that you are completely insane (but in a mainly non-stabby way) - then you’d better get your wife or girlfriend to take those jeans and chinos down to the charity shop post-haste!
Because there’s only one type of trousers you’ll be wanting to wear, and that’s RED TROUSERS. In fact - if you can’t wear red trousers you’d be better off wearing NO TROUSERS AT ALL. That’s what I say.
Friday, 23 December 2011
Recently escaped from a North Korean prison camp or rescued from a shipwreck, and not having enough time to get much of a disguise together, could this be a frail and confused Santa Claus catching the train to Lapland?
I like the way both the trousers and the threadbare Guernsey jumper are a size too small.
(This characterful independent bookseller obviously deserves respect and support, but I'm afraid he has to go in the "lunatic" category.)
Monday, 5 December 2011
A nice plush velvety corduroy offset by a solid tweedy coat. Also: trousers pleasingly a couple of inches too short.
(Although - and not wishing to be unkind here - I'm not sure the small-bag-over-shoulder look is quite the thing for a true Terracotta Warrior...)