With the relentlessness of the international SS13 Fashion Weeks behind me it was time for a few days R&R to go play in my old life in New York City.
Fashion Weeks are about peering over the fence of the present into the distant future of our wardrobes and as it turned out my trip found me time traveling to the past, spitting me out on a few memory lanes on route mostly good, some, well, not so great.
If you're a consistent reader of this column - and those similar - you will be familiar with how unpredictable, erratic and sometimes downright insane the fashion world can be; in this crazy industry it is important to step out of it once in a while to remember how to do - and feel - the normal stuff.
NYC means time spent with one of my oldest and most favourite girls. Major-player fashionista that she is, on seeing each other we immediately abandoned any sense of 'cool' as we blissfully poured ourselves into the comfy pair of slippers that we are to each other and immediately dropped our single-girl-in-big-city barriers. It wasnt until then that I realized how watertight and constricting I keep those and how rarely I let them down.
By nightfall I was on route through the city to a lovely resto in the West Village to see a friend from back in the day 'Advertising Guy'. I wore vintage leather jeans and 80s Guy Laroche jacket in homage to this visitation of old, paired with a new Christopher Kane T-shirt and favourite Nikey high-top kicks. The evening took us from dinner to some downtown bars in short it was a very late and indulgent retrospective of the path we trod together years ago a true gent.
Another tinker with 'The Flux Capacitor' and I found myself at a bar with 'The American'. Some old faithful readers may remember him from my columns of old. 'The American' is a finance guy I shared some treasured times - and some not so treasured times with (like getting locked in his building while pretending I wasn't on the walk of shame). A few fabulous uptown bars were crawled and in another NY minute I was pulling on the shades while emerging from his brownstone in the cold light of day - wow, this really was time travel...
Sadly, life dug up a not so welcome guy-ghost on that continent too. Whilst I can't claim to have the best taste in men, this one darkened my door a while back and simply won't remain in the shadows. Faux vintage is the worst; phony, utterly lacking in class and causes major irritation.
Another NY minute ticked by and I arrived back in the present - London was calling. It got me thinking about the past present and future. In fashion, the new can be really exciting and the old can feel a little passé but there is a lot to be said for basking in a little nostalgia in our present. Take vintage Dior, The Cure and those photos from way back when certain things from the past really can be just fabulous..."