Last night, when I finally got served in Bar Story, I thought about ordering ‘four of whatever takes the longest to make’. You know, just like everyone in front of me always seems to do. When did ‘a couple of beers’ in a bar, turn into a greengrocer display troupe? There’s more mulching, shredding, drizzling and grating, than there is actual liquid being served. Every time I go, there’s always some toolpiece in front of me ordering an allotment’s worth of diced vegetation, served in eggcups. It. Takes. Fucking. Ages.
Balls to that arable shit. I like to keep things simple. A simple pint with a dash of lime. A simple bag of regular peanuts. A simple pair of trainers that look like MTV fucking a pyjama factory.
Spot the odd one out?
So, Bike Repair Shop is a sub-brand of massive South Korean fashion empire BeanPole. You know BeanPole. Surely? Remember? It’s that brand you’ve never heard of. The one that’s sold in precisely no UK stores. Bike Repair Shop is a sub-brand of that.
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Here’s a question. Is this only a jacket? The more I stare upon its woven weavery, the more I’m unsure. I mean, disregard for a second, whether you’d actually wear it. Just look at it. Look deep into it. See what I mean? It’s terrifying. And I’ll tell you why…
For dinner tonight I’m making my boo delicious fish. ‘Defishous’, I’m calling it. It involves some mashed potato, some, on the turn, broccoli and some defrosted peppered smoked mackerel. Defishous. You see, when you’ve got a top boo, those are the levels you need to achieve to keep it popping. I mean, not all babies deserve the primo-service. I went out with a right ogre once. A giantess, she was. Hairy as a nutsack, always shouting and swearing. After we spilt up, I heard she got pregnant. She was offered paternity leave.
For those on the struggle finding a mate, worry not, there’s hope. Out there, right now, there’s a shitpile of lucky ladies just looking to meet a bro with a detailed knowledge of the Post Overalls product range. Your problem is not finding a boo, but whittling down the quadrazillion potentials to find the right one.
Check the following wiseness and AVOID chicholinas busting the following garms. I don’t mean to be superficial or nothing. But remove them from your search, immediately. Trust, brah. I’m doing you a service here.
I sometimes pity blokes who have to ‘dress up’ for work. I’m not talking about tailors at Huntsman, or walleted, GQ-sheep in financial services. I’m talking about average, work-a-day, norms. Guys in middle-management and just below. Guys for whom style is just something that happens to other people. I’m talking about guys who wear shoes like these…
The intrepid menswearist always has an eye out for the freshness – different ways to wear stuff, new garms, original details. Ultimately, it’s about finding new takes, that when deployed in the field, make other bros feel inadequate. Healthy living dudes.
So, peep my selection of seven tomorrow-thinking deets. Crank up your superior brothermen. Let the sideways glances and casual inquiries about your kit from lesser brahs be your fuel.