So, let me take you on a tale. I was rocking a pair of boozes last night, with my boo and her friend. It was all shapes of chilly in London town’s fashionable London’s Soho. We were squatting outside, so this bro could get his fumeur on. It was cold. I mean, I didn’t have to force a chair leg between someone’s teeth, pore half a bottle of rum on their trousers and hacksaw their gangrenous leg off. It was just, you know, a little fresh.
I was double-taming the menswear, with a rig-out that boasted both sensitive steez and barbarous warmth. I’d got an Oliver Spencer, simple grey wool hat going on and a navy, Wolsey chore from last season. That thing’s totally on my line. Camo on the inside of the cuff brah? You know that shit is a must-flip.
I was also busting a mustard, Folk gillet. Now, I’ve had a lot of grief about this. Yes, it was in the sale. Yes, it’s very warm thank you. No, I don’t regret it. Yes, I’m going to wear it again. Please stop calling me Steve Zissou.
Gillets are solid-style in my book. Particularly potent when worn over a blazer. It’s like a jacket right, but kind of with no sleeves and shit. I guess most people wear gillets under other jackets. I’m totally not about that. I’m so not about that, I wouldn’t do it. Except, and only except, if I did. On that occasion I would.
Anyway, that was my sartorial apparatus, last night, as I went wildstyle with lager and lime. I was there, outside this bar, just pondering some high level shit about whether turtlenecks are coming back, when I’m interrupted by a female voice.
“Excuse me, are you, like, totally, Rampboy blog?”
It was celebrity thespian Kirsten Dunst.
“Yeah, I guess…”, I said, “but you know what, I’m kind of off duty right now, I’m just having a couple of drinks with my friends.”
“But, I just wanna say”, she continued, “I totally love your site. I’m like, totally obsessed with obscure European, Japanese and American menswear brands.”
“Really” , I sighed.
“Yeah, I’m like, totes into Engineered Garments’ second spring drop over at Garbstore and…”, she gasped, “I’m on the mailing list for the Reebok X End Instapump Fury in claret.”
So I did the decent thing and let Mary Jane get a picture with me. And it was cool and I smiled and did that V sign thing. I guess, it’s not every day a successful Hollywood actress meets a balding, menswear blogist from the Midlands.
