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Sylvester Stallone’s mum


I’m not sure they’ve got a name. These dangly, glasses laces. I know that up until recently, I’d associate them with Miami beach grannies. Cracked and moist like brownies on the turn. Turbo-Mrs Robinsons, high on Cosmos, boasting Brazilian fannies, looking like they’ve been lacquered in marmite and rolled through Bvlgari. Glasses cords are not exactly cool. Which is why I’m wearing them.


When the weather rockets up and there’s no blazer pocket to accommodate a bro’s specs, what are the options? In my pre-cord lifestyle, I put them back in their box. Wearing sunnies or specs on the top of head when not in use is obviously inhumane. A shameful, unsavoury act, that’s suggestive of a dude comfortable in three-quarter-length cargo shorts, sports sandals and Walkabout public houses. The fresh option, is to reclaim the specs cord. An option I’m pursuing with some urgency.


I’m currently rolling with a plain tan leather cord on my reading specs and a faux leather, woven mix on my sunnies (RetroSuperFuture from Goodhood.). Both cost peanuts from the appropriately named,

Irrespective of anything sniffing at the balls of cool, they’re really practical. Especially for the visually ashamed like myself. The day-to-day process of whipping glasses on and off at work, in restaurants , or on the tube is made much more fluid.


Cheap, rare and solidly utilitarian, I can see a new menswear trend in the making here. You’ve just got to get over the fact that these things are usually spotted on Sylvester Stallone’s mum.

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