Just when I thought I’d got this whole #menswear thing on lock. Just when I thought I’d got enough fire in my ‘drobe to burn until mid-Summer. I go and look at Haven. I clock this insane blazing white mish-mosh of smart and utilitarian. Everything I own is now redundant. I don’t own this fucking shirt. I know nothing about style. I’m a bag of hot shit.

If I had one of those made-up ‘Christs’ to pray to, I would. Ifuckingwantthisshirt. Yes, it’s got short sleeves and I hate short sleeves. Yes, it’s white so would get all sorts of grubbed-up. But will you not look upon it? How could any styleman not be blown sideways by the majesty of this thing? It’s got cotton oxford, cotton broadcloth, and linen cloth all harmonising together. It’s got button flap and zip pockets – and it’s a short sleeved shirt!

I don’t know what place on earth a dude wearing this would get sufficient props? Is there a disco-tech I’ve never heard of filled with dudes just posing about in fucking GANRYU shirts? Who wears this shit? Who can afford this shit? It’s 266 quid. I’m getting worked up. I need my pills. If I wasn’t already sat down, I’d sit down. I need to sit more down than down. How do I do that? I’m such a fucking loser.