This is danger-level finesse. My eyes have rolled back like a shark. I’m over-loaded with sensational. I’m feeling physical pain. This is the only fit that matters right now. This is a pint of hot Christ.
Yet, I’m looking upon this woolly totem with despair. I’m not this guy. And I’m pretty certain you’re not either. Look at that glacial stare. His proud ears. His unfathomably expensive Nicholas Daley outfit. It makes you want to give up this menswear malarkey. I’m never going to pull that off. What would my mum say? She’s not going to want to know about the baseball jersey neckline, or the vintage check patern. She’s going to wonder why her son looks like a sofa in a necklace. And I’ll explain that this is as cool as it gets right now and that middle-aged dudes can wear what they want these days. And she’ll smile and say, “I see”, in that way mums do. And I’ll feel stupid and small.
As I say, this is Nicholas Daley. Frighteningly priced. Terrifyingly current. You can’t not love it, even as you know your wallet is short of the task. The jacket alone is £518. The trousers, another £462. That’s 980 quid before you even factor in shoes and underpants. At £98 the necklace is a comparative steal. Although over at Goodhood it’s actually called a ‘choker’, and I’m sorry but I’m just not woke enough to wear anything called a choker.
I could wear the jacket alone. The fabric is stunning and typical of Daley, the fit is boxy and there are some simple, chunky pockets on there. It’d go with everything I own, I love it, I want it. I can’t afford it. But even if I could, I suspect I’d still be haunted by the vision of this irritatingly magnificent dude pulling off the full look. Sure, he’s being paid by Goodhood. But so what. Even as I sit here typing in my tatty EG cut-offs I wonder just how ridiculous I’d look in that choker.