I'm feeling pretty London. Right now, sitting in Starbucks, reading Dazed, Radiohead is lurking somewhere in the background. iPad is sitting on top of my half read Sunday Times Style magazine. It's started raining outside and King's Road beautiful people have pulled out their beautiful umbrellas and are continuing to look beautiful. But they don't really look like they're enjoying it. My caramel machiato has never tasted so good.
I've seen a lot of effortlessly cool today. Red loafers, butterfly graphics on big canvases under arms, camel coloured jumpers, tweed suits and riding boots pedalling bicycles, anoraks with espadrilles, well worn Churches brogues, satchels over Levi's, green trousers with cardigan. I love a man in a cardigan. And I love umbrellas.
Checked shirts, the return of the Mohawk, Breton stripes, old lady with leopard print umbrella, McQueen skulls, KRSC, handle bars with tassels on,studded cuffs, sherbet lemon knitted vest. Sunglasses under umbrella? No, that's just illogical. Fred Perry sporting jacket, navy with yellow stripes, cable knit cardy, the Chelsea boot in it's original setting. Court shoes with grey knitted tights, red bandana, green hair, elbow patches, stripy blue socks. I fucking love socks, they're the most underrated article of clothing.
Cotton hoodie under jacket, flares, cut off trousers, rolled up trousers. Sunday Papers and BlackBerrys. Indiana Jones hat, Desigual prints, sandwiches, chunky silver chains, cigarettes, woven colourful handbags, red lipstick, red polo shirt, cake.