In Training

< insert obligatory apology for not blogging for six months >

So. I'm not quite sure why, but I'm now more or less living in these trainers. I didn't even own any Nikes before Christmas, and I'm starting to wonder what I spent the last twenty-asdghfhg years with on my feet. Don't get me wrong, I've always had a few pairs of trainers knocking about, but for some reason these have become my 'I'm wearing those today and tomorrow, in fact every day' shoe. As usual, I picked them up in a sale, this time at Office in Topman, on the day before LCM, in a moment of 'I've got nothing new to wear so I'd better buy SOMETHING' panic. These Nike Air Vortex Vintage spoke to me and I saw, tried them on and bought them in about 3 minutes flat. They're both exceptionally comfy - kinda essential as I'm getting as old as the hills - but also still cool; the mix of colours means that they stand out, and the metallic sheen give them an extra dimension. I've got a few other pairs on the go (some New Balance 420s, Ellesse Italia Heritages and another pair of Nikes), but these are what it's all about for me. Perhaps I'm blinded, but is there anything that they wouldn't go with? I've got a worrying feeling that I'm probably going to become one of those sneaker obsessives who seeks out rare colourways and stores piles of never-worn kicks in a cupboard under the stairs. It's a worrying thought, but I could totally go that way. The whole retro trainer thing has been a big story in fashion for a while now, but it's only just filtering onto the catwalks - see the recent lust that those camo Valentino kicks created? Or how everyone from Raf Simons to Lanvin is showing trainers on the runway? The thing that makes the look is to pair trainers not with jeans and a sweater (though obvs I am guilty of that) but with tailored jackets or smart coats for a real mixed-up approach. It's what I'll be doing at LFW in a fortnight's time...
Other Staples of the week:
Nike Air Vortex Vintage
Alicia Drake's 'The Beautiful Fall'
Rhye's album, 'Woman'
Still baking cheese scones
Africa on the BBC
The latest issue of Man About Town magazine
Finally making it to Paris men's fashion week

Don't Shoot the Messenger; Steal His Bag!

Just as rucksacks become hot property in menswear, I've decided that I'm all about the courier bag. It stems (as with many of my purchases recently) from the bicycle. Much as I love a rucksack, you can't swing it around your body to get your phone/keys etc on a regular basis, and if it's warm, your back will get all sweaty. Plus, I just can't get a rucky to look good with my trenchcoat (in fact I've not even worn a cross-body bay with the trench - it crumples it and spoils the lines...or something). Anyway, since late last summer I've been reusing what was my old school bag from 6th Form - A red Manhattan Portage number that my Dad bought me back from NYC. I must've had this for a good 12 years, and aside from a slightly mashed buckle, it's still in perfect order. It's probably about the simplest bag you can buy, one zip pocket and a main pouch, thick black strap and that's it, but that's why it's lasted so long. It looks fine whatever it's stuffed with and is moderately waterproof as well, which helps. A quick glance through my wardrobe shows it's actually the oldest thing in there (vintage stuff that I've bought more recently excluded), which is a testament both to the durability of Manhattan Portage and the vast turnaround of clothes one can have in a decade. From the oldest item to the newest, and it's another courier bag. This time, it's one from the recent(ish) Raf Simons for Eastpak SS09 range which I picked up from Le 66 on the Champs-Elysées in Paris on a recent 2-day trip for my birthday. It might look like a dodgy shopping centre from the outside, but inside it's packed with discounted clothes and shoes for boys and girls - I'm talking Acne, Marc Jacobs, Paul & Joe, Castelbajac, Helmut Lang - good quality streetwear in other words. This beauty was tucked away and 50% off, making it a perfect indulgent-but-not-mad Paris purchase. It's longer than a conventional courier bag (oblong rather than rectangular) and zips up with some lovely little silver leather zip-pulls. It's also got a reflective silver leather base; perfect for cycling at night! Sale+Simons+Cycling=Too good to miss. I've been using it for a couple of weeks now, and all's working out nicely. It more than copes with the crap I haul about all day, and like the Portage is pretty waterproof. This might all change if I find a rucksack I like the look of, but for now, I'm firmly in/a Camp Courier. Other Staples this week:
Raf Simons for Eastpak & Manhattan Portage courier bags
Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie icecream
Music from Ibiza 1999 (and DJing it at a house party)
Tom Ford's film, A Single Man
Finishing work, and embarking on a freelancing career
Paul Auster's new novel, Invisible
A pack of new socks from M&S

A French Trench Quench

My APC obsession began some years ago. As this blog has progressed, I've been through a period of much APC-purchasing, which has only become worse now that the brand is so easily available in London. It used to be just a small concession in Liberty and a stand at Selfridges, but now there's racks of it in both stores, and in Urban Outfitters, as well as a dedicated standalone store on Dover Street, opposite the famed Market. Anyway, after a lovely Xmas gift of a Liberty-print shirt from my fantastically generous parents (not quite right, sadly, and very similar to a Prada one I have), I decided to trade up for something a little more substantial. APC's coats are a particular weakness of mine (I already have a chambray/cotton striped peacoat), and spotting this gem in the Liberty sale sealed the deal for me. The detailing is superior, from the waistbelt to the front shoulder flap (originally designed to correctly shoulder a rifle, apparently), and the colour a slightly unusual navy, it was perfect for my birthday trip to Paris (which involved a trip to the APC sale shop in Montmartre, 20 rue Andre del Sarte; a must-visit if you're there). I've worn it practically every day since, and I particularly like it for its extra-long sleeves (to fit my silly ape arms) and French Resistance charm. It's one of those pieces (like so much of APC) that is made great by simplicity of cut and good quality detailing, but which doesn't scream 'designer'. Like an Audi RS2, or a Ferrari-engined Lancia Thema 8.32, this trenchcoat punches well above its weight (and price) and I'm hoping that it will make a great first impression at some interviews. It certainly did when I was in Paris, and met up with the fantastic Editors of BuckStyle, Celia and Steve. Whatever happens, this coat has certainly started my year off well, and been surprisingly warm in the recent cold snap, and I reckon it's going to be a brilliant Spring transition coat - hopefully smartening up my wardrobe and weaning me off the oh-so comfy canvas plimsolls...Watch this space! Other Staples this week:
The fantastic Renee Ashby
Pawel's album on Kompakt
Washing my APC wool bag (which was disturbingly filthy)
Champagne breakfasts
Shouting out the answers to University Challenge
Dalston Jazz Club
David Byrne's book 'Bicycle Diaries'

Parisian Staples

To finish my bumper week-long (but alas posted late) éloge to Paris, here's a selection of my favourite things there that I've particularly relished this past week:
Colette and its brilliant range of expertly-selected apparel, media and accessories
Using the Vélib system
Wandering aimlessly through the Tuileries and across the Seine
Being able to watch A Bout de Souffle on a big screen at last
The finest pastries and macaroons in the world
Beautiful, well-dressed citizens
An atmosphere of civility

La vie Parisienne

So owing to some uninteresting hardware issues here, I've unfortunately not been able to blog quite as much as I might have liked. Sat here in the Eurostar terminal (on the floor, bien sur - chairs are obviously not aesthetically pleasing enough for Gare du Nord), I'm struck once again by a love for Paris. I still can't place my finger on exactly what it is, but if pushed, I'll say the atmosphere of civility. There's something exceptionally correct about working a legal number of maximum hours (35 per week) with a legally imposed hour's lunch break, having your company pay for your lunch, having a reasonable amount of paid holiday and a healthy respect for how and how not to work. Added to this is the idea that an afternoon spent in a cafe en bavardant is an acceptable weekend activity, and not spending every waking hour not in work down the pub (though don't get me wrong, I love doing this, it can be a little heavy on mind, body and wallet) makes for a particularly serene experience. Yes, this was more of a holiday than a business trip, but it just feels right here. It feels like priorities are in the right place in Paris, and as I sit here surrounded by British tourists fretting about passport control, the time, the weather and how to spend those last damned Euros, I find myself wondering if I should just stay after all. Parisian life is the epitome of a Staple - not just parties and gigs (though that's there if you want it) but a more fulfilling, pleasant and civilised way of spending your days. Paris, je t'aime.

Vélo = Liberté

Paris' public transport system, despite its frequent strikes and curious but easily identifiable odours, works. The Métro is frequent, stops near everything and costs half the price of London's. The buses, while rarer, run for miles and always have enough space. Late-night taxis are impossible, but that's because the system is so well-regulated that it has practically eliminated the illegal minicab element. Overground services are also well-run, timely and cheap by British standards. Best of all are the Vélibs. The name comes from a compression of vélo (bike) and liberté (freedom; the first bastion of French culture, from Liberté, égalité, fraternité) and is so simple that it's hard to understand why it's not been thought of or adopted more widely. The premise is that locked around town at certain points are thousands of bikes, and all you need do to borrow one is let them check if you have €150 in your bank, and pay a daily charge (the princely sum of one euro, or 60p) and then you're off, free to cycle at leisure wherever you want. The only catch is that you have to return the bike to get back your deposit, but this can be at any other Vélib point in the city. Its marvellous. Coupled with this iniative has been a brilliantly implemented and constantly circulating system of cycle lanes, running the length and breadth of Paris. While the bikes are not particularly pretty, they are practical (think Ford Fiesta, rather than Aston Martin) and well-designed. I borrowed one for an afternoon, and despite Paris' awful reputation for terrible driving, I survived. It all seemed rather bohemian cycling around with a plant tucked into the basket...and from a roadside vantage, people-watching was much more fun. Paris by bicycle is a definite must-do when in the city.

Vive Paris

I have, of course, blogged about my love of Paris before. It is, despite its smelly tube, tiny flats, lack of parks and a thousand and one other badnesses, my spiritual home. Last week I had the pleasure of reporting from this different urban metropolis, and believe me, the pleasure was all mine. After a trip which has been over 6 months in preparation and thanks to a lovely Anglophile colleague in my company's Paris office, I'm was in la belle ville for a week, working (a little) and wandering (mostly). Eurostar aside (fires in the tunnel do not equal a Staple), this journey yet again reminded my why Paris is not just another city, it is an entire way of life. I'm staying in Anicee's small but beautifully formed studio, just around the corner from one of Paris' few parks, the Buttes-Chaumont. Just treading those streets again, wandering aimlessly and being able to walk from work to the rue du Faubourg St-Honore and browse in some of the most gorgeous designer boutiques in the world sans peur, drop into one of my top 5 shops in the world, Colette and pick up a huge stack of CDs and magazines, and then return back home, fling open the shutters and dine alfresco with a bottle of Leffe and a gorgeous sunset is really enough for me. Added to that my weekly shop here cost €18, and tomorrow will see me hitting both the (brilliantly-kept secret) APC stock shop and the cinema on the Canal St. Martin, and I am in living heaven. I hope to add some more to the 'Paris is amazing' debate as the week progresses, but one phrase which makes everything so appealing will definitely feature later on: 35-hour week. This week will be a special Staple of one thing: Paris. Seven essentials will follow come the weekend (and here's hoping that I get to go to the Technoparade...)

L'agrafe

It's only recently hit me just how much affection I seem to have for Paris. Any time I see an image of la belle ville, or cast a passing thought back to my year there, I think to myself 'Oh, Paris!' Of course it has its drawbacks, and I had a very goodtime/badtime year there, but there's something so alluring about that city, still, 2 years on. I suppose it's the same sort of sensation I used to get when I first moved to London, strolling through King's Cross listening to the Libertines en route to Camden, and though I still get that to a certain extent, its much less than it used to be. Paris' - or indeed any city's - allure is completely subjective, but I think that the unhurried and thoroughly civilised pace of life, combined with a classic elegance in both architecture and fashion, nouvelle vague references, and in my case a thorough knowledge of its geography makes Paris very irrestible. It was while on the train back from Leeds that I realised (although reading the Observer's Paris special issue probably helped) that I have such affection for a city. I think the way I discovered it, as a povertylicious student-flâneur probably helped, but Hemingway's quote from his memoirs of his time there sums it up best: "If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast." I can't wait for the new, quicker Eurostar link to open literally under my feet. This week's Staples are:
Spending leisurely time in Paris
Moleskine notebooks
Grey leather lace-up shoes from B Store
Reading literature on the Tube, not 'Metro'
Lemon fairy cakes with buttercream icing
Pink champagne
Jeremy Warmsley's album, 'The Art of Fiction'