Beirut have been my favourite Balkan-hued, Mexican-tinged, folk-edged cabaret-pop ensemble for some time now, but I'm loving the M*A*S*H-meets-Milos Forman vibe in the video for Vagabond. Soldiers, sailors, smoky-eyed girls, and runaway chickens – if only all promos could be made this way.
19 March 2012
15 March 2012
The Lunch Club, episode 3: The Wolseley
Part 3 of an ongoing series where I break bread in stimulating company. It's a tough job, but someone's gotta etc etc.
Venue: The Wolseley, Chris Corbin and Jeremy King's beloved brasserie/grand cafe/venerable institution, bringing a touch of European class to the fleshpots of Piccadilly.
Ambience/Clientele: This is what you come to the Wolseley for; the opportunity to bask in one of the most beautiful rooms in London (buffed staircases, marble pillars; you don't look around for too long before the word “stately” springs to mind) amid the most heterogenous crowd of fellow diners – a dowager or two, a titan of industry or three, and that's obviously AA Gill, because where else would he be, and isn't that Cat Deeley? And isn't that Lucian Freud? (Well, not now, obviously, but he was such a habitue of the place that, on his death, Chris and Jeremy draped his table in a black cloth and adorned it with a single candle).
Dining Companion: The art dealer, car connisseur, architecture enthusiast, writer, and future TE blog contributor Kenny Schachter.
Food: We settled for two of the no-nonsense Wolseley staples; I had the sole and Kenny had the salmon and lentils.
What We Talked About: The perils of finding a parking space in the West End (I'd ridden my scooter in from Corbet Place, for the first time in ages, and didn't realise that you now had to pay for the privilege of parking it; Kenny gave me a hot tip regarding the corruptibility of parking staff at a nearby Holiday Inn that I'd be happy to pass on for a “handling fee”) which made me 20 minutes late; luckily, Kenny used the time wisely, downing a Rioja and greeting several art patrons at nearby tables. Our mutual love of cars – between us (though I have to say mostly on Kenny's side) we've owned and run Jaguars, Morgans, Maseratis, Hillman Imps, Sunbeam Alpines, and er, Renault Clios, and he commissioned his friend Zaha Hadid to design him a vehicle that looks like a bubble car on steroids (you can check it out, and so much more, on his website, rovetv.net). Our kids – it turns out that his boys and my girls attend the same West London educational establishment and have been taught by the same Eastern European and shockingly politically incorrect mentor; and, not uncoincidentally, Kenny's latest show Friends And Family at his Hoxton Square gallery, co-curated by two of his four sons and featuring work by his kids as well as the offspring of Bill Wyman and Anish Kapoor, alongside Damien Hirst and Tracey Emin, further proof that nepotism really does begin at home.
Venue: The Wolseley, Chris Corbin and Jeremy King's beloved brasserie/grand cafe/venerable institution, bringing a touch of European class to the fleshpots of Piccadilly.
Ambience/Clientele: This is what you come to the Wolseley for; the opportunity to bask in one of the most beautiful rooms in London (buffed staircases, marble pillars; you don't look around for too long before the word “stately” springs to mind) amid the most heterogenous crowd of fellow diners – a dowager or two, a titan of industry or three, and that's obviously AA Gill, because where else would he be, and isn't that Cat Deeley? And isn't that Lucian Freud? (Well, not now, obviously, but he was such a habitue of the place that, on his death, Chris and Jeremy draped his table in a black cloth and adorned it with a single candle).
Dining Companion: The art dealer, car connisseur, architecture enthusiast, writer, and future TE blog contributor Kenny Schachter.
Food: We settled for two of the no-nonsense Wolseley staples; I had the sole and Kenny had the salmon and lentils.
What We Talked About: The perils of finding a parking space in the West End (I'd ridden my scooter in from Corbet Place, for the first time in ages, and didn't realise that you now had to pay for the privilege of parking it; Kenny gave me a hot tip regarding the corruptibility of parking staff at a nearby Holiday Inn that I'd be happy to pass on for a “handling fee”) which made me 20 minutes late; luckily, Kenny used the time wisely, downing a Rioja and greeting several art patrons at nearby tables. Our mutual love of cars – between us (though I have to say mostly on Kenny's side) we've owned and run Jaguars, Morgans, Maseratis, Hillman Imps, Sunbeam Alpines, and er, Renault Clios, and he commissioned his friend Zaha Hadid to design him a vehicle that looks like a bubble car on steroids (you can check it out, and so much more, on his website, rovetv.net). Our kids – it turns out that his boys and my girls attend the same West London educational establishment and have been taught by the same Eastern European and shockingly politically incorrect mentor; and, not uncoincidentally, Kenny's latest show Friends And Family at his Hoxton Square gallery, co-curated by two of his four sons and featuring work by his kids as well as the offspring of Bill Wyman and Anish Kapoor, alongside Damien Hirst and Tracey Emin, further proof that nepotism really does begin at home.
14 March 2012
Superior Interior
I came across these pictures on the interweb recently and thought, hmm, what have we here? An artfully-lit view of a pristine artists' studio? A birds-eye shot down a particularly precipitous Carsten Holler-type slide? A panorama of the Giants' Causeway? Give up? They're actually Lilliputian-style images of the insides of various musical instruments – violins, trumpets, organs. It looks like a fittingly harmonious world in there, don't you think?
13 March 2012
Cheltenham's Mastor of the Horse
Guest post by Colin Cameron
At Cheltenham, where the Festival of National Hunt racing begins today and runs until Friday, there are four significant statues.
Cast in enduring bronze for perpetuity is a quartet of horses that represent the best of their respective generations; Golden Miller, Arkle, Dawn Run and Best Mate.
Be assured, we will get on to bespoke matters soon enough. Ahead of that, whether or not racing is your thing, or if you are passing up travelling to the Cotswolds this year to what is the home of National Hunt “jumps” racing, please still pay your respects to talent that showed excellence, as well as resolve and courage over hurdles and fences, in what is one of the toughest sports there is.
The four of them have certainly earned this. Golden Miller won the Gold Cup a record five times and in 1934 the Grand National as well, the only horse ever to complete such a double. Best Mate won the same Gold Cup – the centerpiece of the Cheltenham Festival - three times in the altogether more competitive modern era. Dawn Run won the Gold Cup and Champion Hurdle, the only horse to do so, and a mare to boot.
And Arkle? Even if his three Gold Cups only match Best Mate’s treble and leave him two down on Golden Miller, Arkle remains the greatest of them all. At Cheltenham, nearly half a century on since he graced the turf, he is still known simply as Himself.
Actually, a fifth statue - leaving aside the one commemorating the late Queen Mother from which you would struggle to recognize her – is warranted. Lord Vestey, who for many years could claim the wonderfully understated title of chairman of the Cheltenham Steeplechase Company and Master of the Horse, should be honoured alongside the greats of winter’s jumps racing code.
In Sam’s case – at Cheltenham it is always Sam - celebrated should be his wardrobe. The festival always brims with color. The threads of Vestey’s tweeds, cut with flair and derring do – incidentally, also the name of a top class racehorse in the 1960s - make a major contribution to this every year.
Vestey, also known as the “Beef Baron” on the back of his family’s butchers’ business, sets the standard of dress. In racing there are many more statues of National Hunt stars, which race on sometimes to their teenage years, than of Flat racing’s best, where prospects of a lucrative career at stud means retirement with unseemly haste. Similarly, Vestey’s suits, bespoke in every way, endure.
Plenty compare Cheltenham to Royal Ascot on the grounds that the racing is of the highest standard for the respective codes. The latter is five days of the ultimate in flat racing at the height of summer. Cheltenham is the culmination of a winter’s jumps racing with championship honours at stake for hurdling and steeplechasing.
Yet there is a significant difference between Cheltenham and Ascot over and above obstacles to negotiate at the former. At the latter great stock is placed on dress codes. At Cheltenham, little guidance at all is provided beyond a suggestion that “smart” would be best.
What is most interesting about this contrast is that while Ascot features most years efforts by folk to subvert the rules, crowds at Cheltenham take their cue from the top. In other words from the tone Sam Vestey strikes.
If Vestey sets the bar, others if not seeking to surpass it gravitate upwards towards it. The noble lord’s tweeds almost shout at you that this is a place and an occasion for self-expression. This serves as inspiration to others. As a consequence the cuts and complexities of suits, coats and jackets at Cheltenham certainly serve as a significant enhancement to proceedings.
That is the trouble with “dress codes”. Of course, some advice is helpful. And Cheltenham, like pretty much every public gathering today, has an element of careless dress that is indicative of the lack of attention that can prevail among some in the wider world. But Cheltenham accepts the folly of seeking to impose a culture and instead recognizes that it is altogether better to set an example.
Earlier this year Ascot actually sought to tighten dress codes not only for Royal Ascot – unacceptable now are fascinators, so what was allowed last year will see you barred this June – but for the track’s other fixtures. News of this was conveyed on the course’s website. Further to this, a plan was conceived whereby all those who had failed to absorb the new expectations from a visit to Ascot.co.uk would be advised of the change, collared by Ascot’s team of famously bowler-hated gatemen. All just about reasonable until we reach the part of the plan, which meant after what could only be considered a lecture an orange spot was to be attached to the lapels of any miscreants.
The logic of this was that the spot would ensure that the lecture would not be repeated. In fact, the outcome was a rebellion against a process of literally attaching stigma. Ultimately, after 48 hours of fire fighting an across-the-board refund of all paying customers was agreed, either for direct and personal humiliation endured or simply for witnessing others suffer.
You can take a horse to water but you cannot make it drink; something in this as far as racecourse attire goes, me thinks. Safe to say that many of those at Cheltenham will want some of what Sam Vestey is having.
At Cheltenham, where the Festival of National Hunt racing begins today and runs until Friday, there are four significant statues.
Cast in enduring bronze for perpetuity is a quartet of horses that represent the best of their respective generations; Golden Miller, Arkle, Dawn Run and Best Mate.
Be assured, we will get on to bespoke matters soon enough. Ahead of that, whether or not racing is your thing, or if you are passing up travelling to the Cotswolds this year to what is the home of National Hunt “jumps” racing, please still pay your respects to talent that showed excellence, as well as resolve and courage over hurdles and fences, in what is one of the toughest sports there is.
The four of them have certainly earned this. Golden Miller won the Gold Cup a record five times and in 1934 the Grand National as well, the only horse ever to complete such a double. Best Mate won the same Gold Cup – the centerpiece of the Cheltenham Festival - three times in the altogether more competitive modern era. Dawn Run won the Gold Cup and Champion Hurdle, the only horse to do so, and a mare to boot.
And Arkle? Even if his three Gold Cups only match Best Mate’s treble and leave him two down on Golden Miller, Arkle remains the greatest of them all. At Cheltenham, nearly half a century on since he graced the turf, he is still known simply as Himself.
Actually, a fifth statue - leaving aside the one commemorating the late Queen Mother from which you would struggle to recognize her – is warranted. Lord Vestey, who for many years could claim the wonderfully understated title of chairman of the Cheltenham Steeplechase Company and Master of the Horse, should be honoured alongside the greats of winter’s jumps racing code.
In Sam’s case – at Cheltenham it is always Sam - celebrated should be his wardrobe. The festival always brims with color. The threads of Vestey’s tweeds, cut with flair and derring do – incidentally, also the name of a top class racehorse in the 1960s - make a major contribution to this every year.
Vestey, also known as the “Beef Baron” on the back of his family’s butchers’ business, sets the standard of dress. In racing there are many more statues of National Hunt stars, which race on sometimes to their teenage years, than of Flat racing’s best, where prospects of a lucrative career at stud means retirement with unseemly haste. Similarly, Vestey’s suits, bespoke in every way, endure.
Plenty compare Cheltenham to Royal Ascot on the grounds that the racing is of the highest standard for the respective codes. The latter is five days of the ultimate in flat racing at the height of summer. Cheltenham is the culmination of a winter’s jumps racing with championship honours at stake for hurdling and steeplechasing.
Yet there is a significant difference between Cheltenham and Ascot over and above obstacles to negotiate at the former. At the latter great stock is placed on dress codes. At Cheltenham, little guidance at all is provided beyond a suggestion that “smart” would be best.
What is most interesting about this contrast is that while Ascot features most years efforts by folk to subvert the rules, crowds at Cheltenham take their cue from the top. In other words from the tone Sam Vestey strikes.
If Vestey sets the bar, others if not seeking to surpass it gravitate upwards towards it. The noble lord’s tweeds almost shout at you that this is a place and an occasion for self-expression. This serves as inspiration to others. As a consequence the cuts and complexities of suits, coats and jackets at Cheltenham certainly serve as a significant enhancement to proceedings.
That is the trouble with “dress codes”. Of course, some advice is helpful. And Cheltenham, like pretty much every public gathering today, has an element of careless dress that is indicative of the lack of attention that can prevail among some in the wider world. But Cheltenham accepts the folly of seeking to impose a culture and instead recognizes that it is altogether better to set an example.
Earlier this year Ascot actually sought to tighten dress codes not only for Royal Ascot – unacceptable now are fascinators, so what was allowed last year will see you barred this June – but for the track’s other fixtures. News of this was conveyed on the course’s website. Further to this, a plan was conceived whereby all those who had failed to absorb the new expectations from a visit to Ascot.co.uk would be advised of the change, collared by Ascot’s team of famously bowler-hated gatemen. All just about reasonable until we reach the part of the plan, which meant after what could only be considered a lecture an orange spot was to be attached to the lapels of any miscreants.
The logic of this was that the spot would ensure that the lecture would not be repeated. In fact, the outcome was a rebellion against a process of literally attaching stigma. Ultimately, after 48 hours of fire fighting an across-the-board refund of all paying customers was agreed, either for direct and personal humiliation endured or simply for witnessing others suffer.
You can take a horse to water but you cannot make it drink; something in this as far as racecourse attire goes, me thinks. Safe to say that many of those at Cheltenham will want some of what Sam Vestey is having.
12 March 2012
A Window on Hockney
Londoners are very fortunate at the moment to be inundated with fantastic exhibition after fantastic exhibition (Picasso at the Tate Britain, Lucian Freud at the National Portrait Gallery and Blain/Southern, Turner at the National Gallery, Yayoi Kusama at the Tate Modern, David Hockney at the Royal Academy, Damien Hurst at the Tate Modern and British Design at the V&A opening next month...). We took a design team inspiration trip to David Hockney's A Bigger Picture, and I'm pretty sure it's been a direct inspiration for our latest Bruton Place window display.
We've given it a colourful revamp, creating a pseudo artist's studio. Our cream peak-lapel double-breasted jacket makes an appearance (as worn by Oliver Thorton recently), with our new yellow paisley handkerchief, plum knitted tie, and beige contrast collar shirt, along with a pair of tortoiseshell rimmed round glasses which were kindly loaned to us by Lunettes London. We've also styled our bespoke travel blazer, in bright purple herringbone with yellow shoulder patch, undercollar and stitching, leather buttons, and paint brushes stored in the side pocket newspaper strap. Following the yellow theme, we've put in a pair of our wide braces, and a print of our signature Spitalfields flower on the easel. Inspiring Spring looks, don't you think?
We've given it a colourful revamp, creating a pseudo artist's studio. Our cream peak-lapel double-breasted jacket makes an appearance (as worn by Oliver Thorton recently), with our new yellow paisley handkerchief, plum knitted tie, and beige contrast collar shirt, along with a pair of tortoiseshell rimmed round glasses which were kindly loaned to us by Lunettes London. We've also styled our bespoke travel blazer, in bright purple herringbone with yellow shoulder patch, undercollar and stitching, leather buttons, and paint brushes stored in the side pocket newspaper strap. Following the yellow theme, we've put in a pair of our wide braces, and a print of our signature Spitalfields flower on the easel. Inspiring Spring looks, don't you think?
09 March 2012
Arriving soon in the TE shop...
A few teaser shots from our photoshoot in Elder Street yesterday of our new Spring ready-to-wear jackets, which will be available on our online shop from next week (watch this space...).
08 March 2012
Fit for a King
In last month's arty write-up of London's current shows, I mentioned that I'd been lucky enough to have a tour of the Blain/Southern exhibition of Lucian Freud's drawings, an artist synonymous with his unapologetic depictions of the naked body. Having seen some of his lesser known drawings in the show, I enjoyed this article for the Wall Street Journal by Tina Gaudoin, focusing more on Freud's treatments of clothing. His last drawing was of my friend Jeremy King of the Wolseley, who I'm very flattered to say wore one of our suits for his sitting (he sat for him more than 100 times).
Read the full article here.
Freud's drawing of Jeremy, from the Blain/Southern book Lucian Freud Drawings, selected by William Feaver.
Read the full article here.
Freud's drawing of Jeremy, from the Blain/Southern book Lucian Freud Drawings, selected by William Feaver.
07 March 2012
Shirting fans: good news, we've just added a small selection from our cotton shirt collection to the online store, with more added in the coming weeks. Made in London in a fine twill cotton, this range suits both formal and business-casual occasions.
Click on the images below to view details...
06 March 2012
An Intelligent Choice of Suit
Renowned art dealer Will Ramsay makes an appearance in this month's Intelligent Life magazine, wearing a bright pink wool/silk blend suit with Mother of Pearl buttons from our ready-to-wear collection. Read the full article on page 70...
05 March 2012
Grey London
For the last few weeks, our Mayfair store window has been dressed suitably for a dreary first few months of the year. Our early Spring collection takes inspiration from the foggiest of London mornings: mid-grey suits lifted with bright pop colours of yellow, orange and french navy for accessories, against white and faint blue.
We styled our grey Prince of Wales check suit (£700) with a blue fine twill shirt (£125), blue tonal Spitalfields flower tie (£85), and blue spotted handkerchief (£25). Our classic grey sharkskin peak lapel single breasted suit (£750) is worn with a white twill shirt (£125), a yellow and grey Spitalfields flower tie (£85), and a bright yellow paisley handkerchief (£25).
We've just had delivery of our brand new range of umbrellas, including this Prince of Wales check print one, with a beautiful wooden handle, and lined inside in a light brown. We've been working with London Undercover to develop style incorporating our signature Spitalfields Flower print, which will be available later this year.
All accessories are available on our webshop, and from today, we've added our fine twill cotton shirts, with more product areas in the coming weeks. It's all go here...
We styled our grey Prince of Wales check suit (£700) with a blue fine twill shirt (£125), blue tonal Spitalfields flower tie (£85), and blue spotted handkerchief (£25). Our classic grey sharkskin peak lapel single breasted suit (£750) is worn with a white twill shirt (£125), a yellow and grey Spitalfields flower tie (£85), and a bright yellow paisley handkerchief (£25).
We've just had delivery of our brand new range of umbrellas, including this Prince of Wales check print one, with a beautiful wooden handle, and lined inside in a light brown. We've been working with London Undercover to develop style incorporating our signature Spitalfields Flower print, which will be available later this year.
All accessories are available on our webshop, and from today, we've added our fine twill cotton shirts, with more product areas in the coming weeks. It's all go here...
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