BN-PG417_0804ca_H_20160804183053

Having a sartorial image that falls somewhere between the guy who drove the van for The Waterboys in the late 80’s and All About Eve’s roadie around the same time, I tend to do most of my clothes shopping on-line or in charity shops. Today, as the sun beat down on Railway Town I braved the heart of the metropolis for coffee, cake and a rummage through the second had book shops. On the way back I thought I’d have a look through some of the mainstream outfitters for perhaps an interesting shirt or a new pair of suede boots.

I came away not only empty handed but wondering when exactly did the powers that be decide that we should all dress like a prep school twat from a medium sized town in Iowa? I don’t want chinos. I don’t want a fitted check shirt. I don’t want a pair of daps!* I certainly don’t want a pair of big shorts and a baseball cap! Why is it with apparently more shopping choice than ever on the high street we are becoming increasingly more conformist and unadventurous in our fashion?

*showing my age there.

 

 

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