I hate summer time
It has precisely little value outside of its voyeuristic cachet. The mixture of loss of inhibitions and sensible practicality that leads to pleasing feminine visions also results in disgusting visuals of cross-gender partial nudity that gouge into the mind for the longest time. Lord knows why you all love to throw your clothes off and cavort around open spaces, frolicking without the mess
I have an outstanding request from one reader to advise on dressing for intemperate climes such as the one we share here in Accra. Presently, the sun has rendered me insensible; there's an ice cream headache waiting for me whenever I move to overturn these circumstances in my favour. Yes, I have air conditioning. And yes, it consistently gives me a nasty cold
For the sake of my aesthetic theory, there are usually few photographs of my summerwear; to dress for the occasion, I normally sport something elegant in black that also functions as a fitting expression of self:
I have an outstanding request from one reader to advise on dressing for intemperate climes such as the one we share here in Accra. Presently, the sun has rendered me insensible; there's an ice cream headache waiting for me whenever I move to overturn these circumstances in my favour. Yes, I have air conditioning. And yes, it consistently gives me a nasty cold
For the sake of my aesthetic theory, there are usually few photographs of my summerwear; to dress for the occasion, I normally sport something elegant in black that also functions as a fitting expression of self:
All in all, I’d rather be in Iceland
However, request my presence at a gathering with a British Summer Time theme and the topmost photo is the result. It's intended as pastiche only, with the mode owing more than minimal guidance to the photographic submissions section of The Chap. My ramie Junya Watanabe jacket, one of the few lightweight designs that can be comfortably sported above 25 degrees, deserves better than such purposeful irony. The artifice makes it wrinkle faster
One's summer jacket is a garment for pleasure because your dress options remain open. That Panama, the linen scarf, the silk neckerchief, the correspondents, the open-necked psychedelic shirt, the tasteful eyeframes, the go-to-Hell trousers in M&M palettes; it's a framework that has lasted almost a century but there's a protean manner of stretching it if one loves a challenge
For all my scepticism, I like the idea that summer is a two or so month-long Traffic Light Party for gentlemen. Consider it; sun and insensibility - what else should encourage a sartorial frolic in primary colours?
I'll be going Green
However, request my presence at a gathering with a British Summer Time theme and the topmost photo is the result. It's intended as pastiche only, with the mode owing more than minimal guidance to the photographic submissions section of The Chap. My ramie Junya Watanabe jacket, one of the few lightweight designs that can be comfortably sported above 25 degrees, deserves better than such purposeful irony. The artifice makes it wrinkle faster
One's summer jacket is a garment for pleasure because your dress options remain open. That Panama, the linen scarf, the silk neckerchief, the correspondents, the open-necked psychedelic shirt, the tasteful eyeframes, the go-to-Hell trousers in M&M palettes; it's a framework that has lasted almost a century but there's a protean manner of stretching it if one loves a challenge
For all my scepticism, I like the idea that summer is a two or so month-long Traffic Light Party for gentlemen. Consider it; sun and insensibility - what else should encourage a sartorial frolic in primary colours?
I'll be going Green
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