Among a certain class of aspiring gentleman exists a fondness for brightly-coloured corduroy trousers, military cut, sans turn-ups. Eschewing the usual navy blue, lovat green and camel varieties, these men express a perceived English Eccentricity with mustard yellow, scarlet, and even a strong salmon pink. But today, as I passed Balls Brothers on the corner of Buckingham Palace Road, I spied a gentleman lounging at an outside table sporting a navy blue blazer, a pale blue and white checked shirt, navy blue socks, brown Oxford shoes (brown in town, so vulgar), and violent violet cords. I double-take; surely not? But sadly, 'tis surely so; purple, bright purple – with navy blue. Adding insult to injury, his hair is slicked loosely back in caddish fashion and he carries the air of one who believes himself to be cutting a dash. Poor, deluded fool.* Oh my God, and here they are. Tsk. I thought Cordings would know better.
18 comments:
I'm certain it's a totally different scenrio, but when I was seventeen, I'd have killed for some violet corduroys. I had several pairs. My favorites were green, and they were so tight, they looked painted on. I felt like a sex symbol with my huge afro, and tight green cords, that revealed all, and left none to the imagination.
Well we have to deal with the preppy pink and green combinations here, aka the "country club" set-and they love them cords.
Oh hurray for individuality whether its deemed 'tasteful' or not! What a dull world it would be if we were all impeccably turned out, and who's to judge anyway!!! Trousers aside he may have a truly exceptional fine wine cellar
Shambhu
It'a all about the cut - trust me, you wouldn't be wanting a pair of these.
Muse
Sounds lovely...
Minxy
But that's just it - there's no individuality here - it's a uniform amongst certain upper-middle class unimaginative males - the kind who drive Range Rovers, have pretentions to being a country squire, and who would formerly have been known as Sloane Rangers. Yuck.
Puss
I've always thought Buckingham Palace Road was named entirely to cheat ignorant tourists out of large amounts of money for mediocre (or worse) hotel rooms.
But then I own a pair of aubergine coloured cords so I should probably shut up now, and never should have opened my mouth.
Not Pimlico
Well, that would depend on the cut and whether you wore them with a navy blue blazer...
*shudder*
Puss
I never wear any kind of blazer. I'd sooner go naked.
I think your pretender was wearing trousers of a more offensive cut than mine.
I also must emphasise that brown Oxfords are an anathema wherever one is, as they combine the overtly formal nature of the Oxford with the casual colour of brown. I can only hope they were not light tan (J.P. Donleavy once wrote that light tan shoes should be taken to the nearest cow infested field post haste in order to rub cow pats into them and darken their shame).
Not Pimlico
Ah, a man after my own heart; the blazer is a most offensive garment. And we're of the same mind on the Oxfords, too. Brown brogues - for the country, yes. But not in town.
The cut was that high waisted, straight cut favoured by shops such as Cordings. I always think they are designed to accommodate the bellies of retired colonels.
You refer to Donleavy's The Unexpurgated Code? I have a great fondness for that tome.
Puss
Gawd that reminds me: I snogged a man once who wore aubergine cords. I was young and naive and attracted to his intellect (clearly not his dress sense).
I was going to write: he must be the type who drives an SUV, but I see you've confirmed. . . The uniform eccentrics are showing up in Munich too, Range Rover included.
Well said about the faux country squires.
August
Yes, indeed Puss, I think it is in the unepurgated code. A fine volume indeed.
Poleminx, argh, does that mean that as the owner/manager of a most meagre intellect, and offensive cords, I am doomed to a snog free existence?
Pimlico - sorry that was inconsiderate of me. The cords were only incidental, I shudder more at the memory of rank breath and anachronistic facial hair. (Hoping you don't have a Tom Seleck moustache).
Minxy
If only intellect and personal hygiene were more closely aligned...
August
I'm sorry to hear they're spreading.
Not Pimlico
I'm sure some filly wearing a pie-crust collar shirt and an alice band would be up for a snog - try that dreadful place Sleazy, sorry Crazy Larrys on the Kings Road...
;-)
Puss
Poleminx, no it wasn't inconsiderate. I am happy to confirm Puss's suspicions. My intellect and dress sense/personal hygiene are aligned. That is to say, being thick, I am forced to be clean shaven and have fragrant breath.
Still, no one, even owners of alice bands and pie-crust collar shirts, seems to want to snog me. On reflection perhaps the lack of facial fauna and attention to oral hygiene has been my downfall. I might stop brushing and shave only selectively. Perhaps I will be mistaken for an intellectual. Perhaps not though.
Puss, thanks for the clubbing tip. I once went to Crazy Larry's and it was hideous beyond belief. That having been said it is better than one dive, sorry, five, one which is a true hell hole. In fact all the clubs in South Worst London I've been to are truly awful.
Not Pimlico
As an ex-North Londoner, I concur. On all counts except the leaving off of personal grooming. Chaps never think about the effect of stubble on a girl's softness. It makes all kinds of kissing prickly in the extreme.
You know, Michael Stipe once said 'anyone can get laid if they lower their standards enough.' I'm sure the same goes for snogging. Food for thought if you're serious about getting some kissing.
Puss
"You know, Michael Stipe once said 'anyone can get laid if they lower their standards enough.' I'm sure the same goes for snogging. Food for thought if you're serious about getting some kissing."-Pardon my ignorance, but now I'm completely confused as to the meaning of, "snogging".
Shamhu
Snogging = French kissing. UK slang.
Puss
Thanx!
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