Day 88: Beau Window

A day working on Jermyn Street.  Surrounded by emporiums dedicated to cloth and leather, and cut.  Not fashion - too classic for that.  Turnbull & Asser, John Lobb, Thomas Pink.  Top off your cloth with a shave (Geo. F Trumper) and a fat cigar (Davidoff).  All under the watchful eye of Beau Brummell, immortalised in bronze.  I am keenly aware of my worn-down shoes (comfortable as slippers but frankly, like my glasses, shagged).  And my cardigan - substance over style.  I  guiltily avoid Beau's supercilious metallic gaze.  (But I suspect that he sees all, and is not impressed.)   



Lunch is served to me with much pomp and flourish, and in a shiny black lacquer box, with linen napkin.  It's just sandwiches and fruit - but artistically decorated with velvety pansies.  It looks and feels SPECIAL.  I stroke the pansies before I eat them (peppery). (See left - this is my ACTUAL lunch, not a stock photo.)


I am lazy when it comes to presentation.  I know this - and it's part of who I am.  I will never be interested in nail extensions, bouffy blow drys, or stripper heels.  But that lunch reminds me that the quality and detail of presentation makes even plain things appear valuable - and they are therefore valued.

(Not my shoe.  Honestly.) 

I think I need some new shoes.