I occasionally try to explain to myself my fascination with neck attire. Ties, bows, cravats, scarfs, you know, the slice of fabric that makes an outfit. I think about a youthful Saturday afternoons spent at Frinton’s St Johns Ambulance Jumble sale and the old dear on the menswear section obviously spotting my butch dyke possibilities, saving me as she did, her sounder items of vintage. The more paisley the better, the sharper the sounder. And so I grew up, an odd sod but suited and booted where ever I dared.
And then theres Weller and the soundtrack he provided that insisted on the dress up, the attire required as smart as the beats. And Sunday afternoon’s in the company of Hepburn, rocking the tweed like the star that she was. Thank you Katherine, thank you Paul, thank old jumble dear with the queer radar. You’ll always be tied to my affections.
Pass me my This Is England boxset again.
This blog was inspired by a slice of tweed from Oxfam, £3.99.