The Sexy City-Worker Destroyed

City workers are a curious commodity. On the one hand they project a powerful style, epitomised by the pinstripe suit; on the other, they represent the pursuit of money in a solely economic world. Only this morning, as I was passing Bank, I noticed a young banker in line at the cash machine. There was something about him that stopped me in my tracks, and I stood fixated at the entrance to the Tube, casting my eyes up and down the stripes in his suit. The way they ran vertically down the length of his body seemed to accentuate every curve.

As the cold October wind broke over me, banishing the underground heat, the man began to walk towards me, his jacket pulled tight around his waist. Panic was drawn in his dimly-lit eyes. I could see streaks of grey in his hair. And as he passed me and I turned to look, the bottom of his jacket flared open, suggesting the natural shape of his hips.

All those hours, I thought, have aged him. His face looks dark and drawn. He needs some sunshine to sweep away the gloom. A holiday, perhaps, or a romantic meal for two. Before I headed off into the burgeoning crowds, I watched him hook a finger and yank his collar slightly open. I caught a glimpse of shining leather. It was one of those necklaces people wear when they're returning from places like Thailand. Perhaps he's a surfer, I thought. A traveller in foreign lands. Whatever he was once, he's gradually fading now. Like a mummy wrapped in expensive linen...

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Thoughts of Ivory and Red

When our latest customer’s suit arrived this morning, my colleagues thought it had a touch of the Man from Del Monte. I found it decidedly more sinister than that.

Off-white, finely-woven, at first it conjured images of a pleasant, grey-haired man strolling contentedly beneath a hot Spanish sun. The ideal suit, we thought, for wearing at garden parties at the height of summer or for watching cricket on the village green. Just as we were beginning to get lost in these bucolic fantasies, we opened the jacket’s two front panels and our eyes began to reel. Beneath the ivory Del-Monte Man veneer lurked a devilish blood-red lining! No longer were we in any doubt as to this suit’s real nature. Bloody passion clearly boiled beneath what had first appeared serene.

Ivory and red. Ivory and red. The juxtaposition alarmed me. The outer fabric was like a skin, which opened like a gash; it made me think of elephants killed for their precious tusks; the red recalled their blood. I had to pack the suit away and take it to the post office immediately. What fertile imaginations our customers have, I thought, as I watched the parcel being carried away.

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The Green Subversion Has Begun

Who would have thought that a bright green lining could look so freaking COOL? That's what occured to me this morning when I opened the parcel containing our customers' latest suits. The suit itself was a navy affair, made from the softest cashmere. It wasn't until I looked inside that my eyes started painfully reeling, in wonder at this stunning green. If you'd told me last week that this rather unpleasant colour could be stylish, even tasteful, I'd have laughed in your face. But having witnessed it in all its grandeur, stitched inside a classic navy suit, I can't help feeling I've been converted. There's always been a mystery about the colour green - an aura of antiquity and magic, of believing in things that perhaps aren't quite there. Not only is it the most superstitious colour (seamstresses, they say, never use green the night before a fashion show, for fear of bringing down bad luck), it's also the richest, most fertile. It's the colour of the earth after life-giving rain, of the blood that flows in nature's veins, of everything unappetising like snot and mould: no wonder then, that in this age of cold-hearted reason - when capital is worshipped in place of the earth - the colour green is laughed at and demeaned.

As I composed the paragraph above it occured to me what a subversive thing it would be to carry the colour green around London. Inside the flaps of my jacket, visible only to passers-by in unsettling corner-of-the-eye glimpses... perhaps, as I walked to work, it would send messages spinning through the Square Mile, strange little reminders of the importance of the earth and those mysteries that lie somewhere beyond the reach of science. Wear your green lining with pride. Visit 'A Suit That Fits', the only garment house in London in touch with the power of green.

Face Races! - a crazy new internet phenomenon

Combining narcissism with business is hardly a new idea. With anything successful these days, image is of the utmost importance. But a website that exploits this rule so egregiously by letting people advertise their webspace using images of their own face must come pretty close to genius. Nowhere is the blending of business with the skin-deep more apparent than in the crazy phenomenon called Face Races.

For a fee of 5 pounds you enter your photo. If people decide they like what they see they click on your face and are taken directly to your personal site or business. Not only do you get to see how your face compares in popularity with the rest, you also get to drive valuable traffic to your site. Unleash your narcissism and your business potential here.