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.

Early Morning in Bloomsbury

What is this confessional fever that grips me? Why must I chronicle every detail of my life? Is it because I fear it's a dream and believe that by fixing it on hundreds of screens I will somehow make it more lasting? When I woke this morning in Bloomsbury, the buildings through the blinds were orange in the sun, the sky was a delicious blue. My friend was pulling on his bespoke tailored suit, telling me not to get up, saying he'd set the alarm for later. But how could I sleep with this vision before me? This jacket so exquisitely tapered. These perfect white cuffs showing just below the sleeves. I wanted to reach up and pull him on top of me, to feel the cashmere bristling beneath my hands. Unfortunately he'd committed to breakfast with a banker. He had to go out into the cold.

I slept for what felt like days, but when I woke it was 8.00. The bed was a ball of warmth that had somehow turned me to lead. How was I going to get out of here when my bones were made of lead? I had no choice but to throw the duvet off me, dash it to the floor and crawl slowly toward the door. In the bathroom I stood beneath a warm downpour and looked out at Bloomsbury through the whirling steam. Such a cold grey place, everything so immaculate, the gardens so green. In all the big windows I saw people preparing to leave.

I dressed quickly in the cold; arrived at 'A Suit That Fits' with about 5 minutes to spare.

Who needs the Eiffel Tower?

Not only do I work for the most vibrant garment house in London, I must live in the most buzzing city in the world. For me, it's symbolised by the BT Tower. Not that the Tower itself is that interesting (though I can't help finding it strangely beautiful); it's more, I think, what it represents. Above all it represents London. In the year 2000 I studied at UCL and lived directly under it. Today, when I sit up in bed I can see it shining, purple, in the sky. I wake up in the morning and leave my bed. The sun is a mere white disc in the sky. There's something about the mist, the way it wraps around the Tower, that makes me tingle through and through.

The first thing that happens when I get into work is that Jen gets out her croissants, still warm from the baker's in Notting Hill. After we've eaten them with tea, I begin to write about suits. At this time in the morning, when my eyes are still opening and my head feels numb, there's nothing more lovely to write about. It helps that the quality constantly amazes me, that the prices are great and the process ingenious. When I'm done I take the customers' appointments and make sure they have everything they desire. Whatever their shape, there's a suit that fits - that's the motto that drives us.

At the end of the day I walk back through the city. The people and the traffic are sometimes oppressive. The cold and the dark are discouraging. But something quickens and tingles in my blood. My heels click, my heart skips a beat, the Tower stands phallic and empurpled against the sky. I didn't expect it to happen, I don't think I had any choice, but now I'm sure I've fallen... I've fallen hopelessly in love with London.

Experience the magic of London yourself. Visit 'A Suit That Fits'.