Had a little panic this morning. I was going through my wardrobe trying to figure out what I should be wearing at tomorrow's Charlotte Street Hotel showdown. Think the beard is looking okayish (not exactly right for my big arrival at the Corporation, but at least no cameras will be there tomorrow so I've still got time to cultivate it), but this unexpected London heatwave is causing havoc as I try and desperately figure out the right look.
You see, I really don't think that my only summer Paul Smith suit feels right anymore. Last time I wore that was at Mipcom in 06, and that was only down to Suzanne convincing me that the trademark grey t-shirt and black jacket wasn't going to wash with all those north American distributors. So we spent a frantic afternoon on High St Ken with just hours to spare before my Heathrow flight, finally settling on a rather cool, breezy blonde suit. I'd seen Lygo in one a few weeks earlier, and thought I just had to have it.
But it looks wrong now to me. I can't put my finger on it (which is unusual) but for whatever reason, I'm not happy with it. Certainly not to wear tomorrow on my first semi-official duty 'on the job'.
I might just give Michaela a quick buzz. She's execing a new Sky One fashion series right now and will definitely know where to send me to get the look I need for tomorrow. Plus she had dinner with Fifi just last week, so another chance to pick up some last minute goss.
No comments:
Post a Comment