Chambray.

Two recent acquisitions from over the water, a pair of 1960's US made chambray work shirts, now I'm sure I'm going a bit tapped here as I must have more than ten variations on this same shirt, but it's always nice to find a more original version and it is a classic. Both unworn since the sixties, the first one still has the store hang tag and the collar was still pinned. The second one is finished with a selvage detail running throughout on both sides, real nice quality.

He's gotta have it.

Here's an interesting article from today's Telegraph Saturday supplement. Old friend of Oneupmanship~ and fellow jacket obsessive Oliver Beer (not his real name) features, as does Albam's James Shaw, amongst others. Centred around the crazy nature of the 'fashion' obsessive this goes some way to explaining why grown men can sometimes fuss over the silliest things, and justify pending most of their earnings on an old coat, many will never understand that, but we all have our vices, be it train sets, watches or jackets with goggles in the hood.
The images should be massive so you can read them, but I've just realised it's online now anyway, so that might save you squinting like a pre-pubescent tugger. I first featured Oliver Beer on my site many moons ago and having met him a few times, he's an all round good egg, I've seen a lot of the stuff in his personal collection in the flesh, including the one he wants to be cremated in.
Oliver Beer's collection.
Telegraph.

Gorilla.

Well happy with these for thirty bins, Gorilla boots, a touch as they say. Bit of a cult over the Atlantic, I could harp on about factories, industries, made in the US and a resurgence in trend and all that malarkey, but I just like 'em, they're 'Brutally Strong', or we'll soon see. Hope that sunshine we're having fuck's off and hides for a bit now too, though.

MHL.

Recently got this Margaret Howell walkers jacket off a friend of mine, from a few seasons back, but a slightly tweaked version is in the current S/S collection, a nice quality weatherproof jacket in buff, or beige to you and I, a good all year rounder. Also picked up a bucket hat too, which I've had before, it's as light as a feather, a Maggie H double bill.

Pica Post.

This is cool, a new publication from the folks at Oi Polloi. Pica-Post is a new, twice yearly fanzine style mag showcasing the seasons best clothing and footwear from OiPolloi's perspective.

OiPolloi favourites such as Woolrich Woolen Mills, Nigel Cabourn and Yuketen all feature in issue #1, alongside relative new additions like Double RL and Burkman Bros. All illustrated in fine style by talented graphic artist Ben Lamb. There's only 1000 printed.

Click here to read it.

Top coat cold.

I've been doing a lot of walking lately, my feet are still aching a bit now actually, I think it's subconciously wanting to shed myself of this, erm, 'winter coat', plus it's a lovely time of the year right now, sunny, but cold, probably the best time of the year for me - a challenge to get all layered up, wear a funny hat and muddy one's shoes in some localish not so far flung backwater. Heading out on a daft little adventure with no map and a vague memory of what I'd Googled the night before fading with every footstep, whilst getting slowly sozzled, sounds like a plan to me, I wouldn't have it any other way. Two or three weeks ago it was a jaunt into the Derbyshire hills, up to Buxton.
The highest market town in the country fact fans, the locals say it's 'top coat colder', I don't fully follow but I must say I agree, it was fucking freezing, I could have sneaked at least vest in easy, or a big wooly jumper. Buxton is famous for one thing, that's right; Tim Brooke-Taylor, only joking, it's famous for water, not just any water, it's world famous bottled spring water, so nice even Mr President himself drinks it. Buxton's one of them spa towns, you can actually get the spring water at St Ann's well in the centre, a constant free supply, naturally I cupped my hands and had a slurp, for such a cold day it was as warm as dog piss.
As Cheshire meets Derbyshire in the west and Staffordshire in the south, a good explantation for the local twang, a funny mix which makes the locals sound rather well spoken in my experience, even when they are starting on you with added expletives. Buxton is referred to as 'the gateway to the Peak District', trains terminate here, it's twinned with Oignies in France and Bad Nauheim in Germany. there's an array of pubs and outdoor shops. It was popular amongst hikers and weird beardy men who walk and drink, but not at the same time.


Buxton's famous spring water, free on tap in the town centre, 3/5.



Buxton has Saint George in it's heart, and on the roof, which keeps it English.

I'm pretty certain these exact same crocuses were here last year.

With the Opera House, Wells, Pavilion Gardens, Corbar Hill, the Dome, and the Crescent, Buxton has plenty of focal points, I used to come here as a boy and remember a massive park with a miniature Railway, also the Natural Mineral Baths, originally Roman baths opened in 1854, we used to go to Buxton Baths as kids. I think it had a slide, like Romiley, which in the early eighties was quite the attraction.

Look at that, and the one above, and tell me, what is more inviting after a brisk day's walk?

Altogther now, 'You do the hokey cokey and you turn around...'

After a scout of the local sights and sounds, we visited several of the local hostelries, or pubs, sampled a few of the ales, quite a few actually, so eventually jumped on a city bound train home, probably the last one, it was full of young, trendy folk, that's being kind, it was full of funboy village idiots actually impressing woodstained looking Doris's with hilarious Subway related quips about their footlong dicks, heading into the unknown, or Manchester, what to me, in my slightly older than them, years, seemed dead late. I'm getting old, maybe that's why I was rambling in the High Peak and I'm fucking rambling right now, New Mills and a funny bridge up next...

Getting Shirty again.

New shirtings, or shirts to give them their proper name. Something old, something new, nowt borrowed but something blue too. Sorry I sound like Peter fucking Kay. I recently got hold of this Folk shirt, the Raglan with tape, to give it it's full name, how many chambray/oxford's does a man need? I'm not sure, but this is a lovely shirt, loads of details, a nice little collar detail not unlike a chinstrap, curved placket, button off tabs for rolling the sleeves up, and raglan style cut with zig zag stitching for a comfy fit, it's a rather splendid shirt.

A Ralph Lauren floral print shirt, which looks like thistles, so not that lavender, some of the coolest labels are doing these at the minute, peeking through under a jumper, cool as in my opinion, this too has the nice chinstrap detail and an odd mismatched workwear style placket.

Finishing up with a bit of Lou Reed from Pendleton I've been looking on and off, for years, for a proper tweed shirt, a real heavyweight herringbone tweed with colourful flashes darting through, it's so rugged it smells like times gone by/a wet dog, I love it.

Essential Killing.

This looks like it might be worth a watch, a Polish made film with an American being all Taliban. Vincent Gallo (Buffalo 66, Tetro) is usually good value for money, this, from Director Jerzy Skolimowski, has a terrific, simple plot. Gallo plays Mohammed, an alleged terrorist suspect, captured by the US military in Afghanistan and transported to a secret detention centre in eastern Europe in a vehicle that crashes. He escapes and tries to survive in an alien environment – snowy, mountainous woodland and freezing temperatures. Played out wordlessly and intensely. The film strays into genre territory, while maintaining extraordinary suspense that only dissipates near its end.