Report by Mr Caryn Franklin

You all know that defining what we want our clothes to say to the viewer  is the key to a good look. I didn’t always know this. When I first met my wife I would blithely arrive for a date in what I took to be splendid apparel. “But what” she would bark, “is the story?”

This month and this week in particular are traditionally bloody in our household. The Head of Operations is out at shows all the time, and this year we’ve taken steps, or rather she has, to ensure the children still recognise us come October. I’m home alone.  

Since Thursday I have stepped into my gentleman’s dressing area looking to construct a new capsule collection entitled StayatHome: A Mere Man Multitasking. 

William Morris maintained that an object that is fit for task is inherently beautiful. My primary look is functional but still, I think stylish. A Pair of graphite Edwin jeans, a Penguin polo shirt and old school Onitsuka Tigers look good in the bedroom mirror during duvet-arranging, and reflected in the cooker door while dishwasher emptying. Accessorised with Marigolds and a nose peg the story is still on-message for scrubbing the downstairs toilet.

Eventually, of course, one has to venture outside and let the critics read the story.  Walking the kids to school and putting out the recycling is multitasking after all. Here’s what I suggest for readers who want to say Sensitive and Caring but also Edgy Metrosexual. 

This year, menswear is about sustainability, credibility, and in uncertain times, the purchase of key items that will be heirlooms, not landfill. To this end, I am swathing my torso in tweed, and not just any tweed, but the Harris variety. The weavers of the Outer Hebrides are moving into a new era, and have recently teamed up with Scottish Designer of the Year Deryck Walker. I am wearing one of his new-look designs, a subtle herringbone in navy and amber pure new wool. It’s actually a suit, but a story involving so much zig and zag in both coat and keks might, I think, be a trifle sudden before nightfall. I am therefore teaming the coat with bespoke putty-coloured courduroy trousering created for me by my friend, the Godfather of new British tailoring, John Pearse.  JP dresses the famous and infamous and assured me that my dream of pants so high that he would take a chest rather than a waist measurement was both dignified and dashing.

On the accessory front I am currently finishing the StayatHome narrative with my favourite last sentence, an Hermes scarf in white and gold. Casually knotted about the throat – I stop short of using a signet ring as a woggle – this devasting piece gives my Fall collection European élan. A squirt of L’Instant by Guerlain, and I am confident that when the call comes – to pick up my fashionista from Somerset House, I can mix it with all the other queens and still look very now.

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