What if you eschew chewing the fat about crass commercialism or chaotic consumerism and you would rather start a thread about the quality of your threads? In protest you take to the streets from where street style wells up like a series of hubble-bubble springs, sported by purposeful people wearing true togs with a certain swank, walking the pavements of old London town for all they are worth. A neat beat from the street which makes a swinging statement: “Feel free to look at me, but don’t stare too long, just a glimpse as we pass each other on the way to somewhere different. Compliment me if you wish, stop me if you dare!”
My lifestyle is not the clothes I wear, the perfume I use, the jewellery which adorns me, the car that I drive, the places I frequent or the people I know. My brand is my own. If you are blessed with buckets of boldness and have defined your rogue vogue mode, you are a unique label. Wearing uniforms is for the armed forces: my rank is recognised from my appearance; my strength is known by my demeanour. Be yourself and be an Irregular. Gyrate in your own gear, be fragranced as you fancy, bedeck your neck with whatever suits you, drive yourself by your desires, loiter in luxurious locations, mix with people who make it count. Be discerning.
Announcing the arrival of the Geovictwardians: intelligent; elegant; and able. An eclectic anthology of stimulating styles intended to stir, they are raiders of the past, for the future has not yet happened – it is yours to create. No mere mannequins (for clothes horses are for drying wet clothes) Geovictwardians are clad in crypto-costumes of the counter-culture, dressed to thrill, robed to rouse, draped to derange, attired to animate. It turns out that the baby was not thrown out with the bath water. Act now!
A young man was at a famous military college, training to be an officer.