And thus it became clear to me that summer had actually reared its head upon on the streets of West London. After a horrendously cold yet wonderfully colourful and beautifully attired winter I, Mr. Penrose, was ready to sartorially explode upon the unassuming mid-year calendar. With such a bursting wardrobe of finely crafted shirts, a dazzling assortment of pochettes, scarves and simply beautiful woven ties from the shores of Blighty and my good Italian friends the task in hand would prove a decision nightmare in the morning.
After much deliberation, hesitation and wild imaginative thoughts, I had finally reached the starting post… well, the top of the stairs before thinking to myself ‘one last adjustment in the grand mirror before I step into the great outdoors.
And lo, before me stood a testament to the glory days of July, an ode to a summer’s morn. How would the shoppers and hipsters of Soho react and indeed cope when they take a fleeting glance, a longing stare, at such a display of handcrafted wonder?
