A cheery start to day three arrived in the form of Pringle of Scotland’s hilarious animated film by David Shrigley, about the production of wool and knitwear. It had the fashos’ rolling in the isles. (Or should it be runways?).  Anyway, it was good. So was the show thank God, as am pals with creative director Clare Waight Keller. She kept the collection almost entirely within tones of grey. Her march of gothic cable knits and medieval armoured inside-outer-wear cut an ominous swath. This will be favoured by the anointed tastemakers who love a bit of Bauhaus (group not movement). A narrow elegant overcoat appeared in faintly metallic Donegal and an evening jacket with a hopsack made an appearance. Sophisticated colour balance and deft fabrication gave the collection international clout. A far cry from pre-CWK runway efforts half a decade ago, that were more reminiscent of the cartoon characters in the film. I interviewed her and she was bright and sparkling despite no sleep.

Pringle

Next the elevated experience of an appointment at the house of Ford. No photos or film allowed due to Tom’s desire for the collection to exist in as a non-fashion-seasonally-changing manifestation. Rather a collection that evolves slowly and retains many of its characteristics. Pure sense and something I am wholeheartedly in agreement with. Ford’s signature shoulder line, luxury fabrics and rarefied approach to all aspects of a man’s wardrobe is unlike almost any other. It’s totally lux and it works. Its lux turned up to 11. I’m particularly keen on the shirts that come with a tie bar. Those plus the shoulder-line, are more than a little bit Edward Sexton/Tommy Nutter, The Godfathers of imposing grace and timeless suave. 

Tom’s old gaff Gucci followed, with a bevy of neat sculpted camel suit and coats, teamed well with navy and chocolate roll necks. A look I favour on a very personal level. There were Gabicci-esque suede and knit cardies, narrow stone pants and there were plenty of snaffle loafers. A penchant I share with my farfetch.com commissioner Paul Brine, ever since we spunked our student poverty loans on them back in 1989. I’m having a large snaffle carved as my gravestone, possibly with the blue and red webbing too. Gucci was good, I don’t care what the detractors say about it looking like Topman. They only say that ‘cause they’re too fat to wear it. 

Gucci

Versace loves a celeb. Their front row was graced by three of Internazionale’s footballers. I sneakily filmed them and got screw face from Mario Balotelli for my trouble. His pals Francesco Toldo and Ali Sulley Muntari didn’t catch me. I asked my Inter mad driver Federico his thoughts on the boys. Also on Versace, which he described with reluctance as a ‘good Italian brand’. He didn’t mean it, although he is right. If you want flash cocktail suits to posture about in a surly manner, then Versace often do them. I’ts best if you are a serious A star wearing one, granted, but this is where to go. The slick leather body conscious stuff is for even fewer people.

Versace

Now I have knocked Moncler a bit of late, mainly that wet look nonsense so many pilllocks choose to wear. The Gamme Blue collection with Thom Browne, New York’s own manufacturer of tiny suits and part time Twiddle Dum impersonator, is also a cause for concern. I think they’re devaluing a decent sports heritage brand. They did put on a show tonight. A whole barracks of young cadets slept in military symmetry in camp beds, until the show began. Commandant type figures in Thom Browne trimmed regalia trouped in and played Reveille - the wake up bugle call. They jumped up and donned daft ski/snow board gear designed by old shrinky dink. There were actually some good pieces, but the whole affair had something of the Hitler Youth about it with the Austrian Boy Scout uniformed men inspecting each outfit before it did its lap of honour.

From the sleep deprived to the dormitory of Thom Browne bizarre ski academy in one day. I’m sleep deprived too. I can’t even face going out again after all this blogging.

Moncler