Things got off to an epic start on Friday morning when we acquired our 100th "Likee" on the Earl of Bedlam Facebook page. Incentive was offered in the form of a prize, which did incite something of a limping rush, but the tortoise who hared across the line was Chris "Allways Diggin'" Archbold. He has been duly warned to temper his expectations regarding the reward - "the value of which will increase across the years if not immediately apparent upon receipt." We were grateful to note that he lives in Sydenham, not so far from us in London, which saves us postage.
Then I worried about acknowledging the far-flung Early Adopters - one doesn't wish to act like the mortgage lenders or broadband providers who give all the good deals to new customers. So I noted down every name of the Bedlam 100, such as future legend will hail as the stalwart Centurions who laid the foundations of our mailing list, and it is our true intention to cast a medal, at some point, when we have some tender-type metal, and see that each gets their due. It may turn into one of those "Ninety-eight year old veteran at last receives recognition" tear-jerkers, but I will get it done. (Just saying, it might take a while). (If anyone has a spare smelting pot and the know-how then drop us a line).
Saturday got off to a noisy start - the builders next door came in to work to bash at the non-stop-party wall some more. Luckily we had Taffy Centurion's offer to accompany him to an altogether better party on the Beaulieu estate in the New Forest. We packed the car and pootled off, managing to miss the motorway at every opportunity and travelling almost the entire way on A- and B-roads. When at last we crunched into the drive we found we were joining the birthday celebrations of Nick Ashley, scion of Laura, all round man of mettle, motorbikester and fashionisto. He designed menswear at Dunhill for a while, where, he told us, he was treated like James Bond. I imagine he stepped up to that role very well. Now he has his own line and is reassuringly uncompromising about getting the majority of it made in the UK:
http://www.nickashley.com/
When we got home we found an article Nick had written on buying the right leather jacket and let me assure you that it faithfully conveys his nifty wit and savoir-s'habillier:
http://www.finchsquarterly.com/features/skinning-up/
As introductions were made, Nick admired Mark's jacket which was a great way to start the evening seeing as it was one of Mark's self-made. What can I tell you that a picture cannot convey better? Here is how the night ended up:
Taffy too made a new friend, and they have been texting a lot since the weekend:
We had a scream and thanks are due to Ari and Nick's daughters too for making our noisy, drunken selves feel so welcome.
Sunday morning, we were up with the pheasants to slug back to London. We had to stop at a service station for a can of Red Bull and a piece of KFC each, so utterly hang dog were we. Still, we shambled in more or less upright to my mother's birthday lunch where one of my godmothers had made a surprise appearance. "And to what are you up?" she asked. In twenty words or less I attempted to summarize the canon of this blog. I have, I informed her in conclusion, decided to approach ten people and ask them for five thousand pounds each. Then if, God forbid, we go head over the handlebars, the only people to get badly mash up will be us. While my mother was distracted by her delight at the dusty rose marabou neck cushion we gave her, my godmother leant in and whispered "I'll write you a cheque". I was so tired and felt so fragile that it required the most enormous effort not to cry. And sure enough, at the day's close, we had our first solid investment.
So far this week we have applied for our VAT number, persuaded Colin Young that he does want to take on the burden of our multi-million pound potential turn over accounts, opened a business account, deposited the cheque, booked our flights to New York to see Mr Bell at Barneys and been up to Berwick Street to buy gorgeous fabric from the Cloth House - www.clothhouse.com - and trimmings from the Christmas grotto that is Klein's on Noel Street (greetings to Raymond): www.kleins.co.uk
In the link to Nick's article above is a posted comment about A2 jackets that lead to another find, the Good Wear leather company:
http://www.goodwearleather.com/pages/index.html
From their homepage comes this:
"In the 1940s, A-2s were mass produced in factories, going from one station to another (note how some jackets have several different colors of thread in the parts), which led to these jackets having an organic, imperfect look in the details, yet a classy overall character. That’s what we like."
Us too! Indeed, we would be more than satisfied to be described that way ourselves -
"Imperfect... yet a classy overall character."
Then I worried about acknowledging the far-flung Early Adopters - one doesn't wish to act like the mortgage lenders or broadband providers who give all the good deals to new customers. So I noted down every name of the Bedlam 100, such as future legend will hail as the stalwart Centurions who laid the foundations of our mailing list, and it is our true intention to cast a medal, at some point, when we have some tender-type metal, and see that each gets their due. It may turn into one of those "Ninety-eight year old veteran at last receives recognition" tear-jerkers, but I will get it done. (Just saying, it might take a while). (If anyone has a spare smelting pot and the know-how then drop us a line).
Saturday got off to a noisy start - the builders next door came in to work to bash at the non-stop-party wall some more. Luckily we had Taffy Centurion's offer to accompany him to an altogether better party on the Beaulieu estate in the New Forest. We packed the car and pootled off, managing to miss the motorway at every opportunity and travelling almost the entire way on A- and B-roads. When at last we crunched into the drive we found we were joining the birthday celebrations of Nick Ashley, scion of Laura, all round man of mettle, motorbikester and fashionisto. He designed menswear at Dunhill for a while, where, he told us, he was treated like James Bond. I imagine he stepped up to that role very well. Now he has his own line and is reassuringly uncompromising about getting the majority of it made in the UK:
http://www.nickashley.com/
When we got home we found an article Nick had written on buying the right leather jacket and let me assure you that it faithfully conveys his nifty wit and savoir-s'habillier:
http://www.finchsquarterly.com/features/skinning-up/
As introductions were made, Nick admired Mark's jacket which was a great way to start the evening seeing as it was one of Mark's self-made. What can I tell you that a picture cannot convey better? Here is how the night ended up:
 |
| The Earl duets with Nick Ashley. Think this was "My Generation"?? Earlier, they scared the horses with "Should I stay or should I go?" Nick was asked to join the Clash as drummer but told Strummer he was a bit busy studying at St. Martin's. And good call too. Who wants to be a drummer when you can be Lead Designer?! |
Taffy too made a new friend, and they have been texting a lot since the weekend:
We had a scream and thanks are due to Ari and Nick's daughters too for making our noisy, drunken selves feel so welcome.
Sunday morning, we were up with the pheasants to slug back to London. We had to stop at a service station for a can of Red Bull and a piece of KFC each, so utterly hang dog were we. Still, we shambled in more or less upright to my mother's birthday lunch where one of my godmothers had made a surprise appearance. "And to what are you up?" she asked. In twenty words or less I attempted to summarize the canon of this blog. I have, I informed her in conclusion, decided to approach ten people and ask them for five thousand pounds each. Then if, God forbid, we go head over the handlebars, the only people to get badly mash up will be us. While my mother was distracted by her delight at the dusty rose marabou neck cushion we gave her, my godmother leant in and whispered "I'll write you a cheque". I was so tired and felt so fragile that it required the most enormous effort not to cry. And sure enough, at the day's close, we had our first solid investment.
So far this week we have applied for our VAT number, persuaded Colin Young that he does want to take on the burden of our multi-million pound potential turn over accounts, opened a business account, deposited the cheque, booked our flights to New York to see Mr Bell at Barneys and been up to Berwick Street to buy gorgeous fabric from the Cloth House - www.clothhouse.com - and trimmings from the Christmas grotto that is Klein's on Noel Street (greetings to Raymond): www.kleins.co.uk
 |
| The Cloth House on Berwick Street, and below. |
 |
| Kleins on Noel Street, Soho |
http://www.goodwearleather.com/pages/index.html
From their homepage comes this:
"In the 1940s, A-2s were mass produced in factories, going from one station to another (note how some jackets have several different colors of thread in the parts), which led to these jackets having an organic, imperfect look in the details, yet a classy overall character. That’s what we like."
Us too! Indeed, we would be more than satisfied to be described that way ourselves -
"Imperfect... yet a classy overall character."
And I guess that's what makes it emotional when someone fills in a cheque and hands it to you - it is proof on paper that while you may be imperfectly in need, someone thinks you are a Good Bet; that you possess the integrity to caretake their money - even give them it back and then some - yet have enough character to use it boldly.
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