The Schott Perfecto 618 leather biker jacket worn by rebellious Marlon in The Wild One only remained a few days in my possession before I returned it to the shop.
I told you about the jacket in my last post and, although I’m not one to bow to convention, it’s just been too many years and wearing it made me feel like ye olde mutton. Even worse than a man of my age wearing a hoody. Obviously, I’ve finally found my threshold for embarrassment and my brief foray into sartorial nostalgia is over.
I blame drab, grey England; you don’t see older blokes agonising over fashion dilemmas like this in other countries. It wasn’t always like this here. What happened to the flamboyant sixties and seventies? What happened to Mr. Benn?