02 October 2009
Hackett. As I wrote here last year, I have been wearing Hackett since the 1980s. I support the brand. Why? Let me explain. To begin with, I simply like the clothing. It's classic and well-made. For a RTW brand, you could do a lot worse.
Plus, it represents a link to my youth, a reminder of Saturday afternoons sauntering down the King's Road in moleskin trousers, chelsea boots, Barbour jacket, Hackett shirt, and a pair of colourful Hackett socks. Ah, the socks! I am certain the selections of bright and cheery hosiery are placed near the inside entrance of Hackett stores to draw in passersby. If you walk by a Hackett store, you will know what I mean.
Finally, there is Jeremy Hackett. I have written elsewhere of my admiration. (This is not a man-crush, so please do not be alarmed). Mr. Hackett, I will argue, embodies a particularly confident English style. There is no need here to be loud and brash, to draw unwanted attention to oneself. Quietly comfortable in his own moleskin, he knows who and what he is and what he has accomplished. He possesses a degree of self-assurance, I think, that is exceedingly rare. If I were to choose a living sartorial inspiration, it would be Mr. Hackett.
To Hackett, I raise another glass of champagne.