Paul Smith was one of the first designers I ever harbored a liking for; I remember saving up for his floral-print shirts in psychedelic colors back in my early college days. And though my taste for color vacillates between austere and harlequin through the years, the fact that I keep coming back to Paul Smith's pieces proves that kook and whimsy never go out of style.
I stepped into the Paul Smith flagship store in London last summer, and couldn't help but step out with a memento of my visit:
Paul Smith portfolio depicting a Mini Cooper decked out in the brand's signature stripes, hanging high from a crane
One thing I love about Paul Smith pieces is that he always brings that something extra, oftentimes unseen.
I was delighted to find that the bag was lined in a kingly shade of purple.
I (cumbersomely) carried it around the shows at the last Fashion Week in New York:
Here I am with a bunch of fashion folk I don't really know. Worn with +J coat, shirt of my design, April 77 jeans, ASOS shoes. (photo via click/clash)
Nothing says fashion journalist as much as the act of carrying around a stylish bag, overstuffed and handle-less, to reinforce the thesis that beauty of the impractical nature is most aspirational.