Growing up, I think it’s safe to say that it wasn’t my father that got me interested in fashion. Monday to Friday he wore suits for work, always dark grey, always with a light coloured shirt, and always with a dark coloured tie. At the weekend you could normally find him in jeans and a rugby jersey at home, or alternatively, a polo shirt with chinos if he was going to the golf course. I really don’t recall him wearing anything else. And shopping trips were military-like operations. Twice a year he would go to the high street the very minute the shops opened, buy everything he needed for the next six months and be home again within the hour.
So it was a great surprise when, in my early twenties, I found this red velvet jacket in a pile of clothes he was throwing out. As a teenager I had never considered that he hadn’t always been the same way. I looked back through old photographs of him I saw plenty of things I would have worn myself, there was a leather jacket I would have killed for. Unfortunately it was all lost with the exception of this jacket, which is why it is one of the most treasured pieces in my wardrobe. What’s more, it fits me perfectly. I don’t think my father wore it often and neither do I, but with velvet jackets back on the runway it feels like the right time to wear it out again.