Harping back to the old days

The effortless style of Mr Frank Sinatra, the grace and authority of Prime Minister Winston Churchill, or the notoriety of the Kray twins. Why is it that as a nation we have rejected the suit from everyday life? We smirk at the City Boys, we demonise the politicians, we feel sympathy for the grey bank workers.

However, I love the three piece suit. I love slanted hats, I love pins in ties, pocket watches in waistcoats, newly shined brogues and argyle socks. I love the gentleman.

However, as generations pass, I am worried that the gentleman is a dying breed. In fifty years time will men put on a suit to buy milk from the corner shop? Or will they pull on a pair of tracky bottoms and a kappa t-shirt? Yes, standards have dropped and they will carry on doing so.

I love harping back to the good old days, I love watching films from the 40s, 50s and 60s. Men were smart, men were refined. Now we are a bunch of baggy jeaned, baseball capped, conversed scruffs. Even the young mods donned suits to beat the shit out of rockers on Brighton beach. The gangsters of London ran the streets with style, ties at the correct length and pressed white shirts. Not the happy slapping neanderthals of 2010.

I for one long for those days to emerge from the flames. Proud Second World War veterans must

look at us with shame. With medals shining on their suit pockets, handkerchiefs perfectly aligned and trousers sitting at the correct length, they represent all that is wonderful about Great Britain.

So when that lottery money rolls in, I'm off to Saville Row. I'm off to an era where the gentleman ruled. Where doors were opened, cheques picked up and manners were free.

Spare change guv'ner?

How old is too old to wear skinny jeans?

So, now I'm 27 years old and starting to gain a slight beer gut, can I still wear skinny jeans? It's that age old question that has risen from the dawn of rock and roll.

I'm not Mick Jagger, and I'll never be Iggy Pop, but is pouring myself into my girlfriend's figure hugging denim so wrong? I think I may have to start re-thinking my style.

It's the indie kids staple leg wear. We've all been to the Good Mixer on a Friday night sipping on our jack and coke, pretending to be the next big thing. We've sat at the Hawley Arms bar just hoping to see Miss Winehouse stumble through with a needle hanging out of her arm. But I'm not 18 anymore. My legs aren't as sculptured as they used to be, and my six pack is more like a crate. So when do we stop? Or do we have to stop?

Over the next few weeks I'm going to photograph the young and old, the fat and the thin, the indie and the ghetto, to see if they can pull off the style that hasn't faltered since the days of the Ramones, the skinny jean.

When I got run over by that lorry in September of 2009, I was forced to give up the skinny jean for nearly 9 months. Was there someone up there trying to tell me to put the tight trousers down? to switch to a straight leg? or god forbid, a baggy cut?

Hopefully I'll find the answer to this century old question on the streets of London, but until then, I'll keep growing my hair and wearing my skinnies until the dirty thirties creep up on me.

Spare change guv'ner?