Connolly Polo Shirt

This week, my plan had been to talk about something from Connolly I’ve owned for a while, then the sunshine intervened and next thing, I’m walking down Clifford Street, one of those white bags in my hand . . .

So, the other thing, that’ll have to wait. 

Sunshine and memory are potent.

Like everyone else I got the Call Me By your Name memo last summer, and in preparation for this year’s global warming sponsored heatwave, I’ve kept half an eye out for polo shirts, and before you ask, yes, I will play tennis in it, Monday’s and Wednesday’s, thank you.

I’d tried a few on but card remained in wallet. There was something else about this Connolly one though, it ticked the emotional box. All the best items of clothing are essentially emotional. This reminded me of a Made in Italy, ‘Mainline’ Paul Smith number I saved up for when I was 16. 

That particular one wasn’t just pink, nor was it very pink, it was a shade entitled ‘asking for trouble in south west Wales’.

Fine piqué, I thought I was a playboy. 

It was one of the first moments when I realised the true power of clothing. It elicited looks and comments.

This is the colour of frost kissed root vegetable soup, old BMWs, and well dead cool 70’s stuff. 

Long sleeved, single button cuff and collar. Whilst less controversial than the Pink Polo, it is a primal piece of clothing. 

Japanese mountaineer meets south of France racing driver with a backhand slice of Welsh tennis playing playboy.

To be worn with shorts and car shoes, car shoes and sweats, sweats and sneakers, sneakers and white jeans. Basically to be worn all spring and summer long, then stolen and paired with cashmere through autumn, by whoever is most important in your life.