‘21 and Gilet

Hindsight’s beauty is to make experts of us all. 

We wallow and revel in “I knew it” or “told ya so”, when none of us, had a clue.

A year ago as this ‘thing’ was happening elsewhere, I published my take on the year and decade ahead. A call to arms, hopeful and excited about the future.

One year later and little wiser, I won’t bore with what went before, we’ve all got the t-shirt.

But as someone keeps telling me, a quote is different from an estimate. 

So even as Lockdown repeats, like unwisely eaten late night food. I’m optimistic. 

Flick of a switch, December gone, and the light changes, fleeting, but golden. Branches bathed, and beneath small shoots poke out. 

This is the time of simple pleasures, small mercies, after a year where we treasured those most of all. 

& this website, whilst about clothes, people, places, and product, is really about material and ethereal treasure.

Which is why I’m hopeful.

In the late 00’s I opened a shop, which sold young British brands, in a tiny Welsh town. 

An early 18th century building with the walls to match. 

Racing to open and doing everything myself, the radio next to me was metronomic, each half hour a reminder that the banks were collapsing, a crisis of credit, and imminent recession were headed our way.

The brands I sold pretty much all started with me. They were all filled with immense talent and solid work ethic, I felt proud - albeit amazed – that for nearly all of them my little shop was their first stockist. This plus the fact I had not a penny to my name and was in too deep meant I had no option but to succeed.

First morning, I went to open up and someone had been sick in the doorway. 

I’d come from the world of big boy, big brand, big city retail, so I’d seen it all. Doorway cleaned, I opened and awaited the soon to come rush. 

That wait?  Bit longer than expected, the first month and year, were beans on toast. 

3am eternal, staring at the ceiling, unquestioning in my belief, but questioning what I had to do. Treacly days, little bits here and there, moments of hope which aided that belief.

It felt like a time for doing, for making the world anew and with time, those little bits of hope, grew in frequency, then became big and life changing bits. 

There are easier ways to make a living and no quicker way to make a small fortune, just have to start with a large one.

But, it’s living. It’s some life, I’ve been so lucky. 

So last year whilst a kick in the gut, reminded me of those years working out how to do something, how to get to where I wanted to be, or even if I could do it again? 

The recession changed things, made the industry better, again we had no option. 

As cognisant consumers and retailers, we wanted comfort and more, the embrace of the traditional with the shock of the new. Progressive ideas emerged and the brands I sold with their un-fakeable talent creating ideas and objects of wonder came to the fore with their ability to make something simple and great, no nonsense. 

A move towards investment pieces, the often mocked and lazily titled heritage clothing, or as I saw it, stuff to wear when you were doing stuff. 

The problem was, a lot of it, you’d have struggled to cross the road in, weighed down by the contents of your hand crafted, single origin, moustache wax pocket, much of it helped speed up the arrival of the peacock movement, one which quickly lost the pea and dropped into parody. 

But, the good stuff, was great, not just design but because people started to care about where things were made, who made them and whether someone had a bad time because of your buying habits. 

Then the rapid growth of personal digital communication, blogs, social, websites, a brief moment with a million ways to express an opinion without fear, to discuss what we loved and to shine a light upon the stuff that was perhaps ignored. A renaissance. 

And then we forgot it. 

Fast forward a few years, we’ve all seen the documentaries, and still, as a nation can’t leave our two dresses for 50p habit behind. Landfill mountains of polyester and loathing. 

To sell this, we create heroes because we can, because it sells things, but they do nothing. Famous because they’re well, famous.

For the rest of us, that communication vehicle has become about collected likes, not expressing the self.  

A brilliant designer friend of mine, one who has worked their fingers to the bone and beyond, asked me recently whether they ought to just give up and rather than focus on the clothes, just have photos taken of them and post on repeat. 

I mean, it works, it’s the fast track road to expertise. Shout it loud enough and often enough and you too will be a world renowned expert. 

So hello, my name is Daniel and I’m an expert, at what who cares, but this is what I know…

Mid point last year, I’d had enough, I was bored, having one of those moments, life wasted, what is the point, just want to walk the dog and… well that’s the thing, this is what I know, working, hustling, building new things, this is my world and brief diva moment’s aside, the pandemic hastened depressing state of industry, caused me to stop and realise that my optimism last January, wasn’t misplaced, it just needed to be directed properly. 

Through considerable collective global hurt, we are offered a chance to rethink, to look at our direction of travel as the individuals who make organisations, industries and countries what they are. 

There will be no better time than this, for doing that, the age of can do, is now more must do, this time, we really we have no other option. 

The year of the actual glow up, 

The narcissistic nonsense (I know ironic) will fade and a new renaissance, but this one won’t be brief, because the hurt and pain was greater, and things have changed, we feel differently, we all miss the before, but we know the next must be better, filled not with brief moments but with a kindness which is lit match quick and everlasting. 

So, what’s this got to do with gilets? 

In this new purposeful age, we are at present at home, partly in sportswear, then partly out doing things carefully. 

In time, we will be out more, doing more, seeing more, feeling more, being more. For that we will need to be practical, and well, beauty in all its forms makes things better.

The Connolly gilet is perfect for the now and the eventual, our next age of wonder.  

I’m writing and wearing one now over a Camber hoodie, I wore another one first thing this morning making coffee and watching my neighbours’ house being rethatched, worn out sheaves tossed down and balletic, golden new ones up, the embrace of tradition with the colourful shock of the new. Once I finish writing, I’ll change, jeans, boots, Shetland jumper and my third gilet to head off on a walk. 

Yup, I’ve got three. A navy 2 way zipped one bought the week 4 Clifford Street opened; a green popper version; and now another 2 way zip, the colour of your latest natural wine drop, biodynamic purple, with organic red and hints of sulphite free berries. 

Thankfully neither Schoffel showboat nor hedge fund haute. Instead, warm, elegant, and functional. Worn over and under things. Water resistant wool for when I walk in the rain for football chat with Alison in the village shop. Tough enough not to worry about wearing when doing stuff, happy hopping over fences laughing at barbed wire, content with me carrying logs and a quick brush down after. Made in the UK, to make me smile, and well, it is good for the economy. Pockets which refuse to lose things, but not too many pockets. As much a part of my daily essential work kit as my camera, carrying spare battery, spare memory card, keys, phone, or just warming my hands.  

In short one of those simple and great no nonsense things which we devoured last time. It is intelligent, and understated clothing which understands that the wearer is more than the sum of their outfit, but that good clothes help brighten your mood and we all need a bit of that. 

Before I spoke of my shop, getting things going, what I didn’t mention was I lived above the shop, the store became my life, my life, the store. 

An extension of me, I knew intimately what was going on, even when our ecommerce took off, everything went through me.

I don’t just believe, I know great businesses, those businesses which we must protect and cherish even more in years to come, are those that are in touch with their customer. Those that start independent, with clarity and purity of intention, and as they grow retain that. Those that have owners who know what is selling, who is buying and what could be better. I’m not professing to be great, but as I’ve explained at length here Connolly is, and well the boss lives upstairs.