We're back with the fine (if possibly discontinued) Six Eight Seven Six label again today. Short sleeved, with a weird kind of "pen holder" extension flap attached to the breast pocket. That's the kind of innovative design feature which we pay good money for.

You might have seen this shirt before somewhere. In Saigon, to be exact. Eyes to the top right...

Why do I always get excited collywobbles in my stomach on Friday afternoons, whenever a Big London Weekend is imminent? It's just a big city, for Pete's sake.

Much as I might affect to be Michael International, I think this clearly marks me as Michael Provinicial instead. Although in a couple of hours, I will in fact be Michael InterCity.

Expect a noticeable swelling of my "We know" section on Monday morning.

Via Junio, here's a beguiling distraction for the end of the working week.

Stereotypes lets you create your own portrait photos, by matching top halves and bottom halves from a selection of faces. Which doesn't sound all that interesting - except that the source material for this is exceptionally fine and well-matched. Some of the combinations that you can come up with are just...eerie.

This probably works particularly well if you are in a state of questionable herbal refreshment (although this is, of course, pure conjecture on my part...)

Due to continuing difficulties with its ISP, Naked Blog (one of my spiritual bedfellows, remember?) has taken up emergency temporary residence at http://nakedblog.blogspot.com/.

And most importantly of all (for the small bunch of us who check in there most weekday mornings), its Tag Board (where everybody knows your name) is still up and running.

Limeys own brand, in a sort of pale mauve and pale blue check. A big favourite when it was first purchased 18 months ago, but it hasn't stood up particularly well to repeated washes. Although it still looks perfectly acceptable to the casual observer, it has definitely lost a certain je ne sais quoi down the line.

The moral? More expensive shirts tend to be worth it in the end, because they last longer. Unless they're a) Ben Shermans (cheap and everlasting) or b) Prada (expensive but crap quality, made for the sort of people who would never dream of wearing them again after the first wash).

As inspired by this posting and the comments which followed it.


Derek "Mr. Derek" Fowlds.
(click for full size)


Dana "Weren't Born A Man" Gillespie.


Paula "Man About The House" Wilcox.
(click for full size)


Cliff "so help me God" Richard.

Both of the concerts I have been to in the last two nights (Kevin Ayers in Sheffield, and Alicia Keys in Nottingham) have been reviewed in the local press - thereby saving me the effort of writing my own reviews (I'm having something of a torpid week, creatively speaking).

I find myself in absolute, total, fist-thumping-on-table, yes-yes-yes! agreement with the Nottingham Evening Post's assessment of Alicia Keys' spirited yet lacklustre performance last night. Less showmanship and more soul in future, please. I only wish I'd seen her at an earlier stage in her career, before the stadium-filling crossover pop success, when I suspect that her truer, more subtle, more intimate talent would still have been in evidence. And I'd like to see her in maybe twenty years' time, once the hysteria has died down, in some future incarnation as a mature soul diva. But for now, it feels as if her "people" have shoehorned her into the wrong box (if you'll forgive the clumsy metaphor).

The Sheffield Star's review of Kevin Ayers at the Boardwalk has not been published online, so here's a transcript. I have my sources. Well, the reviewer is a mate of mine and we watched the show together.

Again, I agree with every word. Hell, I even recognise a couple of them!It only remains for me to add a set list, simply as a service to any stray Kevin Ayers fans who might eventually Google on in here. This isn't in the order they were played on the night - my memory isn't good enough for that - and it excludes two or three newer songs which I hadn't heard before.

At some point around the beginning of this year, mobile phone ownership in this country reached some sort of critical mass, meaning that cantankerous buggers like me who still didn't own one could now expect to be openly, and sometimes vehemently, criticised for our unco-operative attitude. (I'll never get the hang of short sentences.)

Very well then. Have it your own way. I can be a pariah no longer.

Currently charging up on my desk and eagerly awaiting its first use (I've watched too many of those adverts and I've started to anthropomorphise) - a diddy little Nokia 6510 ("the mobile phone which fits in and stands out") in a nice muted beige. Are they cool? I really have no aesthetic for these things.

I do like something which stands out and fits in, though.

Sorry. Couldn't resist. It's part of my genetic make-up to sift for smut wherever I go.

The phone set came free, as part of a package called O2 Leisure Time, which looks, um, Compatible With My Lifestyle. Oh God, they probably saw me coming. Please don't tell me I've been ripped.

I hate the bloody phone, I do. No, I really do hate it. But with a busy weekend in London coming up, I have to admit that my dinky little beige Nokia 6510 is going to make things a whole lot easier.

Bah. I guess the bastards got me in the end.

The label (as printed on the pocket) says Six Eight Seven Six, and the colour is perhaps best described as "dusty plum". I went through a phase of being quite fond of Six Eight Seven Six clothing, but the current state of their website suggests to me that the line may now have been discontinued. Also, Louis Boston has stopped stocking them on their ground floor - a certain sign of Fashion Death.

"A Reader", would you now step forward please.

You're a bit of an enigma, aren't you? We've never quite worked out who you are, have we? Well, we shall wonder no longer. "A Reader", you are now...Off The Project. Goodbye.

I'm sorry, but today's Doonesbury cartoon has just gone too far. The idea that you could develop a crush on someone, just because of their weblog? Preposterous. Quite preposterous. ;-)

Oh, how marvellous! The GBlogs "recently updated" list is now back, under the auspices of Linkmachinego. A grateful nation rejoices.

(Note: none of the following will make much sense unless you've first read today's other postings.)

I am happy to report that, in the event, the warm-up exercise worked rather well. In fact, I rather fancy that I gave a more or less convincing impression of a reasonably sensible, intelligent and articulate human being. Give or take the odd linguistic stumbling, that is. And the shaky hands, of course. But on balance, I think I fooled them.

My dining companions at Harts Resturant, Stuart Hydragenic (nice Paul Smith shirt with short sleeves and green-ish checks) and Mrs Ms. Hg (nice black top with a kind of horizontal ribbing detail) were, as expected, delightful company - and no, we didn't talk about pulling techniques or telly programmes at all - and yes, my nice beige Hugo shirt remained entirely unsplashed throughout. Result!

It's a Happy Hangover after all. Which is as it should be, as yesterday's Cliff Richard Max Bygraves David Bowie Adam Ant Elvis Kevin Ayers gig was an entirely happy - nay, joyful and exultant - experience. Of which more later.

Stirred into my simmering emotional stew is also a certain amount of nervous anticipation, as I'll be meeting another blogger (and his missus) for the first time in just over half an hour. And I've just remembered that I have absolutely no idea what he looks like.

Essentially, I'm in that sort of rambling, free-associating, slightly fractured mood which is typical of hangovers. Which could make for interesting conversation over the lunch table. So I've decided to use Troubled Diva for a sort of pre-match warming-up exercise. Basically, I'm just going to ramble on for the next half hour or so, appending to this post in stages by pressing "Post & Publish" every few minutes or so. Stay with me. Let's see where we end up, shall we?

OK, so let's imagine that you're sitting opposite me at the lunch table. Time for an opening conversational gambit. What shall it be?

Pulling, then. Pulling blokes for sex, that it. Because I've just been reading Alan talking about differing levels of pulling success, over at Oddverse. I agree with his central thesis. If you've come out intending to pull (bed made, contact lens case in pocket), and you're standing there with Radar Eyes swivelling round the room, consciously trying to pull, then you'll probably go home empty-handed. It's that slight whiff of desperation that you're giving off. Not a good look. On the other hand - if you're out with friends, having a laugh, not taking things too seriously, and if the concept of pulling is right at the back of your mind - and especially if pulling will actually be something of an inconvenience tonight (miles away from home, contact lens case not in pocket, you've had the same undies on all day, you'll be abandoning your friends) - then yes, you'll probably pull. And it will probably be just at that moment when you're tossing your head back in carefree laughter, when your eyes will accidentally alight on someone you hadn't noticed up until that very moment, and he'll be looking straight back at you with similar amusement, and you'll smile at each other without even thinking about it...and one of you will walk over to the other and say Hi...and that will be that.

At least, that has always been my experience.

Hmm, bit of a fruity subject for an opening conversational gambit. Maybe I should have stuck to something less personal. Like...like...

...like The Telly! You can't go far wrong with talking about the telly, can you? Well, okay then, let's compare our attitudes to Will And Grace (currently in its 2nd series on UK terrestial TV). Because I've just read that Peter of Secret Kings loathes it, and he's decided to stop feeling guilty about it.

Right now, I'm having a bit of a re-think about Will And Grace - and it stems from a conversation I was having with Buni about it last week (incidentally, he's stopped that blog of his for good). It's all to do with the way that the two gay men are defined in terms of their relationships with the two straight women. Will is a fantasy boyfriend for Grace, without the sex. Jack is an entertaining little plaything for Karen - without the sex. These are both commonly "acceptable" models for the portrayal of gay men in the mainstream media. Meaning that Will And Grace isn't altogether as "groundbreaking" as it smugly seems to think it is. Where's the sex and the sweat? Why is it all so antiseptic? To the extent that when Will and Jack "went out clubbing" together in a recent episode, they both returned as lemon fresh as when they stepped out of the door - every hair still in place, and absolutely stone cold sober - and still in each other's company, of course (though Jack had "made a date" for the following lunchtime - yeah, like that happens...) And of course, we never got to see inside of the club - in fact, we never get to see Jack and Will having any kind of gay life, as it is lived by gay New Yorkers. And as for the women? Grace is pretty much the stock fag hag, and Karen - funny as she is - is pretty much the stock "outrageous" rich bitch lush which we've all seen so many times before (anyone remember Mary Ann on Cybill, for instance?)

Oops, time's up. Ramble over. Lunch beckons.

Hey - this made a change, right? I'll write something considered and erudite later. Maybe.

Happy Hangover or Stupid Hangover? It is currently too early to say. Anyhow, a nice crisp smart shirt should help to get me...get me...where exactly am I going with this sentence?

OK, Stupid Hangover then. Damn.



Not Hugo Boss, just Hugo. Yes, we're back in Diffusion Range territory once again. A bit on the smart side for work, this shirt seems gets worn mainly to restaurants - and as such, always seems to end up with tiny litle gravy splashes on it within the first hour of being on my back. I may fancy myself as a bit of a gourmet, but I'm still one hell of a messy eater.

We now have our second casualty. Marcus, would you step forward please.

Now then, Marcus - remind me. What industry is it that you work in? The design and fashion industry, isn't it? And you really thought that I'd only have fifteen shirts to my name?

Marcus, you are now...Off The Project. Goodbye.

• In my early-to-mid teens, he was my greatest musical hero.
  
• I own every album he made between 1969 and 1983.
  
• In total, I own sixteen different albums bearing his name, as well as three other albums on which he made a significant musical contribution, two live bootlegs, and one single. Not to mention the various other records on which he made a guest appearance.
  
• I have seen him in concert just once, in 1980. He was a crashing disappointment.
  
• Tonight, in Sheffield, I shall be seeing him in concert once again.
  
• I can't wait.

I've been doing quite a bit of blogging today - but not on this particular page. Instead, a couple of us have been setting up a blog on behalf of a mutual friend on the other side of a world, as something of a birthday present.

I am already desperately missing the GBlogs "recently updated" list, which was removed for good a couple of days ago. However, Ben Hammersley has now provided a copy of the original list of particpating blogs, from which I have constructed a personal list of 111 UK weblogs which I visit at least once in a blue moon. If your tastes are vaguely similar to mine, then you might find it a useful launchpad for occasional idle browsing.

So, are there any decent alternatives to GBlogs?

Some people recommend blo.gs, but I find that it does a very partial job, completely ignoring a lot of sites.

Then there's weblogs.com - but that's a victim of its own success, with no easy way of sifting out the tiny percentage of sites that might be of interest.

The best option that I know of is freshblogs.com, which does a reasonably OK job - though it's not quite as quick or as reliable as GBlogs. Also, you have to register and create your own personal "watchlist" of favourite sites, which is an awfully time-consuming and laborious job - the user interface for this is cumbersome and initially confusing, and the response times are often slow.

I'll probably just revert to the old method of clicking down my sidebar instead. End of an era. Sniff.

Update: The GBlogs "recently updated" list is now back, under new ownership. Rejoice! Rejoice!

Another posh-boy shirt, this time from Hackett. Stripes on the main body of the shirt, which are cross-hatched on the collar, double cuffs and placket (the placket being the strip down the front where the button holes go).

This is very much a formal business shirt, which doesn't look right when worn without a tie. Unfortunately, since I haven't had to wear a tie to work since July 2001, this means that it never gets worn any more, which is a bit of a shame.

In fact, come to think of it, I don't think I've worn a tie all year - not even once - and this after sixteen years of wearing one every day to the office. How strange.

London readers who may entertain a desire to commune with me in meatspace, please note the following:

Saturday October 26 - I'm down in London for a party. Eagle-eyed stalkers may be able to spot me prowling round Tate Modern on Saturday afternoon, ooh-ing and aah-ing at that great big Anish Kapoor thingy, and maybe stroking my chin thoughtfully at the Barnett Newman exhibition.

By the way: the invitation to this party says that I should come dressed as a fictional character. I'm a bit stumped at present, so does anyone have any bright ideas for this?

Sunday October 27 - Originally, this was meant to be Royal Vauxhall Tavern day. However, an unfortunate (and previously overlooked) diary clash means that I'll be shooting back to Nottingham for a Paul Weller concert instead. Therefore...

Sunday November 3 - Royal Vauxhall Tavern day! With Chig! Yes - this is your chance to commune in meatspace with two provincial webloggers for the price of one. And this time, I won't be shooting off early to catch the train, either - I'll be there for the duration. Which may also mean "La Trois". We shall see.

There are three more tunes which could have been squeezed into last week’s sequence, including two which I only stumbled across last week (and haven’t yet heard).

Barbara Mason – From His Woman To You (1974) (lyrics)

This was Barbara’s original (and rather more measured!) answer to Shirley’s Woman To Woman.

Richard “Dimples” Fields With Betty Wright – She’s Got Papers On Me (1981) (lyrics)
Note: you might need to hit CTRL-A to make these lyrics readable - you'll see what I mean.

Seven years later, and Barbara “home wrecker” Mason has been at it again – stealing Richard “Dimples” Fields from Betty Wright (who gets to have her own say in the second half of this tune).

Now, this is where things start to get complicated. Strictly speaking, Barbara’s She’s Got Papers, But I Got The Man is the answer record to She’s Got Papers On Me (hence the references to “Betty” rather than “Shirley”). However, it also fits in nicely to the Barbara/Shirley scenario, as Shirley’s I Don’t Play That answers Barbara’s Another Man, which in turns answers She’s Got Papers, But I Got The Man.

Are you still with me? Or are you hopelessly confused by now? And remind me again: exactly who was calling out whose name, in whose bed, on which record?

Tout Sweet – Another Man (Is Twice As Nice) (1984)

Using the same melody and an almost identical backing track, this was a hastily assembled answer record to Barbara’s Another Man – from the perspective of the man. Unfortunately, it’s a nasty cheap cash-in job from some two-bit hack – not particularly funny, and actually quite homophobic into the bargain. Which is why I didn’t bother MP3-ing it from my original 12-inch (50p in the bargain bin, then a colossal disappointment when I got home and played it).

11. The Cookie Club
22 St James's Street NG1 6FG
(official site)

To tell the truth: since it moved from its old location (on Pelham Street), I have yet to visit the Cookie Club at its new home. So what is it doing in my list?

The reason is this. From 1986 to 1995 (or thereabouts), 22 St James’s Street was the home of Nottingham’s one gay club. It started life as Club 69, then was reborn as L’Amour in early 1987, and as Nero’s around 1990, before “going straight” as Deluxe around 1995.

As Club 69 and as L’Amour, the venue was such a vile pit that I could almost never bring myself to visit it. However, this did not stop me from launching my DJ-ing career there, in attempt to create an “alternative” night for people who felt similarly pissed off with the place.

As Nero’s, there was something of an improvement. The music policy moved away from relentless, rancid, dated Hi-NRG, the décor began to approach something vaguely reasonable looking, and the clientele ceased to look quite so uniformly miserable, alienated and desperate. This was good enough for me. I became a regular, who was generally to be found bopping away in the semi-darkness of the tiny little “serious dancers” corner near the DJ booth. Or else thrashing about in the middle of the smoke-filled main floor, making new friends (including a blonde, fresh faced Chig, one Saturday night in the spring of 1990).

The anthems? Shocked, Finally, Everybody's Free. Rhythm Is A Mystery, Rhythm Is A Dancer. The DOP’s “(Rocking To The Rhythm Of A) Groovy Beat”. Inner City’s “Pennies From Heaven”. Luther & Janet’s “The Best Things In Life Are Free”. Atlantic Ocean and Tony Di Bart and Alex Party (“Read My Lips”). Fairly obvious stuff, for fairly innocent times – before the first visits to FF and Trade, before the real madness set in.

The Cookie Club mainly plays retro indie hits to non-clubby former students, and as such is meant to be a good night out. But it will always be sleazy old Nero’s to me.

12. Creation Florists
80, Derby Rd NG1 5FD

In amongst the many antique shops on this stretch of Derby Road (which connects Maid Marian Way to Canning Circus) lies this excellent florists, which provides most of the large displays for the city’s more swish bars and restaurants. If you want Bold & Dramatic rather than Tasteful & Twee to go in that nice vase in your front room, then Creation is the place to go.

13. Flannels
34- 36 Bridlesmith Gate NG1 2GQ

Formerly Cruise Flannels, and now expanded into the floor below, this place is Label City. Gucci, Prada, Helmut Lang. D&G and Comme. Armani and Versace. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. All of which is badly undermined by the clueless wideboy staff who work there (with a couple of notable exceptions). If you’re selling exquisitely beautiful clothes, then you really do need to understand clothes, rather than merely being in thrall to their labels.

14. Fopp Records
The Frontage, Queen Street, NG1 2AR
(official site, with map)

I’ve written about Fopp before. A very dangerous place indeed. And also the ideal place to help you fill in the “back catalogue” gaps in your CD collection. Just try and walk past those “everything for £5” racks empty-handed…

15. Gauntleys
4 High Street, Exchange Arcade, NG1 2ET
(official site)

I’ve also written about Gauntleys before, at some length, back in the very early days of this blog. A first class vintners, but quite terrifying for the casual browser.

Jump to next section.

Labels: mynottingham

Austin Reed.

Hang on a minute. Austin Reed? Austin "nice safe middle-aged businessman" Reed? And to think I used to aspire to hipness. Oh, what has become of me? I cannot show my face! For shame!

I can't even remember buying this. I must have done it in a semi-conscious, trance-like state, lured into the store by an impulse beyond my control.

Anyway, it's quite a nice shirt for all that. Well made, durable, easy to iron, and perfect for that "Biz-Cazh" look.

More stripes, but this isn't a Paul Smith for once - it's Limeys instead. How can you tell? Well, the collar is a different shape. Paul Smith collars are slightly bigger and more pointed, whereas this shirt has a shorter, more cutaway design. Details, details - it's all in the details.

Are you getting bored yet? Well, too bad. We're in this till the bitter end.