Down to Edinburgh for the quarterly appointment with the jovial eye surgeon and a trip to the tailors to be measured for a replacement dinner jacket. The old dinner jacket has done sterling service over the years but on our recent cruise it suffered from a number of storm induced 'spillages'. Speckled stains on the front bear mute testimony to the difficulty of transferring soup from a tureen to a plate when the deck is pitching through 50 degrees.
The train to Edinburgh is on time and there are plenty of seats. Princes Street, true to form, is already busy ( as in crazy busy ) when we arrive. We move quickly to the relative calm of George Street where the pavement tables are doing a brisk trade with sun seeking tourists.
The tailors survives by doing those things that other firms stopped doing long ago. They are particularly busy at the moment letting out graduation attire to Edinburgh students. The world of academia seems to be one of the last places where white tie is still a thing.
The presence of exotically wonderful cloaks tells us that the season for the Kings summer garden parties at Holyrood Palace is also drawing close.
Suits made out of unforgiving material are the firms speciality. They favour the sort of impermeable Harris Tweed that is thick enough to stand up on its own and could stop a bullet or easily rebuff the piercing wind on a Scottish winters day. You need to live in Braemar to carry off this look.
We shall go south to see this next month :https://www.royalacademy.org.uk/exhibition/astonishing-things
And if it gets hotter we may drive north to this place for a few nights :https://www.highlandcoasthotels.com/kylesku-hotel/dining
Sportsmen and birds :https://birdhistory.substack.com/p/birds-for-me-and-none-for-thee
How many squall in Scottish glens are unexpected enough to catch out anyone - let alone the wildlife?
ReplyDeleteHari OM
ReplyDeleteSomehow I missed seeing yesterday's post... I may have to hunt down some of those strawberries on my drive north next week... Looking forward to your review of the Verne artworks; am over to Edinburgh for the Open exhibition at the gallery for Monday. As for that tweed, I can vouch for the one thing it can't guard against is wool moth........ dad's jacket couldn't even go to the charity shop! YAM xx
I would never have imagined a tailor shop could be so atmospheric. I bought a vintage Harris tweed coat a number of years ago, and I have been thinking about how out-of-place it might seem here in Southern France, even if the weather is cool. I guess the worst case is people will assume I'm British, which might be a blessing these days.
ReplyDeleteThat is such a pretty train ride, across the big red masterpiece of engineering.
ReplyDeletePremises like the 'old-fashioned' tailors have a distinctive smell.
ReplyDeleteMy dad had quite a few Harris Tweed suits. A few months after Dad died, my mom was finally able to empty his closet. She took his suits to an organization that helped people with finding jobs, from the interviewing process to dressing for the interview. When she dropped the suits, a very kind man with a soft Southern drawl said, "Oh, ma'am, these are some fine, fine suits. You've blessed a lot of people." She cried, he hugged her.
ReplyDeleteI enjoy reading about your trips to Edinburgh. I have just started rereading all the Ian Rankin (John Rebus) novels. Not that he would
ReplyDeletego into such a fine gentleman's tailor shop.
That Harris Tweed jacket is a stunner!
ReplyDeleteYour tailor's shop reminds me of a movie set in a fine tailor shop that was a front for extraordinary gentlemen.
ReplyDelete