My husband used to have a friend in London who had grown up with him in Sweden, let’s call him Andreas. Andreas was your typical gay fashion lover, obsessed with Paris, spent all his money on Dior Homme suits, and one of his most prized possessions was his copy of the first issue of Numero. The only weird thing was that he wasn’t gay. Now, I am not saying that in order to be a fashion-loving man, you have to be gay, because that is certainly not the case. And Andreas was not the typical straight guy. He would offer styling tips, could be trusted to give a frank opinion on whether “my bum looks big in this” and was the perfect date for fashion parties. These were not things I usually expected from a straight man.
Anyway, there was one incident that took place a few years back, that I’ve never forgotten. Gay or not, this man was truly fashion-obsessed.
My husband, Andreas and I were in a pub with some friends. This pub, called the Good Mixer is in London’s Camden Town, which is the rock/indie/punk/mod part of town. The Good Mixer used to be, and probably still is, pretty gross. It is a mix of dodgy old guys, skinny indie boys, girls with mohawks and the random famous person (usually Amy Winehouse or Pete Dogherty back in those days.) The toilets were…vile. In London, it was the norm to hang out in gross venues, that was where all the cool stuff happened.
Anyway, we were having a drink, and I excused myself to go to the bathroom. Inside, there was a girl puking all over the place, so I promptly exited. I sat down next to Andreas on the bench seating, and we started chatting. The puking girl in the toilets came back into the pub, and she had managed to compose herself, aside from the vomit on her jeans. Unfortunately for us, she sat down next to Andreas. I whispered to him that she was the girl I had seen throwing up in the toilets, and that there was evidence of it on her jeans. And this is the moment that I’ll never forget. Andreas, in top form, explained to me that “If she gets any vomit on me, I’ll make her pay my dry cleaning bill. And besides, I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that she’s got vomit on her jeans, or the fact that they are flared.”
Andreas was a fashion man, through and through.