Made to Measure

Posted on May 12, 2015 by volpeadrian

Apparently some of you would like to be reminded that we make garments to measure….

And a bit of eye candy, no, no, no, not Emi, it’s all about me, me, me!

Volpe Night Out

I mean around all my travelling, ducking and diving, you want me to work as well. I’ll have you know I didn’t get into this to have a job it’s more of a role according to Boris, and only a couple of hours a fortnight at that.

A few days in Ibiza here, a weekend in Rome there, it’s as if you are trying to cramp my style!

Anyway, talking of style here are some photos of some outfits that I have put together, in order that you might have some idea of what I will mainly be wearing this summer.

These photos have already made an appearance on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter for those of you who stalk me in such places.

We finally have a full range of summer fabrics for suits, jackets, shirts and beach towels. As it’s not warm enough for beach towels I’ll post those later. I know I’ll only get a slew of “out of office” from those of you who spend more time reclining on a beach than I do.

I’ll keep you abreast of my exploits and travels at another point as we are only a few days in, and don’t worry I’m storing it up.

Goodness, if I have to put up with Neil and Eugene fighting who has the greater column inches each time I write one of these things. Luckily neither on them would be seen dead in any of the things I am posting here!

And so you know it’s not just about jackets, because dahlinks they are so on trend! Heavens I must leave the little green fairee alone!

Look I’m only trying to sound down, and trendy with the kids, and their social media.

I wouldn’t want you to think that we’d forgotten about the suits…. the one above is particularly natty.

Finally here is a photo to show that I can sew. I know you only have my word for that, but I can and have in the past.

Me and the elves are capable of anything, suits, jackets, trousers, shirts, ties, socks, underwear, coats and anything else including beach towels, just ask!

I will defer to Bill Murray to finish, more or less.

When Chekhov saw the long winter, he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life. But standing here among the people of Pimlico and basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn’t imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter.

Early February Newsletter 2015

Posted on February 3, 2015 by volpeadrian

Given what is going on in Europe, I have been looking for a new tax haven to store my vast wealth. By vast wealth I refer to the jar half full of coins that was on the mantelpiece. It was fuller, but I had to raid it for 20 pence pieces the other day in order to buy a bottle of Petrus.

I had kept a note of its contents in my Smythson’s ‘Soho Sinner’ notebook, but that has recently gone AWOL. Yes Dave, it appears the Creative Consultant has been doing a marvellous job. It seems I’m not the only one interested in setting up a complicated series of trusts and offshore companies to save a few pence.

I decided to look for a safe haven in order not to pay the Swiss a huge roll to put it under their mattress.

I had contemplated transferring it to the principality of Battenburg, but that would be the icing on the cake.

And who really knows what the Swiss are going to do next? One night we might go to bed and the next day, the entire nation may have disappeared only to re-appear, invisible to the naked eye, on the moon in some sort of despicable act undertaken by some evil genius who doesn’t look unlike a stretch Silvio.

Good – then the Martians can come along and steal it all.

A small l.e.d. lamp went off in an environmentally friendly fashion in my head.

How about keeping my huge stash like, onshore man, perhaps sink it in a Cornish Tin Mine, no, not as an investment. So I consulted a friend, a certain P.Diddy, he lives down that way. It’s not his real name, but then who’d really want to be called that.

Mr Combs, it’s over!

Goodness, I am throwing jokes around like confetti today.

I took my private jet to Newquay. HM’s government allows me this expense for the rapid transfer of stock and deliveries for all my important clients.

As PD and I flew over what appeared to be a small private island on our reckie, I thought to myself that old rogue Redknapp must be doing well. The greatest manger England never had. That’s almost like saying Steve McLaren was the greatest manager England never had.

You mean he was England manager? I never knew, really? Perhaps I just blotted those rainy days and Sundays from my memory, they always got me down.

However, the island turned out to be St Michael’s Mount. Even better, a rock that in times gone by was inhabited by pirates, what safer place could there be?

Here are my four options. It’s a Mad, Mad World.

End of the Rainbow

Land’s End

Sennen Cove

St Michael’s Mount

So we all now have the election on our minds. Election I said!

I see it going like this, thanks once again, to Monty Python.

The Tousled Blond Mayor of the Lake, his arm clad in the purest shimmering samite held aloft a Glo’stick from the bosom of the water, signifying by divine providence that Dave was to carry the Exchequer and THAT is why he is your Prime Minister.

Well, strange blond men lyin’ in ponds distributin’ swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate of the masses, not pond life and some farcical aquatic ceremony.

Related to the election, apparently there are those amongst you who will do anything to get to Ibiza.

Grant Shapps has been joking that although there will be stiff competition, only the hardest, working campaigners (ooohhh get you and your double entendres!) will be able to join Sam and Dave in a villa on holiday in Ibiza. So it will be days at Blue Marlin, chorizo by the pool and goodbye to Torymolinos.

Lucky old Dave even has a club named after him, DC10, a mixture of his initials and what he scores out of a 10 as a human baked bean. A friend of mine would say he’s “Awesome”. Not so!

So soft drinks all round and Adam Boulton will be pouring out the ‘Red Bull’, or just seeing a little red mist.

Whoa! Where do I sign?

If it means knocking on doors I’m up for it. I love a game of ‘Knock Down Ginger’.

As for kissing babes… me the Third Duke of Wimburn kissing women on their doorsteps for the sake of political gain, for an old school chum, with my reputation!

Oh sorry, babies! Eeewwww.

Apparently Nigel F is offering a weekend picking elderberries. Do elderberries become sloeberries, does the gin have anything to do with it, and was ‘his mother a hamster?’

Once again, thank you Monty Python….

So if the Camerons are going to enjoy the hedonistic lifestyle of the la Isla Bonita, Space, Amnesia, Es Paradis and Glitterbox at Boom, where the f*%$ am I going to go?

Anyways, that’s not the election that everyone is talking about.

We all want to know if David Ginola will become FIFA president and oust the bumbling, tumbling, fool Bepp Splater.

Daveeed would like to merge the mens and ladies’ World Cups in order that they take place at the same time.

OOoooooooooooh Davveeeed, me the Third Duke of Wimburn in the shower of the Brazilian Ladies changing room at the full time whistle with my reputation, I wouldn’t know which way to turn.

Daveeeeeed, you’ll be getting my vote and that of a good friend of mine who has now changed her profile photo to one of a young, coiffed and timberless Daveeeed.

By her own admission she has a little bit of crush on him, well him and Jose Mourinho. Well him, Jose, George Clooney and the Hemsworths. Well Daveed, Jose, George, the Hemsworths and… . Stop this is getting a little out of hand. Is there someone you don’t have a crush on? I don’t have all day to write this!

I took the liberty of inserting a photo of what the majority of people feel are the ideal woman, followed by that of the ideal man.

Well I don’t know what else you expected!

Given these days of sexual liberty, I will allow you all to decide on which side of the fence you will fall.

However, one amongst you, and a man amongst men, has another type of crush. After purchasing a new pair of shoes, he will place the right shoe next to him on the bed on a velvet pillow. The shoe must not have been worn, the shoe tree must be in place, and it must be freshly polished. He will then stroke and buff the shoe until the smell of fresh polish puts him to sleep.

OK, OK, the last bit I made up, but as for the velvet pillow, well OK, I made that bit up as well, the silk pillow cases he uses are good enough. I just didn’t think it sounded weird enough. Really?

These are photos of shoes for those of you who not satisfied with the other photos above and require something a little stronger. A little bit of posh, a little bit of rough and of course a little something for those of you who grew up on a farm.

Headed for a Velvet Pillow

A Little Bit of Rough

No Sign of a Struggle

And finally a panorama……

St Michael’s Mount

January Newsletter 2015

Posted on January 19, 2015 by volpeadrian

It is good to see so many faces back from the Bacchanalian festivities at New Year.

Today is supposed to be one of the most depressing days of the year, but the sun is shining, so just how bad can it be?

Well now you’re bored; those resolutions are becoming a pain in the behind, and worse; you are SOBER.

Week three of; “Not a drop will pass my lips”, waking in the morning, wondering as Winston Churchill nearly put it, looking at himself in the mirror; “I was drunk, Miss, but this morning I am sober, and you are still ugly!”

And even worse; you’ve been back at work a couple of weeks and just to show how bored everyone really was; the Swiss, yes the Swiss of all people; decided to do something dramatic to shake everyone up a little.

Had the St Bernard been doing the rounds, doling out the Schnapps?

No, they didn’t delay a train, make a cuckoo clock that sang out of tune or wittily divert a ski slope so a Russian Oligarch and his family ended up in the middle of Andorra.

No, what they did was to remove the cap that pegged the Swiss Franc to the Euro! Whoops, panic set in across the global markets, and a Rolex watch quadrupled in price. OK, not really.

It had the immediate effect of making beans on toast in a mountain side restaurant in Gstaad £100. My goodness I should Coco, that’ll be an extra £50.

Well who’d have thought it from the Swiss?

I have been in Italy visiting Bologna, Florence and Pitti Uomo.

Pitti Uomo I have discussed before; but it is a trade show devoted to menswear, dare I say men’s fashion? Well I daren’t say it again!

This is the first group of ‘Fashionistas’ I saw, sporting the latest craze for ‘Boy Band Chic’ where Louis Walsh meets Conchita Wurst.

Boy Band Chic

For those amongst you, who sport a beard, please accept my apologies in advance for any offence I ~~may~~ will cause.

I wore a suit on the two days I attended, when I would have felt more at home dressed as Santa Lycra.

One hall denied me access because I wasn’t looking “Lumbersexual” enough.

WHAT?????????

I looked around, it wasn’t an osteopath’s convention, it wasn’t that dark, no one was bent double wearing some sort of weird harness, holding their back and muttering under their breath “I’m never doing that again”.

Apparently it means a particular look, a hipster beard, check shirt, hat and short trousers and heavy boots. Now at this point I am losing the will to dress again, but I can see men with earrings, sunglasses indoors, bracelets, braces and all the other requirements.

Monty Python clearly got it right with the ‘Lumberjack Song’. Michael Palin sings:

I cut down trees, I skip and jump,
I like to press wild flowers.
I put on women’s clothing,
And hang around in bars.

I chop down trees, I wear high heels,
Suspenders and a bra.
I wish I’d been a girlie
Just like my dear papa.

I am now prepared for this eventuality, I have bought a false beard to carry in my pocket for a fashion emergency, and if you happen to notice that my trouser pocket is bulging, and a few stray hairs can be seen at the pocket opening despite my use of Captain Fawcett’s Moustache wax, fear not; I believe that that if it don’t fit, don’t force it.

Hahahaha. Sorry, couldn’t resist. I knew I’d get that joke in eventually. It’s only been 4 years of toil.

Anyway I have added my twist on the ‘Hipster/Lumbersexual’ look, false beard included and added a photo, and you’ll be happy to see it doesn’t involve Lycra.

Anyway here’s one for The Sartorialist!

Hipster

I know if you didn’t know it was me you’d never know. I took this indoors as you know I would never want to be seen in the street incognito!

Anyway, enough fashion nonsense, dahlinks. You don’t read my newsletter for fashion news or advice. I just post that when it comes in, and given current evidence I haven’t got a clue about anything related to clothing of any shape or form.

I was ill during my trip to Italy, but I did have a dinner with Emanuele to celebrate his birthday, but after that I was consigned to bed for days, not because of food or alcohol, but with a very nasty cold.

However in celebration of Emanuele, here is our annual photo.

Emanuele et moi

I am Xerxes, and earlier I was lain on a chaise longue, minions scurrying here and there peeling me grapes, applying fresh gilt to my skin in order that I might blind anyone who wants an audience with me and my magnificence, and no that is not a euphemism.

Sat humbly at the end of my super sofa, is DJ Dave Cam.

He’d searched out an audience with the greatest dictator the world has ever known, who has conquered more worlds than he has heard of, seen more baked beans than there are in a tin.

He’s put his sunglasses back on, his inability to frown or give any expression of any sorts means we have no idea what he feels about anything, and the glare from my golden glory is so strong that he is rendered inert,

Poof! a puff of smoke, and at his shoulder is ‘Little ol’ Nick’, whispering in Dave’s ear, “I can deliver you the Nation and Europe too. U keep the ones I don’t want, and we’ll get along famously.”

For heaven sake that’s the last time I touch J Collis Browne’s Linctus.

I”ve not been well, but I’ll never touch another drop of that, it’s back to the Absinthe minded faerie for me.

I was starting to hallucinate that we’d be stuck with an Italian style, rotating, coalition government, everyone fighting like rats in a sack, an unholy alliance between Nick Farage and the Scottish Nationals, with the Greens shining a light on it, via the open fridge door. You’d think they’d have they’d have looked at the efficiency rating stepped inside closed the door and been left in the cold, only later to be asked to appear on Gogglebox alongside DJ Dave for ‘Street Cred’.

Right, that really is enough linctus. No it’s not, yes it is, no it’s not. You two stop arguing with yourself, and pass the bottle here, it doesn’t really contain opiates does it?

Oh yes it does, oh, no it doesn’t, oh blimey, oh yes it does.

Mustn’t share this with the other personalities, they’ll all want a sip, and it is January and of course, “Not a drop will pass my lips”.

But no one said a thing about Cough Syrup!

I had to have photographic evidence that this was real and not a hallucination, but then I suppose only in Italy?

Polizia?
Only in Italy!

And to finish, a liitle note to Neil and Scratch.

“Scratchie, get well soon.”

Please read the last newsletter in tribute to Marie Eichner.

A very late October Newsletter…..

Posted on November 13, 2014 by volpeadrian

Just back from Timbuktu……

I will keep returning to this, but it is clear that I can no longer eat anywhere without bumping into someone I know; who just by chance happens to know me. Now if I could only work out how to be famous and rich!

In the last month, Wolf, Chris, Michael, Mark, David, Ahmed, Wolf (again), Damian and The Bear from the Bear hunting joke have all appeared at an establishment where I have been, and I hasten to add, not always the same establishment.

In the end I had to remove myself from Pimlico, and London; and I headed for a cave, much like Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. He was searching out a place of peace and solitude, without scent, without perfume. I, on the other hand was just looking for a place to eat alone.

Climbing up to my place of solitude I passed Neil from Ibiza, scraping lichen from the side of the cliff, he turned and smiled at me his gold tooth glinting in the morning sunshine, his eyes wide and manic, chewing on a mushroom. I must have seemed no more than a little green goblin, and he went back to his task.

Once in my cave, I settled down to eat a sandwich that I had prepared earlier. No sooner had I taken my first bite than a bear loomed large in the opening to the cave, complaining of a sore head and the fact that despite his best efforts he had not managed to deter the hunters. He had a least brought a bottle Ursus Vodka and a couple of glasses, so we shared my sandwich and his vodka.

We both became comfortable with the fact that solitude is rare, but that we would never be lonely.

STOP PRESS: Get well soon Darren that was for you.

This is late, very, very late, but Once again I am in the middle of a series of epic celebrations, they started 3, 5, 9, 14 days ago and continue apace.

For those of you who are still blissfully unaware, but shouldn’t be; the 1^st November is/was my birthday, but thank you to all those of you who helped me celebrate, and those who wished me many happy returns.

I crossed the threshold into November, from Halloween to All Saints.

Emi had asked me if I dressed up for Halloween, I explained that it hadn’t been make-up that I was wearing, but actually my face. She then did that shivery thing that she does and the spent the few minutes tapping wood with her knuckles.

Mug Shot

This was a mug produced by scanning my face and then printing it on Wolf’s 3D printer. The least he could have done, was make it out of chocolate!

I didn’t think I looked that bad for a second night of finishing at after 3am.

Still what do I know?

I’ve posted loads of new stock, and finally it has gone from Mid-Summer Night’s Dream to a bleak mid-winter all in a knight’s tale.

It was a silent night and although the frost was cruel, bahhh humbug, buy something warm for Christmas.

OK, OK, I’ll stop.

Birthday Brunch

The celebrations included all sorts of revelry. Dinner at Plum and Spilt Milk, Sunday brunch at the Corinthia Hotel, a Birthday Carrot Cake baked personally for me. Big Up Dr T.

Birthday Cake

An entertaining evening at The Emirates watching, (and I am not a supporter of any football team), Arsenal throw away a 3-0 lead against Anderlecht. It wasn’t until Arsene asked me and Neil (Trainer) to warm up on the touchline that we realised things had got that bad.

Emirates Selfie – Neil

Finally at the weekend I went up to Newcastle to visit the homeland of my mother’s side of the family, and give Mike and the Magpies a little advice. Not sure how deeply involved I will now be in the Premier League, where will I find the time? I was suitably dressed in a black and white striped, cropped top and shorts for the 3C temperatures.

Durham, because it’s pretty.

Durham

However on Sunday I did get to see the Silver Swan at Bowes Museum in Barnard Castle. It made a pleasant change from seeing the twinkle toed stars doing their dying swan.

Bowes Museum

In fact so busy, I really only caught up with Vash last night!!!!

At this point I will start to show my age, but I think we should finally lay to rest a Saturday night television programme amidst rumours that all is not what it seems.

So I think it’s about time that X-Factor met The Golden Shot, and something less William Tell and more macabre. I suppose it could end up more like Saw; Simon and Louie with apples atop their heads, and Bernie, “The Bolt” please.

In a booth close by, will be middle England represented by Andy Murray’s mum and the future of our children, their television and their music is in her hands.

With previously unseen grace she instructs Bernie, left a bit, up a bit, right a bit, right a bit more, no too far, that’s Attila The Hun, down a bit, down a bit more. FIRE!

I will leave you to work out your conclusion, however in my world and it wouldn’t be good for either Simon or Louie.

Perhaps it’s just a Generation thing, but as long as I end up with a cuddly toy, I’ll be OK.

More new stock will follow.

Waiting for new Stock?

Posted on October 10, 2014 by volpeadrian

THERE WILL BE PHOTOS OF NEW STOCK OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS –

THAT SAID, BACK TO ME.

So the Ibiza Closing Parties have been and gone.

I haven’t been and didn’t go.

The island will once more become Tarry Town, the legend of Sleepy Hollow will continue, and we all know how that ends. Death and a drug crazed headless horseman, or am I wrong, and is that the general state of affairs in Ibiza?

I draw no comparison to anyone I know, fictional characters or friends, or fictional friends, split personalities and quadro-polar suffering people like me.

I have started to post daily photos of what I am wearing, this has been drawing appreciative comments, and a damn sight better than the photos of me in the Emperor’s new clothes.

There is an entire wardrobe created for his Highness made from the finest gossamer fabrics. As a child the mere use of the ‘g’ word would reduce us all into sniggering wrecks, nothing has changed, and Crispian, I am thinking of you. I wear my immaturity with pride and a lot of colour, as you can see from the photos.

As I said the desire to give things up for a month would have a darker side, and after GoSober we are now being told, well OK, encouraged to ‘Go with the Flow’. So the first shower of the day now should involve a little tinkle, and there will be no pot at the end of the golden rainbow. Apparently we could save 720 million gallons a year!

We could turn that into more alcohol and then toast abstention!

So where I want to know, do we go with ‘Gone with the Wind’?

This week a Mark and I had dinner, thank you Mark. It now appears I cannot go out for a meal anywhere in the universe without bumping into someone I know. We headed for Café Murano, and low and behold if I don’t meet another friend there, but also the restaurant manager was someone I hadn’t seen for a few years. Luckily I had left him with a good impression.

I just wanted to make sure I put this in, before I forgot, age et al.

My recommendations for Ibiza next year, which I will update just before Easter next year:

Hotel:

Hotel Royal Plaza

http://www.royalplaza.es/en

I have been staying here for years. Eduardo Manero is the General Manager and all the staff are fantastic. It has large clean rooms with a balcony, a pool on the roof, close to the centre of Ibiza town and the port in a quiet residential area.

Villas:

Bonder & Co

http://www.bonderco.com/ibiza/

Some of the most amazing villas there are. I have seen them, I know.

Restaurants:

C’an Alfredo

http://www.canalfredo.com/

It is a local restaurant that serves mainly local people, serving mainly local dishes, Juan and his daughter Nuria are lovely people, and one of my favourite places to eat, anywhere.

Blonde Ibiza

https://www.facebook.com/blondeibiza

This will need very little said about it, Eugene, Neil and Wes. Good food, great atmosphere and under the walls of the old town.

La Bodega

http://www.labodegaibiza.es/

One of Ibiza’s best tapas restaurants, book or be disappointed.

C’an Costa

It doesn’t have website, you have to share a table, you can’t book, you just have turn up and wait. It won the ‘La Medalla de Oro’ for food on the Island, and about time too. Dinner will set you back €25 euros including wine, if you push the boat out.

Ibiza town has many similar places they will all require a wait, but there are reasons why you have to wait.

Boats:

http://www.boatsibiza.com

Neil and the crowd will show the island from a completely different perspective.

Bars and Clubs:

I’ll leave you to find these. I have no idea

Beaches:

Ibiza has so many beautiful beaches, you could go to a different beach every day for a month and each one would give something different.

This is one of my favourites and almost impossible to find. Often when I have been there in the height of the August madness I have been alone there.

We are currently planning another wine evening, and I will keep you informed of progress.

Newletter – September 2014

Posted on October 1, 2014 by volpeadrian

September was a great month, I won the lottery.

Yes, it’s true and I shall donate my winnings to charity all £2.60.

And on that theme I will take you back to my January Newsletter and doing, or not doing month, after month for charity. I will admit I got October’s month wrong. By all accounts we have to GoSober…..

£$%& that….What with January’s month of abstinence and now October, never will another drop pass my lips. Ooops, who opened that bottle of champagne, how kind Vash, a sip of that will calm my nerves.

I was on the tube and looked up and saw this photo, all I could think was that this poor guy probably needed a very large drink once he had finished this photo shoot.

GoSober

And if I want to look like a super-hero, it is normally the alcohol that is involved in me putting my underpants on outside my trousers, or slipping into Emi’s red Lycra. This look is so over: been there, done that. The photos are on the blog, you just have to look for them.

Yes, those unbelievers amongst you, I do use public transport; life is not all private jets, boats in the med, expensive champagne, beautiful sunsets and happy endings. Well not always, but I’m working on it.

This isn’t a sunset, but only in Ibiza can you see a rainbow, without clouds, without rain and without a pot of gold at the end, because it had no end.

Rainbow without rain

Anyway back to me.

Last weekend saw me at the Tattoo convention at Tobacco Dock followed by Novikov for a DJ session courtesy of Dan Williams and then on to The Cuckoo Club where the glo’sticks are light sabres. They look like props from “The Singing, Ringing Tree”, look it up on Youtube, it’s terrifying.

The Cuckoo Club was with David Morales who was gigging (note: down with the kids word), he’d been with us at dinner. Us being Neil (Ibiza), Wes, Tai, Tony, Lisa, Blu and Dan, and of course David.

A big thank you to Vash, he said you made him feel like a Superstar DJ.

Sorry Vash, but the similarity is freaky……

He has that look that you get when someone orders a glass, and you’re thinking, look mate you’re on a date, buy a bottle to share with her/him/other you tight git!

Separated at Birth?

What I don’t understand about the clubs like Novikov and Cuckoo, is that no one dances. It’s all meaningless looks, sorry, I mean meaningful looks and vertical drinking. Well the drinking has to be vertical; if they sit down they can’t see over the giant bottle of vodka. I mean there was a point on Friday where I wasn’t scared of the cuckoo; it was the Grey Goose in a bath that frightened the life out of me.

Then it flapped it’s wings and in a moment it was gone.

Glo’sticks for Cuckoos

Use the fork Luke

These were confiscated at the airport on the way back to Ibiza, I wonder whose children are playing with them now? The light sabres, not the motley crew…

Wandering back across St James Park at 4am, the London Eye, never fails to impress.

London Eye 4am

The month had started strangely. I went to see The Dark Knight in Brompton Cemetery, which was slightly eerie, but great fun.

The Dark Knight

Brompton Cemetery

I’d like this skin cream, please…

Before

and

After

The middle of the month saw me celebrate a friend’s birthday lunch at his beautiful country estate in Clapham. I don’t often travel out that far, but this time I didn’t get horribly lost, I just turned up in Balham at a house he hadn’t lived in for years. I just assumed he still lived there, but it was boarded up, the garden was in desperate need of not just a manicure, but a pedicure as well. I suppose that’s the countryside for you. Well I do go to Ibiza more often than I go to Balham. Goodness I’m so ‘metrowhatever’.

I’ve put this in because Neil would like it.

Scartch -Still chasing the Stones after all these years

Scratch -Still chasing the Stones after all these years

In the end, the month ended with some applause. No not for my latest collection of winter clothes, which is starting to arrive, but a huge clap of thunder. It proved that not every day in Ibiza ends with a sunset, but as I ended the summer there last weekend it was a fitting end to the season and as enjoyable as any sunset.

Summer Lightning

And just to end, I will be posting photos of some new stock.

Summer has ended Newsletter 2014

Posted on September 9, 2014 by volpeadrian

Happy Birthday Sam, and Tony.

So once again I get a slew of “Out of Office” replies… Sven it appears is never in his office.

No, not Nancy’s Sven, another Sven. I’d forgotten all about that Sven. He’s now managing Guangzhou R&F in China, I had to look that up on Wikipedia. Sometimes I wonder why I bother, anyway I’m away on holiday, am I bothered?

It seems that this newsletter is a kind of 50 Shades of Grey thing. Clearly there are more shades of Grey than that, he just wasn’t using his imagination, just ask John Major. More peas Norma? Bet that’s not in there. Our Emi has given up reading it on the tube, because….. Because everyone was staring at her, and as far as she was concerned it had nothing to her gorgeousness. A customer’s words, not mine I hasten to add.

The newsletter is helping a relatively newly married couple spice up their bedroom activities because they have admitted to reading this together in bed before….ahem! Well who’d of thought it? I didn’t think it was that racy, it appears all the talk of Lycra and mink saddles has got some amongst you getting a little frisky.

Talking of the mink saddle; it has gone; as anticipated to a private collection in Japan. It will go into a glass case alongside such rare items as a pair of worn Britney Spears panties and a photo of Madonna with her clothes on.

I know it’s been cold and wet at home, but I’ve been sunning myself in Ibiza and training for my next challenge in the vain hope that I will remain drier than I had been on the bike ride. That being said, perhaps I shall don a deep sea diver’s suit, lead weights and all; and to make it easier I shall carry Adam on my shoulders dressed as Goldilocks.

I will reveal all very soon. OK, at about 10.30am when I get to the beach. Eeeeewwwwww!

Why, Oh why is it that the people who will insist on sunbathing in the altogether are the ones who should be the ones who should holiday in a tent, and wear it!

This trip to the island has been much more relaxed, Eugene has been away at Burning Man, which has done its best to impersonate Glastonbury and offer a deluge of epic proportions followed by naked mudwrestling. Apparently he has bought himself a scooter to get himself around. I thought that he would have had a gyrocopter, or more appropriately a jet ski, but he likes to keep his feet on terra-firma. Oh, really!

Neil has been on good form, ably assisted in the studio this summer by Tai, Jonny, Rudi and Wesley Thomas. He even managed to seem relaxed a certain points. There was a tricky moment at dinner one evening. We were at the dessert stage as Sergio was out walking the dogs. As he wandered past, Neil scooped up the aptly named “Bon-Bon”, I have captured the moment where Neil went to swallow him whole, sadly Bon-Bon was not best pleased; clearly suffering from little dog syndrome.

Bon Bon Snack

The first few days were spent in the company of a bevy of lovely young ladies.

Me and 4 girls alone on a boat with my reputation?

They were here to party hard. A little VIP with David Guetta at Pasha, Ushuaia, Glitterbox at Boom, Space, Blue Marlin and finally a little Amnesia, which is probably what was needed. And OK, perhaps I shared the best part of a bottle of Vodka with myself, whilst talking to Oleg next to me who by all accounts is a worse dancer than I am.

Pasha VIP

Bevy

The boat was thanks to another Neil, this time at BoatsIbiza. We spent the day with Phil and Tracy aboard their Sunseeker. A little trip round Es Vedra, a couple of bays, lunch at a beach restaurant, finishing with a Sunset in the bay in front of Café del Mar. I cannot recommend them highly enough, it was a day to remember.

http://www.boatsibiza.com

Neil has offered a 5% discount to anyone contacting him and mentioning our recommendation.

Our Funseeker

Swimming at Es Vedra

Magical Es Vedra

Cafe del Mar Sunset

I’m not the only one who has been away.

Perseus has a new job and hence is on “gardening leave”. Apparently Emi wants this, but without changing jobs. By all accounts Perseus is counting windmills on Mykonos, or something like that. The things people do that pass for fun! He will no doubt return, his legs as white as snow. The rest of him will have changed colour, marginally. He’ll bitch about everything, but that’s his way and I love him for it; I think if he were a cocktail, he’d be “Caustic Soda”. In his words, he’s so “Beefcake”, a walking barbecue flavoured tortilla chip.

The football season has started again. Millions have been spent, and has it changed anything? The lottery of who will get Luis “Gummy Bear” Suarez has been answered. To cap it all, he’ll be filling a hole in the middle, bridging the gap to attack, and probably scoring a brace.

Poor little Wayne has had more responsibility heaped upon those already hunched shoulders, running round like a Chinese crested dog, steam coming out of his ears. Apparently he thought by becoming captain he would get a uniform and a cap with badges on it. Super Mario is back, and has intimated that he wants me to make all his clothes for him. No, no, no. This is a man who can’t put a training bib on, and fails miserably time after time to get his hat on the right way round.

I already have a very mad, high maintenance customer who phones me from all over the world in order that I tell him what to wear, this was topped off recently, by having to explain to him what going “commando” meant. He didn’t get it first or second time, and I certainly wasn’t going to demonstrate via Skype.

So with Mario I don’t even want to do something as complicated as buttons.

Shortly we will be inundated with new stock, but until that point you will have to read about all of my exploits as I travel far and wide in search of the next legal high. There are a few of you who have attempted to tempt me with something a little less straight laced, but I will always refuse, unless it has an alcohol base.

Mr Portillo has a new series coming up. I’m sworn to secrecy, but apparently that’s the gist of it. It will be coming to a small screen near you very soon.

And of course soon I’ll have my new iphone XXVI. However I will sign of this newsletter with a last Sunset from Iibza.

Another Ibiza Sunset

Sent from my iphone XXV

Mid April 2013 – Newsletter

Posted on April 19, 2013 by volpeadrian

As the book is started, and the characters are developed, there is one who freely admits he hasn’t progressed beyond childhood, my cup now runneth over and my creative juices are flowing once again. I could crush a grape! Stop pouring Vash.

Looks like there is another book about me doing the rounds. In it, I am painted as something of a Peter Pan character, with the attributes of Captain Hook, and none of those of Mary Poppins. I’ve heard it is one of the greatest works of fiction ever written. I think its title is “The Life I Never Led”. Tick – tock, tick – tock.

Ever the optimist I will wait for the sequel, it will be quite a challenge to improve on the last one, and I think most of the character development of those involved in the original has been exhausted. So as Tim Robbins said, perhaps I should write two (news) letters a week.

The book will easily transfer to a film. As always Tom Cruise will be aching to play me, but I will have to choose carefully. Perhaps this time, a gritty British actor, I see endless possibilities ahead. Gerard Butler almost has the body, but that inpenetr… accent of his, means that whatever I try to get across in my strange written style will be further lost by his delivery. Or Jason Statham, who comes close, but is always after my ideas for his next suit. I could choose Brando, but then the resemblance would be uncanny, and I love ice cream, especially the dark chocolate one, called Fondente from La Carraia in Florence. Oh, how I miss that.

Versions of the screenplay will appear, but it should have been written by Harold Pinter, sadly he is on a rather long pause; the music by? Certainly not, he’s really out of favour, and I couldn’t stand the wife constantly interfering in my life and affairs. And sadly Richard is no longer around to critique it. How I miss our chats together. He would have constantly corrected my grammar, but I would never have minded.

By now you’ve all read my Ibiza exploits, the tattoos are healing nicely. Not like last time, when 6 hours in Lycra hot pants meant they took an age to heal. Perhaps wearing the mankini at the same time to travel back in didn’t help either. I don’t want to make Neil that angry again, but I’ll do anything to wave my glo’stick at the night sky.

The dog days of summer will soon be with us. Already people are casting off their winter shells, hibernation is over. The cast that has been attacking your cashmere has become a moth, and fluttered off to lay its eggs and destroy another garment. An exasperated customer told me recently that she had lost so much cashmere to moths, that she was going with her kids to the Butterfly House at Syon Park, to allow them to exact their own form of revenge!

That said we should go back to La Carraia. Oh, yes I should, oh no you shouldn’t, oh stop it. My life is not a pantomime no matter what you think. Anyway, on my last visit to Florence, I can’t say when, it was for legal reasons; they delivered a bath load of Fondente, to my hotel. It’s great for the skin, if not for the waistline. Well I did have to eat my way out.

Some are given to bathing in donkeys (yes I know it’s as*$#s) milk, well I couldn’t possibly comment? No really it would be rude to insult their intelligence. I preferred to bath in the rich cool chocolatiness of Fondente. Attached is a photo. Yes I know there is another flavour, it is Fior di Panna. There were photos of me in the bath, but I wanted you to read to the end of this, rather than swoon at this point, so they were omitted.

Ever reminded of Frankie Howerd, I always want to shout “Up Pompeii” each time someone crosses my path. Well OK, up something, but once again we must be sympathetic to spam filters, theirs is a joyless existence. Stopping this, restricting that, what has the world come to! Anyway that’s why I couldn’t post the photos of me in the bath.

My friends can post photos of themselves snorkelling without clothes in the alpine snow. It was absinthe, m’lud, not abstinence that did it. The little green light at the bottom of the bottle said, go, go, go. And so I did. At this point I will introduce a link to a friend’s blog. Gehan writes the Martini Mandate, give it a go, you’ll enjoy it: www.martinimandate.com

Perhaps the Ibiza exploits don’t seem quite so bad now. Eugene and Ina are back in Copenhagen. If you are ever there and are looking for a coffee, his is the place to go. We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when. Oh yes we do, oh no we don’t, oh give it a rest! We will reminisce, swap stories and then start the party all over again. Hopefully this time with a full compliment.

Real life continues no matter what fantasies I create for myself. Last weekend I went to see Oblivion, just to see if TC was up to playing me. Apparently it was shot in Iceland. The scenery was breath-taking, so I will be booking a trip to see the aurora borealis, be TC and eat whale blubber, any takers?

Eventually even I have to stop tapping the keyboard, but I do have to mention Jake. As many of you who follow football have sympathised with him, he is now sobbing gently under the stairs, when the mighty Wolves are meekly heading for oblivion.

Sent from my new super duper ipad

March 2013 – Volpe Newsletter update

Posted on April 5, 2013 by volpeadrian

This one will be easier to understand, I am too tired to be cryptic, and I’ve put a few photos on the blog site. You know a picture paints a thousand words, and all that!

It had been a toss-up between surf and ski, but given all the cold weather we’ve had, it wasn’t a difficult choice.

So I’m back from Ibiza, and I used Ryanair €17. Don’t know what I was moaning about, sadly Stansted isn’t exactly on my doorstep. The worst part of the journey was the one hour and fifteen minutes it took to get through border control this end!

Anyway, I got the job done. Shoes were collected, tattooing underway, fitting done, and now I can sleep soundly, probably for a week after Sunday’s villa party.

The villa was like all villas in Ibiza, at the end of a very long gravel track. It had started to rain when we arrived, and when we left at 5.30 am it was still raining, but this is Ibiza where nothing stops a good party and it was a very good party.

Eugene went out to take some air, and whilst wandering round the garden managed to disconnect the power supply, and all the lights went out at Pacha, 10 miles away! Neil managed to lose his special red bandana (towel) that was wrapped round his head, and me? Well, I was wandering sideways like a crab. I would insert a photo here, but at this point we were a little too far gone.

A big thank you to the guy who drove us home, it was one of the random acts of kindness. OK, it involved a long walk down another gravel track in search of a car, but we got there in the end.

Once home, Neil went to sleep on the sofa, Ina went to bed, and Eugene and I climbed up to roof terrace to watch the sun come up (it had stopped raining), and to drink a little more! Here is a photo of Eugene emulating Icarus. I ended up going to sleep at 8am.

But we were up fresh as daisies at midday to go for lunch, and off we headed to Cala Jondal for a bite on the beach. The sun came out; it warmed up, 22C and a bit of a breeze. Jealous, I would be!

Scratch joined up with us for dinner, she’d sensibly slept through the rest of the partying. Just as well, she might have found the pool at the villa a little too tempting!

You may think that suddenly I’m posting loads of photos of my exploits on the blog site. Let me remind you it is mine and I can do what I want.

So I will leave you with one last photo, which to me encapsulates (I did spell check it), Ibiza and that amongst all the mayhem, some beauty remains. Since I was last there some restaurants have closed, some more clubs have opened, but the essence of the island remains. You just need to get away from the hustle and bustle.

And I will leave you with one last thought. If certain substances are your flavour, be warned, a friend of mine who has a house in the centre of Ibiza saw a local person scraping white paint off a wall with a car key, not everything is what it seems! Do you think it would get you plastered?

March 2013 – Volpe Newsletter

Posted on March 30, 2013 by volpeadrian

March Newsletter 2013

Let’s get the weather out of the way first. It has been very, very cold and very, very grey and I know we are all fed up with it. Those of you who have managed to get away will mean once again I am deluged with “Out of Office” replies.

However have you thought that the minute the sun bursts forth, the too tight t-shirt, Birkenstocks, shorts and hairy leg brigade will be out in force? Not in such a hurry for the first shafts of sunlight now methinks.

OK, so I’m getting this one out a little early, but I’m off to Ibiza, and given the state I might be in, it might make even less sense than normal. Is that an incredible Burt Wonderstone mushroom I see before me? Quick call the police. On second thoughts no, the first two albums were OK, but then Stu started chucking drumsticks. Good shot! I will never play their music in the shop again. Well apart from Peanuts, but I have my reasons.

For those of you who read and remember my newsletters, my ‘D’ list celebrity friend is now a street artist on the island. There is a little patch of concrete by the marina where he plies his trade. He will be painted aubergine it’s this summer’s hot colour! He just lies there prone like a strange shaped vegetable, either that or he fell asleep and people started dropping coins onto his pile of clothes. He was trying to fashion one of those ‘fakir’ poses whereby he looked suspended in mid-air, but then the stick broke! Gone are the days of Panto, glitter and glamour.

Remember, I have no ‘A’ or ‘B’ list celebrity friends or customers, but we did have someone wear one our suits in “Skyfall”. It was only confirmed recently so I didn’t want to tempt fate.

To some it may seem I am a little too loose tongued in my newsletters, but I choose my topics carefully. I have a huge ego, so it’s all about me as you know too well, and now I have started a book about my colourful life. I shall not be inviting Wazzer Rooney to ghost write it.

Ibiza you ask. Well, I gave in, I was going to leave this trip until the end of May, but given the weather here, I couldn’t delay it any longer. It is for work! We are tattooing leather for a couple of clients, so I’m going to drop some off and pick some up, and do a fitting for a suit. Neil is carving skulls, plus clouds, some lotus flowers, perhaps even a butterfly into the shoes of the good and the great.

Charlie will be so pleased to get his shoes back, that’s such an Ibiza name isn’t it? Photos will be available on the blog, and on Facebook, for those of you who are allowed accounts.

I may add to my collection, but the customer always comes first. In my case it will not be shoes, it will be tattoos of the flesh. Neil thinks my latest design is a little effeminate, not the word he used, but I think this way is a little more polite. I’ll run it past Eugene he’s driven down from Copenhagen to spend a few days. There is a bar in the marina where a drink is named after him, and after my last visit when we were all together in September, I have absolutely no idea what it was called, or maybe I just can’t remember! If I call you at 5am to wake you, just ignore me.

One thing I can guarantee is that we won’t be sleeping a lot, but will I don the mankini? I think it will be Pacha, Amnesia, Pacha, Amnesia, Pacha, Amnesia. Sorry where was I? Then I won’t be able to pass up a foam party, and head off delirious to DC10 where I shall jump up and down trying to grab the undercarriage of incoming planes. You know I’m high on life.

Stop press…. Mateo can’t make it he will be spending Easter with the lovely Cristina, so the mankini will be mine! But, Martin from Argentina will be there, now the wheels will certainly come off. I have photos of him snorkelling in the snow in Verbier, wearing nothing more than a smile. At least that’s what it seemed like, but it was hard to tell it was so cold and he was face down. As a very good friend of mine would say “Bere”, it’s a great shame that on this occasion she won’t be joining us, hopefully next time.

I’ll be back Tuesday night, with Ryanair!!!!!! I know, never say never. It was the only way I could get back to meet some friends who are coming from Italy for a month to learn English, but I will not be teaching them, I shall leave that to a professional.

With regard to last month, some of you were a little confused about the 24 not 22 comment, and one or two of you gave some quite surprising suggestions. Let me lay rumours to rest. The 24 bus takes me from home to Vash and back again, and the 22 goes past The Wolseley, I use the 24 not the 22. Thank you for the flattering remarks.

I supply the newsletter in printed form, in a plain brown envelope to one particular lady (she views me as her toy boy, she is after all hmmmm years old), because she says, and I quote “she finds them a little racy”. Once read they are shredded so hubby doesn’t see them. Well hush my mouth I didn’t think I was being that particular shade of grey. Let’s just hope she can cope with the book I’ve just given her as a present.

And finally and this is not a joke. We are now offering a new service we are hand washing and finishing your knitwear, so you can store all your cashmere and merino wool for the summer months, when they finally arrive. There will be a small charge, but I know that many of you are a little worried by the prospect of looking after your cashmere, so I thought this might help you.

To err is human to forgive is? Well sometimes forgiveness is deserved, sometimes earned, but should be given with an open heart. Gandhi said that the weak can never forgive; forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.

Photographs of the trip will follow upon my return!