BLOKEt h e m e n ' s m a g a z i n e l i k e n o o t h e r

BLOKE C o n t e n t sTweeting

Tailor

How one

man is

combining

the

tailoring

traditions

of the past with the social

media buzz of today to create

a unique business.

Wax On, Wax Off

Secreted away in London’s

Park Lane is a man that is

keeping the traditional shoe

shine flag flying whilst adding

his own modern twist.

Bonjour

Monsieur

If you blink

you could

miss it. But

this tiny

shop near

Pall Mall is

a haven of

style and

elan.

Behind the

Welt

Residing right

in the heart of

Northampton’s

shoe-making

tradition, Loake

continues to

impress.

Objects of Desire

The Tesla is more than a car; it

is an iPad…on wheels…and

on steroids.

Gentleman's Corner

Before you fire off that email,

take a moment and read up on

communications etiquette for

the 21st Century.

Reading Matter

As if The Bloke

wasn’t reading

enough for one

man, we offer

you some

more reading

delights.

Man of the

Hour

You can keep

your models

and celebrities.

For real style,

you need a real

Bloke.

BLOKE L e a d e rIt is embarrassing to launch a new magazine with an apology but we feel we must. For the issue

you are about to read is roughly six months late. Unfortunately, our original publishing partner

got cold feet about two days before we were due to hit the print button back in January and we

have been treading water ever since.

But, all good things come to he who waits. We came up with the concept of The Bloke having

become increasingly frustrated by mass media’s refusal to cover fashion, style and interests of

anyone over the age of about 35. We had grown tired of seeing anyone with a beard dismissed

as (a) a hipster or (b) an ageing hippy. And we had long since grown weary of being told that a

skeleton-cum-model or footballer with more tattoos than fashion sense is a new style icon. From

those petty frustrations, The Bloke was born.

The name of the magazine was inspired partly from the fact that “he’s a well-dressed bloke” is,

perhaps, the highest compliment I have ever paid another man; and partly by the fact that this

was the nickname given to my father by his father. But it goes beyond that. Within the pages

that follow, you will find no celebrities, no models and no football players. You will find no big-

name brands or ludicrous advertising campaigns featuring pentapeptides or chiselled men

diving from rocky cliff faces. And you will find no scantily-clad models or D-list celebrities – This

is the 21st Century – Deal with it.

Instead, we have tried to bring you affordable and attainable products worn by and used by real

men (and, for the record, REAL men to us are neither gay nor straight….they’re just men. They

are Blokes).

If and when we feature men, they will be just that – Fresh off the nearest demolition site,

just back from the office, or juggling work and family life like the majority of men. So, sorry once

again for the delay, and thanks for the patience of those that stood by us through what has been

a prolonged and troublesome birth. We hope the pages that follow were worth the wait.

The Bloke

EditorialMark Anthony - Mark Anthony Publicitymarkanthony@markanthonypublicity.co.uk07973 456 166

Advertising Sales ExecutiveBusiness DevelopmentBen Chambersben@demolitionnews.com01903 538432

General Enquiries07973 456 166

Publisher Mark Anthony

CirculationMark Anthony - Mark Anthony Publicitymarkanthony@markanthonypublicity.co.uk07973 456 166

Production, design & reproductionBarry Morgan - Down to a Fine Artbarrymorgan2@hotmail.com07539 259 737

Published by Bloke Publications9 William Evans Road, Manor Park, Epsom KT19 7DFmarkanthony@markanthonypublicity.co.uk07973 456 166

Bloke is published 6 times a year by Bloke Publications.

The subscription rate is £60 per year. Subscription recordsare maintained at Bloke Publications9 William Evans Road, Manor Park, Epsom KT19 7DF

Articles and information contained in this publication arethe copyright of Bloke Publications and may not bereproduced in any form without the written permission ofthe publishers.

The publishers cannot accept responsibility for loss of, ordamage to, uncommissioned photographs ormanuscripts.

BLOKE O b j e c t o f D e s i r e

T h e T w e e t i n g T a i l o r

The Bloke meets Tweeting

Tailor Adrian Barrows, an

artisan for the Internet

age.

Adrian Barrows home office

looks, for all the world, like the

headquarters of an

advertising agency or search

engine optimisation outfit.

Barrows is clad in dress-down

Friday casual combats and a

t-shirt; his hair cropped Bond-

villain short.

The walls are pure white,

unadorned, distraction-free.

And on the desk sits a wide

screen Apple computer that

slowly but steadily feeds

Twitter messages downwards

like electronic cloth on a

modernist loom.

The minimalist and futuristic

feel comes as no surprise, for

Barrows is widely known in

social media circles as the

Tweeting Tailor.

Indeed it is a combination of

word of mouth and social

media that led me to Barrows'

office in the first place.

For my 30th birthday, my wife

- the long-suffering Mrs Bloke

- paid for me to have a suit

handmade to my own

specifications.

The resulting suit, a gorgeous

single-breasted, grey pinstripe

number, remains a mainstay of

my wardrobe almost 20 years

later; its classic lines

seemingly untroubled by the

passage of time and fashion.

Looking at it now, however, I

can see where I went wrong.

The jacket pockets aren't

quite right.

Likewise, the cuffs might have

been finished better.

And, although I might be

mistaken, I don't recall even

being consulted on the colour

of the lining.

Throughout the consultation,

measure, fit and finish of that

suit, my tailor insisted on

calling me Sir even after I had

asked him to use my first

name.

At the time, this struck me as

misplaced deference. With

the benefit of hindsight, I now

see it as stand-offishness; an

unspoken reticence to

connect and interact.

But for all the modernist and

futuristic trappings of the

office, Barrows remains a man

very much in touch with the

Edwardian origins of his trade.

His attention to details speaks

of a time before off-the-peg

suiting.

And when the consultation-

cum-interrogation comes to

an end, he takes my

measurements in imperial

inches, not millimetres.

Technology may have brought

me here, but it is the trade

heritage that led me to

entrust the Tweeting Tailor

with the impossible task of

cladding me in a suit sharp

enough to detract from the

parlous state of the body

beneath.

HISTORY REPEATING

Although my wardrobe

contains several disposable

high street suits, this is not my

first journey down the

bespoke road.

My first journey was not an

entirely happy experience and

I am keen not to repeat

previous mistakes.

BLOKE

Perhaps that's why I ended up

with a suit made from heavy

cloth and equally heavy lining

that is really only appropriate

when the name of the month

ends in "uary".

This time will be different. I

arrive armed with clear ideas

on how my suit is to look. The

width of the lapels and

trouser bottoms is clear in my

mind, as are my desire for

surgeon's cuffs, straight

pockets, contrasting lining,

side vents and no break in the

trousers. But before the

discussion comes the analysis.

SUBTLE INTERROGATION

Adrian Barrows has an easy-

to-like personality, a quick

sense of humour and an easy

conversation style coloured by

a West Midlands accent.

Almost an hour has passed

before we even mention the

word suit.

In that time, I have learnt

about his love of Cornwall by

caravan holidays and the fact

that one of his dogs is about

to undergo hydrotherapy for a

"wobbly knee".

He speaks freely about his

clients - Premiership

footballers, demolition men,

Paralympians and city whizz

kids - without naming any of

them.

For all I know, he has taken a

client-tailor oath to ensure

that the secrets of their inside

leg measurements are never

leaked to the tabloid press.

But the giving of information

is far outweighed by the

gathering.

Long before we have even

looked at a cloth swatch,

Barrows has extracted details

of my working and personal

life, the better to judge my

precise clothing needs.

He knows that I spend a lot of

time in the car and on trains;

he knows that my suit needs

to be equally at home in the

boardroom, a nightclub, or a

family wedding; he knows that

I have a couple of tattoos that

are positioned to be visible

only to Mrs Bloke and the

mirror. All of this informs his

guidance when we start to

discuss the suit itself.

LOPSIDED STANCE

The measuring process is

precise and unobtrusive but

what is more telling is the

measuring that takes place

after he has set down his tape

measure.

He eyes me up and down,

looking for (and, sadly, finding)

any lop-sidedness in my

stance; he quickly identifies

the fact that I carry a bulky

iPhone in my trouser pocket;

and homes in on my love of

cufflinks. All of this is taken

into account in a leather-

bound notebook.

We then move on to the

subject of cloth.

Having taken the road marked

conservative the last time a

tailor took my measurements,

I arrived with visions of

fluorescent pink linings, peak

lapels and unique pockets

fluttering through my head.

But now, seeing the sheer

breadth of cloths on offer, I am

overwhelmed by the need for

a suit for all seasons; a suit

that will stand out in a crowd

while not being remarkable

enough to make it a one-wear

pony.

In the end, I opt for a fine navy

blue cloth and pale blue

lining.

But the suit will ultimately

carry my personal stamp.

The surgeon’s cuffs – all the

better to show off those

cufflinks my dear – are put on

the to-do list, along with flat

front and fishtail back of the

trousers and the contrasting

buttonhole.

All of this, and much, much

more, goes into Barrows’

notebook.

How that will be transferred

through his brain via a sewing

machine and into a wearable

suit of clothes remains to be

seen.

To be continued…

BLOKE P l a t e s o f M e a t

W a x o n , W a x o f fThe Bloke visits the London Hilton on Park Lane to meet

Steven Skippen, one of the last true practitioners of a

dying art.

Mention the word shoeshine

and most people’s mind will

conjure an image of fast-

talking street hustlers clad in

braces and flat caps, their

patter and repartee as much a

part of their trade as their

ability to put a sheen on the

footwear of passing strangers.

Well forget that. While that

approach might still be found

on the streets of New York and

in Hollywood movies, the

modern shoeshine man is a

very different animal.

Steven Skippen is dressed

from head to toe in Johnny

Cash black complete with

waistcoat bearing his

Shoeshine UK logo that lends

him the air of a misplaced and

sponsored snooker player.

He doesn’t wear a hat or

braces, he is sporting a decent

growth of designer stubble,

and his patter is more West

End hotel discreet than in-

your-face-Manhattan-street-

corner.

This is shoeshine as service,

not entertainment.

WORKING CLASS ETHOS

I have never had my shoes

shined before, save for a time

when a kid of about 12

insisted on shining my trainers

on a Bourbon Street corner in

New Orleans.

My father was a chauffeur for

whom shoe polishing was

both Sunday night ritual and

pre-work therapy, a genetic

trait that I inherited without

even noticing.

Perhaps that working class

ethos is also to blame for my

reticence to having my shoes

shined by someone else – I

have just never felt like I have

earned the right to look down

upon another man while he

buffs shoes that I am too lazy

and self-important to shine

myself.

Skippen has tackled this issue

head on. While traditional

shoeshiners place their

customers on a pedestal,

Skippen’s set-up places him

virtually eye-to-eye with his

clients, shifting the feeling

from one of master and

servant to something more

akin to buying a drink at a bar.

And while he is endlessly

polite, his conversation is less

deferential and more “doing

anything nice this weekend”

barber shop banter.

All of this, combined with our

mutual love of shoes and the

shoeshiners’ art, quickly puts

me at my ease.

Mere minutes into my first

ever shoeshine, the leather

seat feels like it was made to

accommodate my rear; and

Steven Skippen feels like my

new best friend; admittedly a

new best friend who is

cradling my brogue booted

feet.

THE POWER OF THE THUMB

The first thing you notice

about Skippen’s approach to

shoeshining is the lack of

equipment.

Oh sure, he has brushes of

every size, shape and colour

laid out neatly on the floor

beside him.

BLOKE

But for the duration of my

shine, they remain resolutely

in their rightful place on the

floor while Skippen adorns my

shoes with layer after layer of

conditioner, wax and polish

using nothing more technical

than his thumb.

“A brush is fine for removing

dust and dirt, but the secret to

a good shine and to the care

of the shoe is to ensure that

the wax penetrates the

leather,” he explains.

“The heat from my thumb

together with the moisture in

my fingers effectively works

like a traditional spit and

polish, ensuring the wax

penetrates the leather for a

deep, long-lasting shine.”

Bootlaces removed, Skippen

works his way across the

entire upper of my boots; not

a square inch of leather goes

untouched by his ever-busy

thumb.

And just when you think it’s

time for that final, theatrical

buffing flourish, he reaches for

yet another canister or

container of fluid with which

to adorn and anoint my shoes

in something akin to a deep

tissue massage for footwear.

By the time he has finished

applying, reapplying and

applying lotions and potions,

my boots look parade-ground

ready to my untrained eye.

But Skippen has one more

treat in store.

Having performed something

akin to reflexology on my tan

boots, he then ups the fetish

ante by reaching for a pair of

the women’s tights he uses for

the final buffing.

And even here, the style is all

his own.

There is no tow-handed

sawing action; this is more of

a caress to tease every last

ounce of shine from the

leather.

Admittedly, the boots are less

than six months old.

But as I emerge into the Park

Lane sunshine once more,

they seem to glow, the

toecaps seemingly shellacked.

And just before I descend into

the underpass, my boots

lighting my way, I am sure I

saw a woman squint, dazzled

by the glare from my

footwear.

Seriously, if you have feet, if

you have a pair of shoes

worthy of the attention, and if

you find yourself in London,

you owe it to your footwear to

pay Skippen a visit.

BLOKE S t u f f

B o n j o u r

The Bloke visited the

recently-opened Monsieur

London outlet in Royal

Opera House Arcade in

West London.

He returned sporting

a look of pained

covetousness.

The hinterlands between

London's Lower Regent Street

and Pall Mall are not a regular

haunt for the bloke about

town or closet dandy, falling as

it does in the shadow of the

Institute of Directors, a

monument to grey suited

conformity.

But, thanks to the opening of

Monsieur London's new outlet

at the end of the nearby Royal

Opera Arcade, this previously

barren style wasteland has

been at least partially

transformed into a haven of

style and French panache.

For while the shop is smaller

than some changing rooms I

have rattled about in, it

manages to cram in pretty

much 360 degrees of

covetable items.

Seriously, if you were spun

around in the store with your

eyes closed and then forced to

purchase the first item your

eyes alighted upon, chances

are you'd still leave happy.

(This probably works best,

however, if you share The

Bloke’s love of luxury ties, hats

and scarves).

M o n s i e u rARTISTIC ABANDON

Monsieur London has very

smartly turned the

online/bricks and mortar retail

experience on its head. The

company comes from an

online background and, save

for a few high profile pop-ups

in London and Paris in the

past, this is its first static shop.

And it’s a mini triumph. The

tiny shop is styled like the

Parisian apartment we all

secretly covet. Polished wood

flooring, random and eclectic

furniture, and wall-to-wall

wearables strewn about with

artistic abandon.

And the reason it works so

well – attentive French-born

staff aside – is that you get to

touch and feel the quality of

the merchandise; a pleasure

still impossible from an online

shopping experience.

Online, the company’s

Olderfleet blue tie looks just

like any navy blue tie on offer

from countless on and offline

retailers.

But when you get to hold it,

you realise that the 100%

Grenadine silk makes this a tie

apart, with a weight and

thickness that would make a

four-in-hand knot every bit as

imposing and stylish as an

expertly-tied Windsor.

This is the sort of tie you

could wear to work, formally

and informally and year-

round, and no-one would

mind.

The felt hats, similarly, need to

be tried and caressed to

understand just why they

should be a part of your

wardrobe.

BLOKE

Sourced from the point in

France that is just an Ole from

the Spanish border where

traditional hat making still

thrives, these hats come in

just about every hue you can

imagine on the “practical to

statement” scale. And while

the bottle green number

might only get an outing,

perhaps, once in a year, it

would be a truly memorable

outing.

Incidentally, this is the first

time that a shop assistant

under the age of 40 has ever

correctly worked out my hat

size with nothing more than a

glance at my over-sized

noggin. These garcons know

their apples.

IF THE GLOVE FITS...

The belts, which can be made

to measure, are sourced here

in the UK – from that bastion

of the leatherman’s trade,

Walthamstow – and are of the

type worn by those irritatingly

stylish French, Spanish and

Italian gents that seem to

consume flair for breakfast.

And the gloves! Ah, the

gloves. I have a personal

hang-up about men’s gloves.

While women’s gloves are

fitted and available in a

veritable rainbow of colours

and textures, men’s gloves

generally come in black and

the type of brown that

accessorises nothing aside

from soil and which have

seemingly been stolen from a

passing wicket keeper.

The gloves on offer at

Monsieur London are a

different beast altogether.

The Bragelonne plum formal

gloves hark back to an

Edwardian idyll in which

gloves were held as well as

worn, such was their luxury

and status.

All in all, Monsieur London is

the sort of shop in which you

could drop a monkey (that’s

spend £500 to those

unfortunate enough to have

been born outside London),

leave with nothing more than

a small bag of accessories, and

be quite happy about it.

The Bloke says: Yes,you can

buy all this stuff (and more)

on line at

http://en.monsieurlondon.com.

But do yourself a favour and

go stroke the goods in person.

Better still are the Treville grey

racing-style gloves retail at a

London-reasonable £134 but

are likely to cost you

considerably more as you’ll

almost certainly want a

convertible sports car to pair

them with.

All the gloves are already

fitted but if you want them

REALLY fitted, the company

will shortly be offering a

custom-fit option on its glove

range based upon a pair of

handprints.

BLOKE P l a t e s o f M e a t

Imagine being shown around

Upton Park by Bobby Moore

(for this to work, you probably

need to be a West Ham fan

with a belief in the afterlife).

Or imagine being invited to

“jam” with Jack White; or

taking boxing lessons from

Muhammad Ali when he still

answered to the name Cassius

Clay.

B e h i n d t h e W e l t

The Bloke visited the

Northampton factory of

shoemaker Loake to find a

company rooted in

tradition but with its

future very much in tune

with the needs of the

modern gentleman.

Well that is pretty much the

feeling I experienced when I

was invited for a tour of the

famous Loake factory in

Kettering under the tutelage

of Andrew Loake; a fourth

generation shoemaker and (as

it transpired) closet guitar

aficionado.

Loake admits that the factory

rarely sees visitors other than

retailers and overseas dealers

arriving to look over the new

season’s show line or to

haggle over prices.

But he quickly warmed to the

task, combining the guided

tour of the factory with an

insight into the shoemakers’

art and a history lesson on a

quintessentially English

company.

How English, you say?

As English as a country

garden.

As English as rainy summers,

xenophobia and sarcasm.

If this boot could speak, it

would sound like Terry

Thomas and its first words

would be “I say.”

If this boot were a meal, it

would be roast beef served

with lashings of English

mustard.

If this boot landed in a foreign

country, it would promptly

stick a flag in it and claim it

for the Queen.

STITCHED UP

For all my love of my personal

shoes of choice, I had never

really given too much thought

about the painstaking work

that goes into their

manufacture.

I didn’t realise, for example,

that each pair takes roughly

eight weeks to produce.

Nor did I realise that insect

bites, veins and other

remnants of the leather’s

previous life as a cow’s

overcoat might influence how

(or even whether) a shoe is

made.

What sets Loake shoes apart

from lesser footwear that

graces the high street is the

Goodyear welted design that

has been an intrinsic part of

the Loake range for some 130

years.

Gordon

Underwood, final

examiner at

Loake Bros.

Photo

John Robinson

BLOKE Perhaps surprisingly, the

Goodyear Welt has nothing to

do with tyres. The “welt” is, in

fact, a strip of leather that is

sewn around the bottom edge

of a shoe.

This stitching (the welt seam)

attaches the welt to both the

insole and the upper of the

shoe. The welt is folded out to

form a point of attachment for

the outer sole. The outer sole

is sewn to the welt, with a

heavy-duty lock-stitch seam.

What does all this mean to the

wearer? Simply, it means that

the stitching runs around the

outside of the sole rather than

piercing the part under the

foot, maximising the sole’s

water-resistance and ensuring

that your feet remain as dry as

a camel’s humour.

REASSURINGLY EXPENSIVE

My lasting impression of the

factory, however, was that I

had been allowed a sneak

peek behind the curtain and a

glimpse of the past: a past

where quality outweighed

quantity; where fashion was

transient while style was

permanent.

According to Andrew Loake, an

average pair of men’s shoes

today costs around £45.

Loake is spending that much

on raw materials alone; and

that’s before the craftsmen,

artisans and elves have

weaved their magic.

Yes, Loake shoes are more

expensive. And for good

reason. They are an

investment; one that – with

the correct care – could last

you 20 or even 30 years.

If you are the type of man that

strives to be “cool”, the Loake

range may not be for you.

If, however, you appreciate

quality and understand style,

then there is no better

destination for your footwear

spend.

Loake specialises in shoes that

your father or even

grandfather might have worn.

And, until Rolls Royce supplies

its cars with flared arches or

the Queen delivers her

Christmas Day speech as a

gangster rap, that – frankly - is

precisely as it should be.

BLOKE O b j e c t o f D e s i r eBLOKE O b j e c t o f D e s i r e

Let’s face it. Just about every

man with a fully functioning

set of testicles and an

indifference towards show

tunes and the career of Lady

Gaga secretly craves a

supercar. Sure they’re scarily

impractical and butt-

clenchingly expensive but

they’re also a statement; a

statement that beats its chest

and proclaims “I am man, hear

me roar”.

I t ’ s E l e c t r i f y i n g !

The Bloke gets behind the wheel of

a Tesla Model S electric supercar

and is left with a serious case of

car envy and a smidgeon of

environmental smugness.

Nobody tunes in to Top Gear to

check out the ashtray styling

features of the new Suzuki

Liana; they tune in to see

Clarkson and his cohorts

driving supercars sideways

around corners, shredding tyres

and punching a Ferrari-shaped

hole in the ozone layer.

However, just recently, the

desirability of supercars has

faced a dual threat.

On the one hand are the

environmentalists that look

upon the ownership of a car

developing more than 75

horsepower as some dolphin-

bludgeoning, neo-Fascist

threat to global harmony.

On the other are women who

advertising moguls have led

us to believe are struck down

with involuntary nudity and

lust by the sight of a prancing

horse logo but who, in fact,

regularly dismiss these

engineering marvels as a

“penis extension”.

SO FAR, SO SUPERCAR

But now from the supercar

backwater that is the United

States of America comes a

new breed of car that will

appeal equally to macho men,

tree-hugging

environmentalists and

bra-burning feminists alike.

Totally electric-powered –

there’s none of that hybrid

nonsense here – the Tesla

Model S boasts a level of

performance to make

seasoned Ferrari engineers

weep into their spaghetti

vongole.

BLOKE In disconcerting silence, the

Tesla Model S zips from 0 to

60 mph in just 4.2 seconds

before powering to a top

speed of somewhere North of

200 mph in a smooth, gear-

changeless surge.

So far, so supercar; but the

power and performance of the

Model S is the tip of a game-

changing iceberg that will

redefine the car.

For one thing, there’s the

battery. Guaranteed for eight

years, the lithium power cell

affords the supercar with a

range of 600 regular driving

miles on a single charge.

Even when driven Clarkson-

style, owners have sufficient

juice to drive from London to

Birmingham and back without

the inconvenience of

recharging.

When a recharge is required,

the battery shifts from empty

to half full in under 30 minutes

thanks to the Tesla

supercharger system.

And that “fuel” comes free of

charge at the majority of UK

public charging stations.

That’s the tree-huggers happy

then.

So what about the ladies?

Well, for one thing, there’s no

engine in the Tesla and no

engine means not one but two

boots in which to store shoes,

make-up, hair and beauty

products and salad.

Despite the supercar

performance credentials, the

Tesla is also a family car,

switching from five to seven

seats with an ingenious

design that folds two

additional seats from beneath

the rear boot space.

If the men manage to wrestle

the keys from the ladies’

grasp, there is sufficient room

in the rear boot for a full set of

golf bats, the front boot better

suited to storing the argyle

sweaters and pimp trousers

that are a prerequisite to a

good walk spoiled.

Inside the car itself, the ladies

can content themselves by

checking their emails, surfing

the web and buying more

shoes on Asos via the 17 inch

touchscreen display that

doubles as a sat nav and

reversing camera display and

system diagnostic and control

panel.

IPAD ON WHEELS

But to concentrate on the

fixtures and fittings of the

Tesla Model S is like

discussing the leg room in a

Stealth Bomber.

For the Model S is WAY beyond

a car. It is a design and

engineering marvel; it is an

iPad on wheels and on

steroids; it is the future right

now.

If the thought of driving an

iPad leaves you cold (and if it

does, you need to get back to

your cave painting), then you

seriously need to give this a

try.

The lack of engine and

gearbox has also left room for

more innovation than you can

shake a large, expensive stick

at.

In addition to ensuring you

can find the nearest golf

course and that you don’t

back into the lesser car parked

behind you, that huge central

display is also home to a

control system swiped straight

from the bridge of the

Starship Enterprise (the Next

Generation one; not the

cardboard and gaffer tape

1960s version).

BLOKE

That control hub is constantly

beaming system data back to

Tesla’s UK headquarters in

West Drayton, allowing the

boffins to monitor

performance, upgrade system

software, and carry out

genuine system fixes in the

event of a failure. (As an

example, customers familiar

with driving a standard

automatic car called for a

“creep” mode that would

make the car move slowly

when the drive gear was

engaged. That creep mode

was added remotely.)

And that level of electronic

innovation extends to the

driver too. Each car comes

with an iPhone/Android app

that allows the owner to

interrogate the system’s

controls, check “fuel”

consumption.

But practicality is for Mondeo

drivers. It is the clever quirks

of the Tesla system that really

mark it as unique.

Using the app, you can pre-

cool or pre-warm the car’s

interior to ensure that it is the

correct temperature long

before you climb behind the

wheel.

You can also pre-heat the

seats too if you’re that way

inclined. When you get back

to Heathrow having just been

to Zurich to visit your money,

you can use the app to make

your car easier to find,

remotely flashing the lights or

honking the horn.

Oh, and the “key” - which

never does anything as

mundane as being pushed

into the ignition - is shaped

like the car itself and uses

proximity sensors to extend

the door handles when the

driver approaches to grant

access to the gorgeous

interior.

Add to that the fact that it

carries no taxable benefit in

kind – meaning that the

kindly George Osborne is

effectively paying roughly a

third of the purchase cost of

the car – and that it is

congestion zone exempt, and

this is a supercar that is super

in more ways than one.

If you fancy driving a Tesla supercar but have left the required £100,000 in your other

jacket, there is a solution. Evision is the appropriately-named brainchild of

Hugh Edeleanu, the man behind plant hire giant H.E. Services whose diggers seem to

be an almost permanent fixture on the UK’s highways and byways.

The new company has invested in a fleet of Tesla Model S supercars that are now

available for long and short term self-drive hire or as part of a chauffeur service.

The fleet is operated from a new outlet in Rochester, Kent, overlooking Edeleanu’s

H.E. Services operations.

While they’re off hire, the fleet is recharged from an impressive solar powered network

at the Evision and H.E. Services headquarters that generates almost half a megawatt of

clean, green power.

“People are increasingly looking to hire premium cars for both business and leisure

and we’re excited to be the UK’s first to offer the Tesla Model S in both the rental and

chauffeur markets,” says Edeleanu.

“Whether for business or pleasure, a city break, long weekend or a longer period, it’s

the perfect choice for those looking for a luxury supercar experience that literally

won’t cost the earth!”

BLOKE S t u f f – G e n t l e m a n ’ s C o r n e r

E m a i l E t i q u e t t e

Text speak; one line; bad

grammar; no grammar; no

names; no signature, and

the list goes on and on.

These are only some of the

things that enter my email

inbox on a daily basis and I

get frustrated and a little

saddened.

Let’s put it in context, I love

technology. Currently I am

writing this on a tablet, I was

an early adopter of the mobile

phone and had an email

account as soon as I could. Yet,

I remember typing letters on a

typewriter and waiting a full

week for the post to exchange

letters between parties.

Etiquette is one of those

things that changes

through the years, but is

underpinned by

fundamental rules. This is

also very true of email;

although it needs to

move with the times and

adapt to the world today,

we also need to

remember the

fundamental rules of

communication.

Electronic Mail is at its core

purely a digital version of a

paper letter. We frequently

forget that it has similar

elements to its paper cousin

and therefore also has the

same etiquette.

Here is our short guide to

writing Emails for Gentleman.

Let’s start at the beginning,

with the address. An email

address is certainly not the

same as a person’s physical

address, but it still directs

your missive to the right

person.

Take the time to make sure

that you are sending the email

to the correct person or group

of people, be careful with

those ‘reply all’ buttons.

In this day and age people

often have both work and

private emails and you should

make sure you are sending it

to the correct address, and

also that you are sending from

your own correct address,

whether it be personal or

business.

One of the significant but

positive differences between

paper and digital is the

email’s Subject Line.

This line of information gives

the recipient a clear indication

of the type of email it is and

what it might contain. In

general, keep it simple,

concise and informative.

In traditional letter writing,

the greetings (or salutations,

to give them their official

title) are exceptionally simple.

You start with ‘Dear XXX’ and

follow this either with: their

First Name, if you are friends

or well known to you; their

title (e.g. Mr/Mrs) and their

Surname, if they are business

related or unknown; or ‘Dear

Sir/Madam’, if they are not

known to you at all, even by

name. This should be the same

for email. Unfortunately, we

now think that ‘Hi’ is an

acceptable greeting no matter

who you are writing to, or how

well you know them.

The bulk of an email’s content

should be written like a letter.

Unless you are dropping a

missive to a good friend, you

should use correct language.

No text speak, check the

spelling, check the grammar

and, if needs be, read it out

loud to double check;

something that I do

frequently.

One of the most frequent

reasons to email people is to

make an introduction. If that is

the case, make sure you state

that in the subject of the

email, and in the bulk of the

email give the reasons for

introducing each of the

people and repeat their

contact details.

When you finish your email

and you are signing off,

remember to do so correctly

or with a flourish. It shows

that the email has ended. If it

is formal, end with ‘Yours

Sincerely’. If that is not the

case, sign off with a phrase,

personally I always use

‘Kindest Regards’ but you can

find your own.

Don’t forget the email

signature, which acts in the

same fashion as an Address

Header on a physical letter.

Make sure it has all the

relevant content and is up to

date.

One small tip - if you are

writing emails that require

thought or need to be

carefully worded, compose the

email before adding the

recipient's email. Only when

you have checked and re-

checked the email, should you

add the email address. This

will stop you sending in haste

or by mistake.

As you can see, we are quite

passionate about proper email

etiquette, it makes a good

impression and enables you to

stand out from the crowd. We

will look forward to receiving

a carefully written email from

you in the future.

Henry Gentleman is the

personification of The

Perfect Gentleman. He and

the rest of the PG team are

there to bring about a more

respectful, stylish &

gentlemanly world. Our first

book 'Becoming the Perfect

Gentleman' is out now and

others in the series are due

soon. We also run life skills

courses in business, romance

and more.

Join us at

www.theperfectgentleman.tv

BLOKE S t u f f – R e a d i n g M a t t e r

I am Dandy makes for a superb coffee table discussion

point. But some of the dandies featured appear to have

spent rather too long in the dressing-up chest.

The Bloke reports.

Beau Brummel - gentleman,

bon viveur and originator of

what we today consider fine

tailoring – once said that “if

people turn to look at you on

the street, you are not well

dressed.”

I was reminded of this truism

whilst browsing through the

luxurious pages of “I am

Dandy – The Return of the

Elegant Gentleman” by

Nathaniel Adams and Rose

Callahan.

For while the authors have

gathered together some

incredibly well-dressed chaps

in stunning full page

photographs that are worth

the cost price alone, they have

also assembled a number of

individuals whose

flamboyance has strayed into

“what are you thinking”

territory.

For every tweed or pinstripe-

wearing chap with a wardrobe

to die for, there is another for

whom elegance has given way

to affectation; every man-

about-town is matched by a

kaftan-favouring sartorial road

crash; every nod towards

sprezzatura met with the

equal and opposite force of a

top-hatted escapee from the

wardrobe department of the

local amateur dramatic

society.

“If peopleturn to look

at you onthe street,you are not

welldressed.”

Beau Brummel

T h e s u b l i m e t o

But then that is rather missing

the point of the book.

Well researched and

beautifully photographed, this

a coffee table conversation

starter and look-book, not a

how to guide.

And while it sheds no real

light on the reason for the

assembled gentlemen’s

sartorial leanings and is,

perhaps, a little too focused

on those with the disposable

income to fuel their insatiable

clothing addictions, it is a

book I am proud to own…

even if it is to serve as a

reminder that sometimes, just

sometimes, too much really IS

too much.

t h e r i d i c u l o u s

BLOKE S t u f f – R e a d i n g M a t t e r

T u r n i n g b a c k t h e

“Thehardest job

kids facetoday islearning

goodmannerswithout

seeing any.”Fred Astaire

c l o c k

The Bloke gets his paws on

the new Becoming the

Perfect Gentleman book

and finds himself

strangely torn.

I bought a copy of Becoming

the Perfect Gentleman by Zach

Falconer-Barfield and Nic Wing

partly because I couldn’t blag

one – this magazine didn’t

even exist at the time – and

also because I was half

intrigued and half

disappointed that such a book

should even exist in this

modern “every man for

himself” age.

The concept of the gentleman

speaks to a bygone age of

chivalry and derring-do.

But, as the modernist front

cover and sections on digital

etiquette make perfectly clear,

this book aims to reclaim the

term gentleman from the

lavatory door and restore its

former meaning for the 21st

Century.

All in all then, a book I would

recommend and pass on to

friends.

So why do I find myself quite

so torn?

Becoming the Perfect

Gentleman is designed to

showcase, reinvigorate,

reintroduce and reinforce

skills that were considered the

norm until relatively recently,

certainly in my lifetime; skills

that would have been passed

from father to son; traits and

standards that would have

been absorbed by osmosis

over years and decades.

This book then is The Great

British Bake-Off in literary

form.

That such a book is required in

today’s world is a damning

indictment on the decline of

manners and civility in

modern society.

That the authors and

publishers believe that the

standards and virtues extolled

in this book are worthy of

protection and resurrection

speaks to the resilience of

what is right; and it should be

required reading for anyone

that believes baseball caps

and tracksuits have a place

outside the sporting arena.

And, overall, it makes a pretty

good case.

I concurred almost entirely

with its suggested list of the

14 essential wardrobe items

(although I have an irrational

distrust of reversible belts)

and upon its attention to

things such as oral hygiene as

part of a gentleman’s daily

grooming regime.

I would have liked more on

the history of the gentleman

but that’s purely because I

have a personal fondness for

tales of the fops and dandies

of yesteryear.

I never read the Romantic

Gentleman section – I fear I

am a lost cause - and have

also ensured that Mrs Bloke

never gets to see it lest she

realise how much she has

been short-changed over the

past 25 years of marriage, but

I am sure the advice contained

therein is both entertaining

and useful.

The regular and insightful

“Gentleman’s Hints” make this

an ideal book to dip into.

While I am sure that etiquette

would dictate that no

gentleman would ever read

whilst “on the throne”, these

bullet-point style hints make

for ideal “bathroom perusal”.

BLOKE S t u f f

Name? Pete Murphy

Age? Let’s just say the wrong side of fifty!

Location? NorthWest

Occupation? A bit of this and a bit of that.

Style Icon? I like the Ricki Hall look, if only I could grow a beard like his

Favourite gadget/device? Not really a big gadget fan but couldn’t be

without my HTC smartphone.

Favourite book or film? Hmmm, so many, think you’ll have to leave

that one with me.

Dream car? Any Aston Martin or Ferrari, I'm not greedy!

Dream holiday destination? I've always dreamed of going to

Australia, my dreams will be realised in November

Do you have a daily grooming regime? Yeah, I think we all have to

some degree, gotta be ready to meet the world!

How much do you spend on grooming products each month? That

varies month to month, not too much though.

M a n o f t h e H o u rIn honour of our unrequited love of Twitter, in each edition we will

bring you a Tweet-style interview with a notable BLOKE.

How much do you spend on clothes each month? Again that

would depend if there is a holiday or special occasion coming

up.

Do you have a favourite clothing brand? Not really, I go for a

look not necessarily a label. But I like a bargain so if I see any

McQueen in the sale…….

Do you have a favourite grooming products brand?

I have many brands, I like to try anything new. Lush have just

introduced a moustache wax and a face/beard wash so I’m

trying that.

How often do you get your hair cut? Every four weeks, it’s my

treat to myself.

Who cuts your hair? Inky Steve at BarberBarber UK in

Manchester or Liverpool

Favourite item of clothing? Loads of favourites, I’ve got some

cool tees and vests from CoolBeardBroCo.

Most expensive item of clothing you own? Probably my

shoes, Grenson or Jeffery West.

Most ridiculous item of clothing ever purchased? Ha Ha, far

too many to mention here!!

What clothing item in the world would you most like to own?

Not sure, something iconic so I could wear it once and then get it

on Ebay!!

What grooming product could you not live without? A toss-

up between my hair gel or my tache wax.

What, in your opinion, is the greatest fashion crime? It’s got

to be socks with sandals, argghhh!

If you could have anyone’s wardrobe, whose would it be?

A combination of Ricki Hall, David Gandy and David Beckham.

The best of casual and smart casual.

Who, in your opinion, is the world’s best-dressed man?

Any of the above, depending on the occasion.