|
Testimonials |
| |
 |
Evening Standard
- A day in the death of a glorious grouse
By Nick Curtis - 13.08.09 |
| |
|
 |
"......There were six “guns”, three keepers, several dogs, and a few non-combatants, including Ben and Percy's sister Catherine, chef Jonathan Jones of The Anchor and Hope at Waterloo, and me. We walked in line up a steep but boggy hill amid glorious countryside to 2,500ft, alternately scorched by sun and soused by rain. I was self-conscious in a tweed jacket, plus-fours and cap lent by Hornets gentlemen's outfitters in Kensington, but my first ankle-deep lunge into mud showed me how practical this outlandish garb can be. ......"
Full article here. |
 |
|
| |
|
 |
| |
| London Vintage - Édition Paumes - Japanese guide to vintage shops in London |
| |
édition PAUMES is a small and dynamic family run Japanese publishers,
working in close contact with artists and designers in Europe on different editorial projects.
With a poetic and original approach, édition PAUMES explores the environments of those who stimulate the creative industries,
and in doing has produced a set creative "bibles" that overflow with inspiration. Click on images below to see larger versions of the book.
|
| |
|
| |
|
| |
|
 |
| |
|
 |
Evening Standard
- Hats off to men in ... hats
By Nick Curtis |
| |
It's
not often I find myself applauding David Beckham's
mad sartorial spasms, but pictures of him
wearing a fedora deserve an emphatic thumbs-up.
Men look good in hats. It is one of the
few items of masculine apparel which is
both practical and affords scope for dandyism.
A hat keeps you warm, looks stylish, and
is a far more effective tool for keeping
the rain off, without injuring fellow pedestrians,
than the unpredictable umbrella.
Think of Leonard Cohen, unfeasibly dapper
on his latest tour in a double-breasted
suit and trilby. Or Gilbert and George in
their hand-made fur numbers. Or Barack Obama
in his jaunty boater.
Instilled with an early love of hats by
the snap-brim swagger of William Powell
in The Thin Man and Humphrey Bogart in The
Maltese Falcon, I now own more titfers than
I know what to do with. There's the black
fedora brought back by my parents from Chicago
when I was 20. The parchment-coloured Panama.
The fake-fur Russian-style number with ear-flaps
that I bought on a cold day from Hornets,
the purveyors of vintage gentlemen's clothing
in Kensington.
All of these are worn when the weather
demands, or permits. But there are others.
The Home Guard helmet that belonged to my
grandfather. The Kofia purchased from a
persuasive African in Lanzarote. And the
deerstalker I bought, also from Hornets,
on a whim (I had been drinking).
I wouldn't quite dare wear these, or the
Christy's cream topper (made by Steve Cossey,
the last apprenticed hatter working in the
UK, and a snip at £29), that Hornets
lent me for this picture. But who knows?
If Beckham wears one, so will I. How about
it, Dave?
|
| |
|
 |
| |
|
| |
 |
Daily
Mail - A prat in a hat? Far from it. My new
trilby can help make Britain a better place
By Tom Utley, pictured in a grey Chepstow
Trilby |
Most days at lunchtime over the past couple
of years, Ive walked on my way to and
from the pub past a tiny shop that specialises
in gentlemens hats. It's in an alleyway
off the High Street.
The thought often occurred to me, as I looked
into the window, that the shop might be a
front organisation for a secret government
agency. If I pulled back the curtain behind
the piles of bowlers, deerstalkers and trilbys,
perhaps I might find a vast network of nuclear
blast-proof bunkers, staffed by thousands
of bustling civil servants.
In my minds eye, I saw a scene straight
out of a Bond movie, with banks of computers
flashing and bleeping as far as the eye could
see, and huge electronic maps lining the walls.
But I never ventured into the shop to satisfy
my curiosity. After all, what if a work
colleague happened to spot me walking in?
He mightnt realise that I was a dedicated
newshound, on the trail of the scoop of
the century. Chances are, he would mistake
me for the sort of prat who might be interested
in buying a poncy hat. Id never live
it down.
Fantasies
I would often linger outside the hat shop
on those walks to and from the pub. Fantasies
about Bond films soon fled from my mind
and in their place, a new and even
more fanciful idea began to take root.
I started to tell myself, as I looked through
the window at that pile of £29 trilbys:
You know, Tom, it might actually be
quite nice to have a hat like that.
Last week I finally did it!
After one more pint than usual, I drew a
deep breath, crossed the threshold, pointed
at the trilbys and said: Id
like one of those, please.
Im now the proud owner of a handsome
grey trilby and wondering why it
took me such an eternity to pluck up the
courage to buy it.
At the root of my cowardice, I suppose,
is the deep-seated yearning of the human
male to conform. Though we may not admit
it, most of us want nothing more than to
blend into the crowd.
Shame
Another objection to my buying a trilby
was my two younger sons utter horror
at the idea. In their view, their father
is quite embarrassing enough bare-headed.
But in a trilby! They let me know that theyd
disown me entirely if I dared to buy one.
They wouldnt be seen dead, they said,
with a prat in a hat.
The more I have thought about it, the more
I believe that the urban males decision
to abandon the hat taken en masse
on both sides of the Atlantic in the middle
of the last century is one of the
most inexplicable phenomena of modern history.
A hat like my new one is not only smart,
but extremely comfortable and practical.
It keeps me warm (they are quite right when
they tell us that we lose more body heat
through our heads than anywhere else)
and it keeps me dry when Ive forgotten
my umbrella (which is always).
Civility
Theres also something about hats
perhaps because they remind us of a past
and
gentler age that seems to encourage
courtesy and civility. The rituals of removing
them indoors and raising them in greeting
or deference to a woman seem to shape their
wearers general conduct throughout
the day.
Which brings me to the shopkeeper a. After
owning a trilby for a week, I no longer
think his shop is a front for a sinister
government agency. Ive decided that
hes extraordinarily nice to his customers
simply because thats what hat people
are extraordinarily nice.
Let us resolve, in the icy chill of the
recession now upon us, to reclaim proper
hats
from attention-seekers and eccentrics
and restore them to their proper place on
the heads of wise and conventional folk
like you and me.
|
| |
| |
|
 |
| |
|
| |
London
Evening Standard - Death of the pinstripe?
By Richard Godwin
There is something very unbecoming about a
gentleman who follows the vagaries of fashion
too closely. Past a certain age he should
follow his own style.
The chalk is for the power dresser. It says
bish bash bosh, it took three henchmen to
pour me into this thing. However, though it
is worn by its share of bankers, chalkstripe
itself is a fine, Gatsby-ish thing. It cuts
an elegant dash, oozes confidence and is slimming
and lengthening to boot.
Bill Hornets the gentlemen's outfitter will
not hear of its fall from grace. Women
love them. Men are impressed by them. You
walk into a room in one and people will know
who you are. What does he think of the
striped two piece I'm wearing? He pauses,
Erm, that's more of a faint pinstripe.
But I don't care it is a fine, honest
suit, old-school but with a modern cut. |
| |
| |
| |
|
 |
| |
|
| |
|
London Evening Standard - 'Hats off
to tweedy old Kensington'
Richard Godwin
An invitation arrives in the post. Hornets,
the gentlemen's attire shop in Kensington,
is to stock Christys' hats and it's having
a party to celebrate. In attendance will
be Steve Cossey, the last apprenticed hatter
working in the UK, a man who "knows
everything about making a hat".
The reality of this party was even better
than the invitation suggested. A small crowd
of regulars squeezed into the little store
to drink champagne, politely pass up the
sandwiches and inspect the new arrivals.
Mr Cossey, true to his claims, did indeed
know everything about making a hat, having
spent seven years learning how as long as
it takes to become a junior doctor.
Hornets' stock, a mixture of second-hand
and specialist, comes with stories attached,
not just the hats. It has an incredible
range of tweed and worsted. If I were to
need a cummerbund, this is the place I would
come to.
Yet more remarkable is the charming obliviousness
of the staff in all three branches to the
vulgarities of the high street. You are
treated with courtesy and respect, whatever
your budget.
Only in Kensington do you find its exact
combination and commuting here from north-east
London each day, I have grown to love the
contrast. While Hackney's population is
essentially transient, Kensington has been
secure in its wealth and poshness for decades.
It is insulated from too much change; there
are people living comfortable lives here
who you would only otherwise expect to find
in an episode of Poirot.
Naturally, if some of Hornets' tweeds were
for sale in Hoxton, they would probably
be going for twice the price.
|
| |
|
 |
| |
|
| |
|
Financial Times Magazine - 'A Passion
for Fashion'
Jonathan Futrell
A tweed jacket, on the other hand, "is
the most useful garment in the world,"
says William (Bill) Hornets, who reckons
the third, and newest, of his small Hornets
chain of vintage clothing stores in Kensington
is the tweediest shop in London. "You
can wear it with a pair of smart trousers
and a tie and go for cocktails, or you can
dress is down with a pair of jeans".
A tweed jacket, whether modern lightweight
or traditional bruiser, is like a pair of
Levi's; it requires breaking in to genuinely
radiate. And it's why increasing numbers
of men are turning vintage. Pre-worn tweed
contains all the colour, durability and
masculinity - with character and comfort
already "lived in". At any given
time Hornet's range offers around 250 tweed
jackets (from £69), from 1 to 40 years
old.
As Etro says, it takes confidence to wear
tweed. Whether it's lovat green, dogtooth,
herringbone or overchecked with crimson,
blue or orange, the colours and patterns
are almost irrelevant. "They all sell,"
says Hornet's. "It doesn't matter about
the colour. The only ones we can't move
are those with the leather golf ball buttons".
And is there an explanation? After all,
my own tweed has leather buttons, 20 in
all. In fact, I'm very proud of my golf
ball buttons. "Too many images of old
men in Dunn & Co jackets waiting at
the bus stop". Which wouldn't be at
all tweedy in 2008.
|
| |
|
 |
| |
|
| |
|
Chaps Magazine
HORNETS. Long-established in Kensington,
this trio of shops is bursting with quality
tweed, serge, worsted and cavalry twill.
The stock includes jackets, suits, hats
(new and second-hand), shoes, ties, cravats,
in fact a gentleman could construct an entirely
new wardrobe.
|
| |
|
 |
| |
|
| |
|
Observer Magazine - Fashion - My Favorite
Outfit - Sam Bompas (11/11/07)
"There's a chap who virtually dresses
me at a shop called Hornets. It's a second-hand
Gent's clothing shop in Kensington Church
Walk. Full of Saville Row suits and weird
and wonderful military dress jackets. The
shoes have been resoled so many times I've
propbably paid five times as much in repairs
as I did originally. They're from Hornets;
they're Carvillle. The company strapline
is "The shop for the amorous man",
which is slightly creepy. Clothes are a
mechanism of communication - people are
adept at reading clothes, and you can manipulate
that. Wear a bicorn hat or a hussars jacket
to a party and everyone will pay attention.;
My style icon 'Toad from Wind in the Willows'."
|
| |
|
 |
| |
|
 |
By Simon Davis - Evening Standard.
|
|
".....I wear a suit every day, I am
passionate about them and love the cut of
a good suit. It puts me into work mode and
makes me feel grown-up and serious, i own
a dozen or so, and most are bespoke, although
hardly any were actually made for me. They're
second-hand and I usually spend about £200
on them.
I favour Hornets, a wonderful second-hand
gentleman's clothing outfitters tucked away
in Kensington. The owner has been in the
game for donkey's years and knows more about
tailoring than anyone else I know.
Hornets has two shops: one for suits, smoking
jackets, black tie and coats - I have a
1960's Aquascutum overcoat with ivy green
velvet collar that cost £90 - and
the other for sports jackets, shoes, jumpers
and shirts. It's the great suit secret of
London for those in the know.
The trick is to find a suit that is a pretty
good fit, then take it to a tailor who for
£30 or so, will tweak it to fit perfectly.
I have, among others, a Henry Poole, a Chester
Barrie, a Timothy Everest and a Huntsman.
The owner of the Poole suit has five made
every year and discards the old ones annually
- mine hadn't been worn once. They would
have been about £2000 new."
|
| |
 |
| |
|
Julian Keeling - Esquire
|
|
Hornets says:"Silk velvet is ordinarily
wildly expensive. Vintage is all about stepping
away and developing an individual and distinctive
style. Quality always speaks for itself.
It's as simple as that".
|
| |
 |
| |
|
Richard Godwin - Evening Standard
|
|
The smart guide to budget London - "Hornets
for the best Secondhand Tailoring".
|
|