Ibiza Style File

Wise man that he is, it was Boy George who opined that 'heat is the enemy of style.' And it's so true, you just can't look smart when temperatures are at melting point.

Take me, I'm wishing away the days waiting for a time when I can ditch my sandals and linen schlepping about gear for some smart, classic styling. Brogues, loafers, jeans, chinos, button down Oxford shirts, and a sports jacket or jerkin. Somewhere twixt quintessentially English and preppie Americana and complimented by yet another pair of brogues (suede wing tips) I've got on order from the Yewkay.

Jaki's got a list as long as my arm of clothing that she should not let me out of the front door wearing. I'm particular about what I wear to the point of Anal Retension unless I acquire something sartorially elegant from a rubbish bin.

Jaki remembers meeting me wearing a Bulgarian Army combat jacket in Zurich airport that I'd found in a site cabin in the Iraqi desert and was so proud of. I've done it again because yesterday I fished* something I've always wanted but never realised before out of a rubbish container by the town hall.

It's a 'Coat, hot weather woodland camouflage pattern, combat.' I think it's army talk for rearrange these words into a well known phrase or saying, and helpfully for Nato use it explains 'wear outside of trousers!' presumably so that any French troops retreating at high speed from a combat zone won't make a fashion faux pas.

Any road, when the temperature drops about 15 degrees I'll be donning it to liberate Pacha

* Fished is the operative word, as the bins where I found it are used by our fishmonger to dump all the bits that are left at the end of the day. I have washed the jacket after carefully extracting a cat from every pocket.