In his skin-tight trousers and his cherry-red Docs
Strolling into Carnaby Street at 7:15 this morning[*], I was surprised to see a crowd. Large numbers of young persons, standing around. It looked slightly like a meet-up for a college trip, but Carnaby St? At 7 in the morning?
The crowd was long, and strung out along the street, smaller groups chatting. Sitting on the road, eating Pret toasties and drinking fancy coffee. Some had sheets of cardboard to sit on, some had picnic blankets.
Further along the road, people had sleeping bags and camping chairs. Aha! This isn't a crowd, this is a queue.
It ended abruptly outside the Dr Martens shop. A quick Google suggests that some Dr Martens outlets are selling boots at the 1960's price of £3. A limited number of pairs, obviously, so if you're reading this: you've missed it.
I've never queued overnight for something. I don't think I've even considered it. Have you?
[*] I was going to yoga before work. Don't tell anyone. It will ruin my pie-eating, beer-swilling image.
The crowd was long, and strung out along the street, smaller groups chatting. Sitting on the road, eating Pret toasties and drinking fancy coffee. Some had sheets of cardboard to sit on, some had picnic blankets.
Further along the road, people had sleeping bags and camping chairs. Aha! This isn't a crowd, this is a queue.
It ended abruptly outside the Dr Martens shop. A quick Google suggests that some Dr Martens outlets are selling boots at the 1960's price of £3. A limited number of pairs, obviously, so if you're reading this: you've missed it.
I've never queued overnight for something. I don't think I've even considered it. Have you?
[*] I was going to yoga before work. Don't tell anyone. It will ruin my pie-eating, beer-swilling image.