But it’s a Paul Smith, he protests and doesn’t need to. I try to keep mum these days. It’s his joy, this buying and bidding on eBay. He says it’s harmless and doesn’t cost much as they are all second-hand. So I leave him be and patiently (mostly) pack up the parcels to return if they don’t suit. I hadn’t seen the coat before he sent it off to the drycleaners to be cleaned. I can’t remember the adjective they used when he called them to check it had arrived (a blousy, cheery woman comes to collect every Thursday). There’s swank, they should’ve said. For it is bright, even garish. Pink. Do you remember when we were going to buy me that pink velvet suit from Paul Smith in Covent Garden? Yes, I do. I remember the umming and ahing and the dithering. It wasn’t cheap. He is happy now. That is what matters. And I have my fetishes too. Sketchbooks for instance?
