Tuesday, 25 September 2012

A swellegant, elegant party.

At my wedding, my best man and college friend Paul said in his speech, "over the years we've shared many highs together, some legal..."

Whilst this might be true, I doubt many were better than the one I got from hosting my customer party last Thursday evening.

After a last minute flood of "sorry we can't make it" texts, the clock struck six. Within minutes I was surrounded by friends, family, suppliers and grinning customers, adrenalin and alcohol pumping through my arteries.





The sound of popping champagne corks and laughter filled the air, melding perfectly with the smooth, sexy tones of Matt Anderson on saxophone, Aubin Vanns on guitar and Stewart Garden (who played at my opening party) on keyboard.





Ever the show-off, I decided to take centre stage and make a speech.



The key thing I wanted to get across was the fact that the evening was not about Michelsberg tailoring, but a thank you to everyone who makes it possible for me to do a job that I love.

People like the weavers from the mills of Yorkshire who provide me with beautiful cloth, and those in the workrooms who make it up into something truly special.

I expressed my gratitude to other tenants in the Victoria Quarter who have referred customers my way, with a special thanks to Patrick of Church's shoes who generously provided a dozen bottles of Church's Champagne for the bash.



The final doff of my cap was, of course, to my fabulous customers. Many of them have become good friends over the years and, as ambassadors of my brand, had made the effort to come and support me on a school night, their continued patronage enabling the Michelsberg tailoring show to go on.

What a buzz to see all those "Michelsbergs" under one roof - a glorious cacophony of tweed three piece suits, jackets with velvet and moleskin top collars, flashy waistcoats, double-breasted numbers with uber-peak lapels, sharp Mohair specials with creases like razors and man-about-town covert-coats.

As the clock struck eleven, my driver (and long suffering wife Nikki) called time at the bar, and on the way back home, I wallowed in the passenger seat, a smile on my face, looking forward to a cunningly planned day off.

Here's to the Christmas bash!















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