Vacancy in Cell 5E

Mark left for the South of France today, checking in the huge portfolio as outsize baggage, and London suddenly felt wintry. A season has rolled on, and, where only recently it seemed we had lots of time in hand, we have to get things done, made, samples to see and touch, or be running to catch the Autumn / Winter 2011 orders.  After I got back to flat 5E, I exchanged a little conversation with the doormen before strolling on my lonesome up Piccadilly. To counter the cold I had my raccoon flying hat on, ear flaps down. We bought one each from a Frenchman who has a menswear store, Conquete, opposite the Chelsea Hotel in New York. He has them made to his own spec. and they are great.

I cut up Bond Street - noting people huddled at the bar in Cecconi's, the tables deserted outside that were thronged a few days ago - and hiked across Regent into Soho. On the corner of Greek Street and Soho Square, at the laudable establishment that is St Barnabas Hostel for Fallen Women (membership fees go to help the homeless), I met our lovely mates Chris and Lee Dyson. Chris works at Universal Records and Lee is an astronomer-musician-digital-design guru. Aside from being a brilliant bloke, he always delivers what Mark is after lickety-spit ("No, Bono, you'll have to wait," he says quite sharply - this is how I imagine it - turning back to our unpaid request). As we were on our way to Heathrow he sent through the Earl of Bedlam logo with its new lettering. Even on the little Bananaberry screen it looked really cool - cos you have to think about how images and other id's will look shrunk onto clothing labels and swing tags. So wotchafink? He's going to play about with a few more versions of it. We'll post them in a couple of days and hone the winner.

Carolyn called from Paris, checking in after a week in Hong Kong visiting factories that manufacture for Kenzo. She is our distinguished knitwear wiz-consultant and had practical advice after an English manufacturer's rep in Berwick Street last week pronounced an innovation of Mark's "impossible". To use that word is to show a lamentable lack of imagination. I said nothing is impossible, we've put men on the moon (we've seen their footprints through Lee's telescope too), at which the tailor conceded it would be "prohibitively expensive". Carolyn counselled to get used to that sort of reaction, but push against it, as many manufacturers have their machines set in one groove and if you ask them to move an inch left or right they get all freaked out and wibbly wobbly, parroting "Oooh can't do that!" Yes you can. You can.

At Terminal Five we got out of the car park lift and I noticed Matthew Williamson crouched on the curb having a smoke. He looked quite fragile, wispy as his moustache. "Did you see who that was?" I hissed to Mr Wesley. "No. Who?" he asked, performing the instinctive unsubtle turnaround that makes it obvious to the celeb-subject that their presence has been remarked. To apologise for my gauche attention drawing, I turned round too with a smile for the designer and he returned it in a most charming way, quite shyly. I hoped maybe he would be on Mark's flight to offer advice.

We had wanted so much to get the line made in the UK but the prices are really brutal we're trying to persuade other people to put their money behind us. We received an e-mail from a gentleman in Turkey this morning, offering his services as a broker, so I shall reply and see what he has to say.

I grumble at Mark for having the telly on loud but the apartment seemed so quiet when I got home that I put it on and turned it up.