When I was a teen, nothing seemed more luxurious to me than Burlington Argyle socks with the intriguing little button and Burlington's promising tagline that these socks were the "Sign of style". Every time I wore a pair of such socks, I imagined I was a stray British boarding school student somehow adrift in Sweden, sure to return to England in time for Cambridge where I would wear pleated skirts, cardigans and drink tea while browsing important books like Gibbon's Decline and fall of the Roman empire (that title! all downhill!) Well that didn't happen. Or it kind of did, I studied classics but not in England but in Stockholm and Uppsala together with a bunch of twenty-something weirdos.
These days, I get my daily dose of the world of antiquity through a browser.
But I digress. Back to those socks...they still kind of do it for me.
And yes, that's exactly how my teenage self imagined my early 20s look would be in the future.
Thanks Cattis Aronsson for knowing.
Ps. Image googled Gibbon and found he's a dead dead ringer for Mel Smith?!?!
