London Fashion Week??

I sincerely hope the man is colour blind, and my mouth is not unbecomingly agape. There is train wreck carnage and then there is a picturesquely dressed Englishman. My eyes disobey the commands of my brain (that is still reeling from the first cursory inventory) and gape in as surreptitious manner as possible at the vision next to me.

Tall, bony, sideburns and unlikely to be sold at any but a most deprived (deprIved!) slave auction, a second glance is demanded by the sheer discordance of a muted colour scheme that bizarrely trails off into loud socks. My second visual incursion makes me head swivel in denial, but it's there in mostly monochrome for all to see.... a sickly brown jumper reminiscent of blah, yawns at the neck to reveal a denim blue collar, which provides no more enhancement that the oddly jarring note the blah jumper plays against charcoal grey trousers. Trousers sadly revealing more lanky leg than permissible in polite society, and pale skin fades into insignificance against a theatrical violet that gives way to a parrot green, ultimately shod in tan shoes.

Apparently, ensembles requiring ultraviolet interference a la Aamir Khan's screamingly yellow classic in Rangeela, isn't the only way for a man to dress offensively. I rack my brains to think of another instance when a collection of muted shades has had such a profound effect on my equilibrium and instead, my sympathies transfer to this partner, and I send up a little prayer hoping she/he is colour blind.... and shudder to think what might lie beneath....