Pho-buddy Kit



Yu, manager of Tokyobike UK and streetstyle photographer




Wearing: Jacket – Barbour. Puffer down vest – Gap. Shoes – Isabel Marant. Jeans – James Jeans. Gloves – Muji touchscreen gloves

Oy vey, how does one follow up with a car pile-up equivalent of a bi-annual existential ramble? First off, I swear I didn’t mean to come off questioning whether or not to quit blogging entirely, that’s not in the plans. I was meant to valiantly survive an apocalypse along with sexy Emma Stone and some cockroaches, remember? I’m not going anywhere, I happen to like dressing and undressing in public (throw me a penny will ya). I did sit in bed reading your comments though, quivering at times, and at the end thought bit of poop-head, aren’t I – I’ve near-become one of those douche-baguettes that leave their amazing boyfriends for a guy that will only date me for my lumps (or lack thereof). My sincerest apologies, you’re amazing, make-up snog?

Have a bit of Pho, at least. I guess I was saving this post exactly for an occasion like this, for times we can all do with a bit of a pick-me-up. When our offices used to be based in Old Street the Pho Cafe on St John street was a guilty indulgence, and on colder days I’d cycle back with the team’s order stuffed in my front-basket, leaving a visible trail of steam in my wake. We’d then open all the windows, stuff a napkin down our collars and slurp down the hot pho, for an indoor picnic was all we could afford during busy times. So this is sort of a fantasy come true. Kit and I rented a couple of Tokyobike bikes for the occasion, and on mentioning ‘pho’, Yu (owner) immediately mounted his own bike and proposed to act as captain guide. It was yum.

BTW, when I really want to close this blog, I won’t dare do it with that kind of a whimper – I thrive from exaggeration (see title), my reasoning will be anything but legitimate. (i.e I need to focus on my career of oiling Iron Man suits)