Little Spy.

Trench: Burberry

Shirt: Reproduction

Cardigan: Vintage

Chinos: Topman

Socks: Happy Socks

Penny Loafers: Bass

Specs: Oliver Peoples

Ring: Fancy Sexy Me

Although Sweet with a liquorice like sheen and delicious to the touch, these tasseled loafers boar a bitter-sweet aftertaste... Sweet comes in the form of its refined leathery goodness, evolving a debt ridden pauper (a degree in economics brought me nothing but a spiraling overdraft) into somewhat of a prince. As for bitter, well - the realisation that my clumsy man size feet had shrunk two sizes to an above average feminine size 7, left my content self burdened with a sudden wave of grief, frantically trying to persuade a somewhat unresponsive sales assistant that "I am a size 9, I swear - It must be the shoe". Does this also mean that gravity has had its wicked way with my 5ft 11 and a half (the half being very crucial) inch frame? Surely not! Can't be, or could it? Are my elf like feet destined to trot in a pair of Tom Cruise-esque lifts? Or will compensation come in the form of a doctor Seuss hat... Desperate times call for desperate measures.