What’s worse than sunglasses in clubs? Losing a pair of sunglasses in a club. Ok, the club in question was Secret Sundaze last Sunday which has an outdoor terrace, very Ibiza DC10 with euro-chic ravers a-plenty and barely enough room to swing a mouse. I wore my vintage-off-Ebay Rayban aviators but took them off for a sojourn inside. And where did I put them? Dangling from my jeans front pocket. Doh! Sure enough when I came out again they were nowhere to be found. Cue forlornly searching the ground which is by now a raging sea of Converse and wedges and not even a broken shard of lense to be seen. The strange thing was everyone I looked at was wearing Raybans, MY Rayban aviators I kid you not. So I decided not to mourn and quickly came to terms with my loss.
But which way now? Certainly not the Wayfarer (white or otherwise) – too victimy. Oversized Hollywood-chic? Too 2006. Balanciaga’s robot shades? No thanks, I don’t work in a science lab. I’m feeling a pull towards Oliver Goldsmith’s bespoke sunnies. They have the all-important credible heritage (Goldsmith supplied the Sinatras, Hepburns and Stones of yesteryear) and you can choose all the components yourself. The clincher? You can also have your name on them so if you lose them they might even find their way back to you.