I find Cottweiler’s vision of sportswear interesting. It has a tribalism and nods to scally fetishism behind it that makes it bigger in vision than a key brand in driving the preoccupation with all things “road” right now. Everyone banging on about “roadmen” always omits the bizarre imposed rules, shoulder bags, and fact they’d shit themselves in the presence of the folk they’re mix and matching slang from. I rate Nines’ Armani Exchange garms or Potter Payper’s True Religion chino shoutout over dudes in Stoney and TNs calling people sidemen on Snapchat. You don’t see too much on Cottweiler’s whole design rationale, which makes the SHOWStudio interview from a week ago doubly insightful — they shoot down any notion that they’re trying to glamorise working class aesthetics, which is something I thought that the brand was all about. Seeing as we Brits are never more than a 10 minute drive from a sports chain, gleaming leather shoes and trackies pretty much transcend class barriers to be part of our societal fabric. I like wandering into Sports Direct because its shoe collection is so alien — like a parallel universe compared to the done-to-death blog and IG silhouettes.

An impending G-Depp memoir written entirely in verse is an oddly intriguing proposition that might be a good supplement to Mark Curry’s Bad Boy tell-all, but in the meantime Andrew Brown’s None of the Bad Ones is on Amazon right now in physical or Kindle form. I enjoyed a lot of Brown’s Boys Life Kindle compilation and this one is good too. I think the whole skate erotica tag was misleading, but there’s definitely a 00s downtown Jay McInerney feel to it. It’s interesting to read something in the voice of a jaded thirtysomething in that strange no-man’s land between young man and a proper adult, rather than a snotty youth worldview. Brown is an interesting writer, and I recommend reading some bar-hopping, casual promiscuity, advancing age agonising this holiday season.