The Irish Exit

Or, what I've been building

I owe you an explanation for my disappearing act.

No dramatic reason. No crisis of faith in menswear. I didn’t retreat to a monastery to contemplate the perfect trouser break (though some days it felt close). I simply walked away from this space without a word, and that deserves better than silence.

The truth is, I’ve been building something.

Last June, an opportunity landed in my lap that I couldn’t ignore: a new retail store opening in the exact same space where I’d run a haberdashery for years before departing in 2022. An extension of an existing store, they said. Part-time help, they said.

Reader, it was not part-time.

It also became immediately clear that the planning had been, shall we say, optimistic. The kind of optimism that assumes things will simply work themselves out through sheer force of enthusiasm. If you’ve ever worked in retail, you know how that story usually ends.

But here’s the thing: I saw the possibility of something special. After meeting with ownership and laying out what would actually be required to create a truly successful store, we made a decision that was either brilliant or completely mad, probably both. We’d do a complete 90-day reboot. While keeping the store open and operating daily. Very ambitious.

All new products. All new look. New technology. New name. Everything but the walls.

Looking back, summer was a non-stop blur of strategic planning and tactical execution. Five trade shows in six weeks to buy for two seasons. Thank God I wasn’t alone. This was a heavy lift that required a team effort. On day 88, we reopened.

And until this week, it never slowed down.

What began as a part-time position evolved into a full partnership. The store had a very successful fall and holiday season. Our product and service have been met with incredible support and genuine customer enthusiasm. We’ve created an elevated casual store focused on “everyday style”, high quality and natural fibers. It’s approachable yet refined, with real style that works from countryside to city streets. A unique blend of brands, styles and products that shine against the ever flattening sameness we’re being sold everywhere else these days. Truly a store built on taste.

In the coming months, we’ll be refining our offerings and expanding to include made-to-measure. The journey continues.

But that journey consumed every ounce of my focus and energy, which is why I haven’t been here.

Here’s what I’ve learned about work like this: it demands total immersion. Early mornings walking the floor before the world wakes, late nights wrestling with what worked and what needs rethinking. Every choice, from the hand of a fabric to how light falls across a display, carries weight. It’s relentless. And it’s also deeply nourishing in ways I didn’t anticipate.

There’s a particular kind of meaning in building something physical, something people can walk into and touch and experience. When someone discovers exactly what they’ve been searching for, when a conversation about a sweater becomes a conversation about how they want to move through the world, that is not just commerce. That’s harmony. That’s resonance. That’s proof the work matters. And it inflates you rather than deflates you, reminding you why you began in the first place.

My mantra lately has been simple: be the joy you want to attract, and work hard. Difficulties strengthen the mind as labor does the body. Lead with gratitude, but lead forward.

This project has been both the difficulty and the joy. It tested everything I thought I knew and taught me what I actually know. It drained me completely and filled me back up in equal measure. The kind of work that feeds your soul even as it demands everything from it.

This space has always been where I reflect on my philosophy of style and try to distill it into something purposeful and useful. It’s been valuable and meaningful to me, and I hope it has been for you as well. I’ve missed it, and I’d like to return. This time with even more lessons from the trenches of actually building and operating what I believe a modern specialty store should be. A place where customer service isn’t an obligation, but an art form. Product knowledge isn’t a recitation of trivial marketing, but lived experience.

The gap between theory and practice has a way of teaching you things no amount of reflection can. Over the years I’ve learned a thing or two.

So I’m back, with stories to tell and ideas to share. And I’m curious: What would you like to explore? What questions do you have? What topics should we dive into together?

Consider this my return from the Irish exit, hopefully with something worth staying for.

Welcome back. I’ve missed this.