Hop, skip and a world away

As we start to make somewhat of a dent in this brand new year (mine still in its original packaging – MINT! – as 2016 continues to die hard with a stubborn cold and badly time-manged deadlines I’d inherited from pre-holiday frenzy), I realise that I had unknowingly scratched off a bucket list item in the infamous year that will probably go down in history as this one word: Asshole. The funny part of this is though, I had no idea Scotland (and a nine-hour car drive) was even on my bucket list.

Now, this is in no way a passive dig at our Northerly neighbours or the tourism board’s general gallant efforts. If it helps to explain things, according to many of my well-informed Londoners (and non-Londoners alike), one of the best seafood joint in town is mere 3 minute around the corner from my flat. Eleven years on, I am yet to set foot in this establishment.

Some have cried that it’s basically a crime, especially should you love oysters (+ wine and soda bread) as passionately I do. “LATER!” is the battle cry. Now apply the same dawdle-logic to Scotland, and voila – the allegory works, right down to the oyster detail*.

Alas, I had an appointment to keep, Tuesday 29th, 11:30AM at the factory doorsteps of Chanel group’s renowned knitwear suppliers: Barrie. On Monday 28th, exactly 24hours prior, we loaded a car with three strapping men (more on this later) and a suitcase-load of Chanel/Barrie samples. We knew not what the road held in store for us – only snacks and wholehearted road-trip joshing – but once we crossed that border in Gretna Green, every hour it scratched at the new-fangled bucket-list item: Scotland.

*After having sampled fresh-picked rock oysters off Fort William after this very shoot, it transpires that indeed it was a crime to have lived without said Scottish jewel.

full look CHANEL AW 2016 knitwear produced at BARRIE

There is no better way to interpret Karl’s ‘Front Row Only’ Chanel AW16 collection at the helm of what is possibly Great Britain’s best scenery, silently but majestically unfolding atop our very windshield, and Barrie’s cream-cashmere in its own home ground. The setting is somewhat reminiscent of the immaculately cow-mowed rolling hills of Austria, save for the mob of sheep and mossy rocks, underneath one highly expressive heavens. FREEDOM! It seemed to cry (a la a certain M.Gibson), as we ambled about the glen (valley) on the look for backdrops. We were spoilt for choice. In a sense, within the medley of sepia, fir green and cloud greys, broken up only by a tuft of spruce forest with a wisp of fog in its hair, the landscape was that of nature’s best couture salon.

More on Barrie soon, I promise.