A Child of the Jago

If John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester came across the Delorean Time Machine (flux capacitor in perfect working order) and crashed it into the Great Eastern Street, then decided to open a Man's boutique, it might aspire to be like Child of the Jago.

Blood red and grey, one inch striped, silk, no waste band, front pleated, tapered with one inch turn up trousers are what I remember most, but you can also buy a hells angels leg (below) or a cut throat razor, or vintage ceremonial, military and tradesmanswear. The reversible black velvet/silk print bomber jacket depicting orgiastic excess (above) is also pretty spectacular.

Curated by Barnzley Armitage and (Sir) Joseph Corre, you will not have seen anything like it elsewhere. Upstairs features their own designs including the aforementioned badass silk pants (I am size 36, by the way). Descend to the basement and the only thing more authentic than the air of depravity and debauchery the selections exude is the odour of historic Libertine London. 

Mr. Hare champions this kind of pioneering, devil may care retailing. These are shoe men of the highest order and I salute them. 

Call +44(0)207 377 8694 for your own sake.