The Rake


If Jeremy Hackett did not exist, the Japanese would have to invent him. In the land of the Chrysanthemum Throne, they have a habit of taking things to serious extremes; after all, they used to revere their emperor as a living god, and when it comes to clothes, Jeremy enjoys a similar level of celebrity, his every sartorial foible slavishly copied. If Jeremy were to be spotted sitting on a deckchair with rolled-up trousers and a knotted handkerchief on his head, the smart young men of Tokyo would present themselves at their places of work thus attired the next morning. The only reason I can imagine that the Roppongi Hills shopping centre has not been renamed the Hackett San Traditional Shopping Village is because Jeremy Hackett is too modest. Pay him such a compliment and with a magisterial wave of a smouldering Hoyo Epicure

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