What if I were to tell you that instead of having to schlep around a mall, or a shopping strip, and rifle through racks, and deal with other people, and children, and bad music, and expensive parking, and 19-year-old shopping assistants who wouldn’t know what do with a pair of generous thighs if their life depended on it, there was an alternative. That you could instead drive to a quiet, secluded showroom, out the back of a white-walled country mansion, the garden of which contains an actual, honest-to-goodness band rotunda, and there would be a flat white, or glass of sav, waiting for you. And inside that showroom would be racks of clothes from some of our biggest and brightest local designers, and at its heart would be a fashion…
