The Kingsman

All my life I’ve wondered who I was…

Losing my twin brother early on, you sort of feel like someone’s stolen a part of you, perhaps Hades has my soul…

Then as you grow, you try to find yourself, you try to put yourself back together, the more you learn, the more you evolve.

A life of martial arts and motorbikes, islands and jungles, always living symbiotic within my own sphere of adrenaline, never quite finding my fit…

When they told me I had a bipolar disorder, I didn’t know what that meant for me, but let me tell you what I’ve learned…

It means I love, I cry, I care; about humanity and ethics, every ounce of my being, shaped into an existence that’s about more than just myself…

A more human level of perception, I’m about people over profits, relationships not defined by social restraints or condemnations…

When I travel in London I see colour, I see shape in architecture, I see the cobbles in the alley, the aging hipster with his handlebar moustache and turnup denims… I see the chef in his whites, in the doorway, taking in the morning catch… I see energy…

I’ve always loved clothing, the variety of style, the fabric, the cut…

Even as a teen, my friends going out in their t-shirts and myself in a waistcoat and tie to offset the jean… And now I get to help define how others perceive themselves.

I get to bestow on them the strength that I have found, in the garments they adorn themselves with; in the way they operate…

In breaking down stigma, I encourage the hospitality and retail markets, the remove the veil of their shrouded vanity and remind themselves of their own truth…

And in doing so I’ve finally found out who I really am… The Kingsman.

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