It's hard to find a vintage shop without an Instagram page. They all have one but this one didn't.
We were drawn in by a Ralph Lauren hoodie hung outside intrigued, we entered a little shop near the market.
It caught my eye not immediately £25, straight off the rack and I took it out back.
Tried it on in a changing room where you would stumble putting on your shoe
and fall out onto the shop floor.
Bright red like the right-handed scissors in primary school, but more like the red that you see kids wear smokin in the street.
Three white stripes down each sleeve pure white.
I rolled the sleeves always too long- and never too short.
Unpopular opinion, but I preferred it unzipped.
The owner was scrubbing leather jackets at the till with as much tenderness as a father would wipe their baby's bottom.
In the business for over twenty years, he knew what he was doing 'We keep a low profile'
The corners of his eyes were creased like the wrinkles in my unbelievably cool jacket.
I smiled back at him wanting to make a good impression on the exchange student next to me who had bought the Ralph Lauren hoodie.
in Bristol, we call strangers 'me lover' and friends 'me babber' all chums and bums.
I've had a cigarette butt thrown at my feet, and a homeless woman, begging for a quid 'sorry love, I ain't got no change' 'that's alright my love, god bless you'
you too I never said.
cuz I just spent twenty-five bank on my unbelievably cool jacket
that I've only worn twice.