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Never has anybody, ever, woke up and thought ‘Oh my God, I completely forgot that I own no clothes. Absolutely none. Not a stitch. Looks like it’s going to be another naked week—good job I tidied up downstairs.’ That just doesn’t happen. And those amongst us who do seem to be nude are either a) naturists likely living in a lifestyle-appropriate community b) taking part in a new look-at-me charity spectacle, or c) on some sort of closely monitored government list.

We buy clothes, and all other lovely stuff, not because we lack them but because we want them. Desire them. Need to own and caress and be near them. To define ourselves a bit better. As American artist Barbara Kruger comments in her work: ‘I shop therefore I am’. And that’s alright. It’s all part of the human experience—especially the buying things bit.

Someone who knows this more than most is Sir Paul Smith. He’s been making us want for nearly 40 years now. It was in the infancy of the 1970s when a wide-eyed working class lad from Nottingham opened his first shop doors. By ‘76 after a string of evening classes in design, and the help of his RCA educated then-girlfriend-now-wife, Paul Smith established his very own menswear line. It didn’t take very long at all before he was a household name, revered for the craft of his clobber. Superb tailoring is his thing. And prints. All of those zeitgeist-poking prints.

THE STRIPE

It’s no secret Paul Smith has a thing for the stripe. The two have shared a sort of symbiotic relationship over the years. His logo comes striped, so too his designs. Stripes lavish the interiors of his boutiques. Even carrier bags. In turn he’s given the humble pattern many a facelift. For summer it comes chevroned, and in traditional linear format—gussied up in a rainbow ombré that creeps from dark teal and navy into sunny peaches, pinks and white. The very same colours glimpsed throughout the collection’s progression.

THE PLANT

Many designers within the house’s creative team have green thumbs, keen horticulturists adept at growing ferns and succulents and other potted whatsits — resulting in the plants print this season. The Venice Biennale, and Giardini (the park where you can find the artsy happening) also offer brain food. Oh, and don't mind the cannabis leaves hidden amongst the garden-variety greenery. No prescription necessary. Its addition is a statement on counter culture, and the high/lowbrow eclecticism of the art world.

THE PAISLEY

Lifted from an antique print screen then rejigged in-house, Paul Smith’s paisley is pumped up with faded-but-fresh colours. The great-grandfather of prints is made desirable once again; casual even. There’s a nostalgia too, a reminiscing, but with the hindsight of our contemporary vantage point. Take the updated ease of wide-leg trousers, so fluid in a couture-weight techy satin that they almost ripple. The complete opposite to their stiff 1920s ancestors. That same satin is juxtaposed against jersey on sweatshirts, tracksuit bottoms and bomber jackets—new menswear essentials, all three.

THE HAND

Paul Smith is a ‘60s child. It was the era of social revolution, when so many bras got burnt and flowers garlanded. Music and art were kicking off as well, especially pop art, which left a lasting impression on our Paul. Cue the hand print. It’s a little slice of that cut and paste, pop pastiche philosophy. Don’t look for any hidden meaning though. The print is no mirror held up against society’s image or anything like that. It’s just a little humour from one of our favourite Brit designers.