In the newspaper industry, they call this silly season. Everyone is on holiday and nothing much happens, so methods for dealing with seagulls (you stare them down, apparently) or stories about crossbow-armed fugitives escaping on jet skis get bumped up to “of public interest” status, not that either shouldn’t concern us. But for the fashion industry, this is a big moment: it’s when the first glimpses of the new season’s stock start coming through and, while it might still be the middle of August, you’re made to seriously think about your choice of winter coat.

I haven’t got that far quite yet, but I have slung a few autumnal items on my Wish List. But, with one eye on the jolly yellow sun that currently isn’t on show through the windows at MR PORTER’s London HQ, there is more than a single pop of colour in the mix.

My favourite things about Sir Paul Smith are (not necessarily in this order): his fantastic clothes (especially the suits, but not forgetting the socks); his love of cycling; the fact that his wife is called Pauline. I already own one of his dependable Soho blazers, but not in this colour, which has something of a Sgt. Pepper vibe to it. Speaking of which…

In the distant future, perhaps my son or daughter will sport – or even design – a sweater emblazoned with the MR PORTER logo, in tribute to my work for this journalistic organ of the fashion industry. Not that my body of work is in any way comparable to that of Ms Stella McCartney’s old man, Sir Paul McCartney, obviously. Proof that nepotism isn’t just for Blue Meanies or that the apple never falls far from the, er, Apple Corps. (I guess it was either this or a tie-in vegetarian sausage.)

I have black Vans, I have white Vans… And that’s it. What I don’t have is green and yellow Eras… yet. They’ll make for a vibrant addition to the ever-swelling pile of canvas skate shoes under my desk.

In my day, these were called bum bags, because that’s where you wore them. Back then, this water-resistant model by Sealand Gear, known as Moon, was probably a load of old single-use plastic and, if it was lucky, a sailcloth. Reborn as a handy carrier, it’s swapping adventures on the high seas (either as part of a spinnaker or the Pacific trash vortex) for a trip to the supermarket while ferrying my keys.

If it wasn’t for Mr Serge Gainsbourg, we wouldn’t have the concept album Histoire de Melody Nelson and Mr David Holmes would have very little to sample. But apart from his musical legacy, he also had formidable style chops, too, not to mention a lot of Gallic flair. Hung in my hallway, this portrait by Sonic Editions is a reminder to add a certain je ne sais quoi to that day’s outfit. (Not je ne sais pas pourquoi, which is a song by Ms Kylie Minogue.)