The Ferrari of Sunglasses

Hooking up with 'JMM'.

At Puck’s Private Dinner at the private room at The Hart with stylist Tom Guinness. I’m wearing the JMMs, a Knatchbull jacket and the pearls my Granny gave me for my 21st, from my cousin jeweller Cassandra Goad. Tish Weinstock, who is married to Tom, took the photo.

Once in a lifetime you meet a pair of sunglasses and it’s love at first sight.

I wouldn’t say I’m the sort who is usually inclined to fall hard for an unsuitable block of acetate, but on this occasion I have. This whirlwind affair has been one of those that was a mystery at the beginning, but became clearer each day I spent with the sunglasses. The better I knew them, the more often I peered through their stunningly clear lenses into the honey-hued world they magicked up, the more my friends got to know them and appreciate them, the more I worshipped them.

Only a couple of weeks ago, infidelity stalked my relationships with sunglasses. I would declare undying love to a pair of face-swamping Tom Fords one minute only to callously cast them off for an Audrey Hepburn-esque pair of Kate Spades when Tom bored me. When those failed to amuse, I cheated with a pair of Oliver Goldsmiths or Chanels on the side.