Sometimes, your mother is right. I've learnt not to yell or screech in retaliation, but to heed the advice. SOME times. In nearly all other circumstances please do exactly the opposite of what she says or else you'll never learn the hard way. But when she's got you in the clutches of her sixth sense, don't squirm. She's probably psychic anyway. All mums are. And often, a touch of women's intuition is the best medicine. You know? When she just gets you? This rings true with my wardrobe. When a brand gets me, it's pretty psychic too.

Far up along Guildford high street sits Whistles. A pokey, olde English shoppe revamped with chalky white walls, oak floors and more chalky white walls. You might know that Whistles does menswear now. The only recollection I have before then is sitting awkwardly on a solemn stool in a corner of the women's changing room, not quite eight years old, as mum tried on dresses for an aunt's wedding. Whistles were patient to dip into men's. In fact, the label waited 30 odd years and since launching with womenswear in the 1980s have only very recently (since 2014) ventured into our domain. Unlike other top-tier high street brands, such as Jigsaw, the approach design director Nick Passmore took was humble and honed in on the essentials. And so a 'capsule wardrobe' for the modern man was created. Navy blue, grey, black and white on the palette, naturally. Classic, chunky shoes and minimal, luxe trainers fashioned. Pea coats and suits with t-shirts and the like finished off the assembly into a thoughtful and attractive collection. I knew they were on to something then, but it was all pretty obvious. You can't go wrong with navy jeans and a white t-shirt, but of course they went there. A little predictable.

I darted past a few pretty young things in the womenswear entrance, through the double-heighted ceiling with charming wooden beams, I thought, ducking under one as I went, and there in the back stood a few rails and a large table with the new SS15 spread of Whistles for men. This time: a perfect black leather jacket, perforated shorts, buttery soft sweaters and printed swim shorts with palm leaves (which caught me off guard, fishing for my size and tucking a pair under my arm). Here is a brand that started where it meant to go on and once established, can only now explore the field for the Whistles' gent in question. The sad thing? There wasn't another man in sight. Actually, no, one fellow was slumped up next to the desk by the till giving the girl behind the till the 'what is she like?' look as his wife scooted off to grab another skirt mid-transaction. I empathise. Anyway. It made me think, as I paid up and began walking back down the hill, past hoards of blokes in Burton and Topman, that to find the very best of something, be it yourself, someone you love or something you love, an outsider's perspective can work wonders. That's evident for Whistles and I'm glad the time was taken before they embarked on such a tiresome job of creating a language that the modern man will buy into. And I dig it.

Whistles