A vintage valentines gentleman

This made me smile yesterday on a particularly horrible commute home last night;

I live in a rather lovely block of flats built in the 1930s, with lovely art deco style windows and doors. One of the other residents is a rather remarkable old gent (I hesitate to speculate on age, but he's certainly silvery haired) who can only be said to dress in exquisitely vintage gentleman's attire. In the winter, he goes out perfectly groomed with his grey pinstriped trousers, black overcoat umbrella and bowler hat. I wondered at first whether he was just one of those City workers who still dress in the old bankers uniform, but in the summer he instead appears in a blazer, boater and cane. He looks entirely fabulous in each, and the boater particularly always makes me smile, as I always imagine he is off to a tete-a-tete with some glamourous older lady.

Anyway, last night I was experiencing a horrendous journey home. The tubes and train were crammed with people either trying to get home for valentines evening or trying to get out for a valentines date, and then the Central line went down, causing massive overcrowding. When I finally got on a train home, the commuters were all, like me, in a thoroughy foul mood. Then there was some kind of 'incident' on a train ahead, and we were all trapped on a hugely crowded train stuck in the middle of no-where, being diverted to Staines.

Now, I was lucky enough to have a seat, but these commuter trains are a pretty horrendous experience if you're standing and it's crowded. I have fainted on them myself in the past, and seen others do so too. Some poor lass was apparently showing signs of doing just that, as suddenly a melifuous male voice insisted that this girl take his seat. I turned around to see that it was this very same fabulous old gent, despite being the elder of the two, offering, nay insisting that she take his seat, as she clearly needed it more. The poor girl protested but he was quite firm. Then, when a couple of stops later, she got off the train, he insisted one of the other ladies left standing take the seat despite her offering it to him.

So this perfectly attired gentleman (with a quite remarkable voicem it must be said!) proved himself to be a true gentleman in action as well (unlike any of the other blokes on the train, it has to be noted). This somehow pleases me immensley, and really does make the point that vintage is not just about age, it's about quality too.