![The floor of Crockett & Jones in Northampton, UK.](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_728,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F26560e6e-772b-4c82-b329-5e07f860cd00_2048x1358.jpeg)
There are certain memories in my journey with clothes that stand out. I remember not knowing the difference between peak and notch lapels until my twenties. I was working in my second job and I was an assistant on an account that was sending tuxedos for celebrities to wear at the Oscars. No one wore suits growing up and we never talked about them. I also remember the day that I figured out what a Barbour coat was. I remember being a poor New York resident saving the money to buy one. (I still have that jacket.) Growing up I had virtually no exposure to what now might be considered heritage brands, with one exception: Red Wing.
The classic 875 boot was in my lexicon and my closet before anything else. It all started when I worked doing manual labor for my dad. I like to joke that I was conscripted starting Saturdays as a high school freshman, but in reality doing that work was a joy. My dad would say he was teaching me what direction not to take my career, but I loved every bit of it. There's such a great feeling of accomplishment when you can physically see the work you have done. Working alongside an ever changing cast of hard-drinking blue collar guys as a 13 year old was probably the thrill of my young life. Through it all I was wearing Red Wing boots.