James Smith & Sons

You can buy pretty much everything in London, with the exception of maybe a decently priced meal worth its value in poundage.  And it is that commercial prestige that becomes concentrated in the extreme when culture and necessity combine.

Somewhere in the 18th century, a man called Jonas Hanway walked London's streets with a hitherto unseen item, he was reputedly the first man in London with an umbrella.  As the story goes, London coachmen would greet him with the phrase "Frenchman, Frenchman! Why don't you call a coach?"  to which, in my imagination anyway, Hanway probably responded with "Allo, mon pote, je marche ici!"*

Anyway, all this is building up to James Smith & Sons.  They sell umbrellas and walking sticks.  All of them.  This is the cornucopia of both items, the sacred heart of things with handles.  It doesn't get any more card-carrying cliche than this as far as I'm concerned, but in typical English style they take their business very seriously indeed. 

Its the sort of store that seems to employ only Oxbridge graduates. For all I know, that's probably not a strategy they can be faulted for in the world of walking stick sales.  All of this is just an excessively verbose way of saying that they know their product and they know their market.  Looking around, its pretty clear that they've reached the pinnacle, their aren't any commercial strategies they need to implement, they don't need to promote synergy; if businesses were string instruments, this one is a Stradivarius. 

They were the first to put the new invention of Fox steel umbrella frames into use in 1848.  So basically, if you have one of those (i.e. everyone), drop by and say thanks sometime.

The range is astounding, I've always been a little fascinated by walking sticks in particular.  I still sort of wish that I'd been born with some sort of withering or disfigurement that would give me cause to use one without pretension, societal embarrassment or the need to invest in a purple suit and matching bling.  I'm a little like a jealous hipster with 20-20 vision, my life is a mess in this regard.

And so, I was curious to see what they had on offer, perhaps in lieu of a birth defect I might one day be blessed with a wayward lorry at a zebra crossing and it pays to be prepared.

Well, there was quite a collection.  In the same way that their is quite a collection of krill in the ocean, or particles of dust in the known universe.  Essentially, if you were wondering if James Smith & Sons has that one thing that you want on a walking stick their answer would be yes, very much yes, unequivocally yes, because we've pretty much covered every option in existence.  

The elusive Canadian Musk-Oxen? They're between the dogs and French Ponies. A giraffe? Easily done sir.  A marble cast of Napoleon's thumb? But of course, a fine choice sir.  A bambo inlay of David Bowie and Winston Churchill winning the annual Northumberland Polo championships against the Eurythmics.  Yes. Everything. Yes.

Essentially this place is like a mix between the Tardis and the Garden of Eden, so obscure are some of the items that the building seems to be extra-dimensional.  It wouldn't suprise me, witnessing an infinity of umbrella's does that to a man.  Michael bought a lovely green hand umbrella as a gift for his mother because, unlike me, he knows what you are supposed to do in shops.

* Poor translation: Hey buddy!  I'm walking here!