Olive 8 Wale Cord

The brine was old and the olive was soft, but the salty kick was toe-curlingly good. Straight sucked at the back of your eyeballs. The fridge now empty it was time to leave. You turn to your loved one who is smoking a cigarette out the cracked window. Walking over and resting your hand on their back you say, ‘Time to leave’. Out on the street, the cold air is sharp and dizzying. You turn up the collar of your Olive 8 wale corduroy jacket (part of a suit, but could also be bought as a separate); take your loved one’s hand in yours and then wait for the next cab. Which takes approx fifteen mins.