The Custom Club: The Weekend Architect
We woke him up on a Saturday morning, itching to capture a few shots while the soft, inviting rays out from Twin Peaks poured throughout his humble abode.
He greeted us with tussled curls, akin to the waves he had ridden the morning before our visit, and three creamy Heath ceramic mugs, bearing only the finest Friendo French press. It was our day off, but for him, it was a chance to rid himself of schedules and haolgen bulbs and hunker down with the intent of dulling down the sharpened end of a pencil or two.
He dressed for the afternoon, which would be spent at the ballet. He would find his wife Frances there, but only after her performance. She would dance, tip-toed, like a small starry-eyed gazelle, and he would have the joy of knowing his infatuation would not end at curtain-close.
His morning was effortless and picturesque. His suit - lamb's wool, darts nipped, and shoulders properly sloped - had been cut for he and he alone.
We entered his simplistic world of sea-foam greens, charcoal grays, and candy-bar browns. He let us prop up our feet and stay a while
We couldnt help ourselves but be drawn into the story of a weekend architect.
Photos & Film by Brian Flaherty - Video Editing by Ryan Devisser - Art Direction, Tailoring, & Copy by Ryan Devens