Some rooms feel like home. Sometimes they are full of bears.
The Kings Arms is not remarkable on paper. Sticky floor, warm lager, a jukebox with opinions. But at half eleven on a Friday it becomes the most honest room in the city — the place where a held gaze lasts a second longer than it should, and nobody is in a hurry to leave.
This is where the study begins. Not in a lookbook. In the beer garden that somehow becomes everybody's living room.
We keep the receipts. We keep going back. The research is ongoing.