I first became aware of the name John Simons back in the early 1980s. I found his shop on Russell Street, just off the main piazza in Covent Garden and I must have spent ten minutes, just looking at the window. It was a work of art that window, with loafers, and button down shirts, next to a pastel coloured Harrington, slung over the shoulder of a vintage herringbone overcoat.

For someone like me, who was emerging from the cheaper end of mod apparel, and looking for the next level and who was now standing with his nose pressed on the glass and his latest wage packet burning a hole in his trouser pocket, this was one of those life-defining moments.

The fact that Paul Weller was in the shop rifling through the check shirts at that precise moment, bang at the start of his Style Council period, wasn’t a bad sign either. I knew I had discovered something very important, but wasn’t sure what exactly or why?

Of course, I finally went in and was made welcome by the staff, all older men, who were dressed very well, but in a casual understated manner. Only later did I discover their names, but I now know there was John himself, sitting by the big old brass till, sporting chinos, a buttoned down jean shirt – please note, buttons undone, details freaks – a tweed waistcoat and shiny loafers. His assistants, Kenny and Geoff were buzzing around, full of smiles, little nods and quietly and efficiently tidying up the rails and racks.

I didn’t know where to start in all honesty, but then I spotted the shirt pile and played safe and purchased a candy striped three-button pop over, which I still have and wear today. Yes, it still fits!

Over the next few years, I got to know John and the chaps to nod to on entering the shop and gradually the full story of John’s life in retail emerged, and which goes something like this…

Born in the East End in 1940, he was surrounded by many well-dressed uncles who gradually influenced his love of clothes, so much so that in 1955 he set up in business near the Hackney Empire with his first outlet Clothesville.

Many of the sharply dressed and sussed locals loved the look that John was championing, which was heavily influenced by the cool jazz scene of the USA paired with a heavy Ivy League slant.

From Hackney, John then emerged in Richmond in the mid 1960s with The Ivy Shop, where young advertising executives and early skinheads and later suedeheads compared Baracuta jackets and wing tip brogues. John actually named the jacket the ‘Harrington’, after the character Rodney Harrington – played by a young Ryan O’Neal – who appeared in the then hit TV series ‘Peyton Place.’  Mr. O’Neal simply never left home without his Baracuta on.

Next up, Soho and the legendary Squire shop on Brewer Street. I still speak to customers of that shop who become glassy eyed when they talk of the tables in the middle of the shop, upon which were placed shoes like ‘Royals’ and fringe and tassel loafers made exclusively for the shop in a variety of colours.

Then after a few years working wholesale, John emerges in Covent Garden. It was then a bit of backwater in truth, still recovering from its previous life as a fruit and veg market. However John spotted its potential, and as usual he wasn’t wrong. Soon it was buzzing down there.

The same applies to the present day.

When the lease was up in Russell Street, John, now joined in the business by his son Paul, set up shop on Chiltern Street, a good couple of years before it became one of the most desirable retail streets in London.

Number 46 is where they are situated and it is still full of great clothes, but you also hear great modern jazz as your soundtrack upon entering and you’ll gaze at fine original art lining the walls. There is also a nice selection of vintage clobber in there. So, something for most tastes then.

The window displays are now by Paul and are as good as they ever were. The skill has certainly been handed down expertly.

A documentary on John, called ‘A Modernist ‘ is in production for release in early 2018 and I have to declare an interest in it, as I’m one of its producers.

If you had told me back when I had my nose pressed against the shop window all those years ago, that one day I’d doing that, I’d have laughed at you.

But at the same time I would have been delighted to hear it.

John Simons. Long may he continue

Order ‘A Modernist’ on DVD here: