The Shadow of Great Britain

311: Chapter 200 The Failed Legislator, Successful Fashionista (4K)_2 311: Chapter 200 The Failed Legislator, Successful Fashionista (4K)_2 “Alexander drowned?” Disraeli startled, “His manuscript for next month hasn’t been submitted yet!”

Arthur said calmly, “No, don’t panic, Benjamin.

If Alexander drowned, it would indeed be a tragedy.

But if he didn’t drown, that would be a disaster.

And I believe, with Alexander’s size, even if he fell into the Thames River, he would mostly likely float.

So instead of worrying about him, you might as well tell me more about the perfume shops on Regent Street.”

Having heard this, Disraeli finally realized that Arthur was joking and said with a laugh, “You’d better hope Alexander doesn’t hear you say that.

I’ve heard he recently bought a fine gun and even came over the other day to show it off.

With you mocking him like this, if you aggravate him, he might just come and challenge you to a duel.”

“That would be rather good, wouldn’t it?” Arthur glanced at the empty tobacco pouch he pulled from his pocket, “If he comes to duel me, then the fine gun would be mine.”

Disraeli also noticed Arthur’s empty tobacco pouch, “Out of tobacco?

Why don’t we go to a tobacco shop first?

I know of a good one on Jermyn Street.

Ever since Eld left, you haven’t been able to get your hands on the genuine smuggled goods from the Royal Navy, right?”

Arthur nodded slightly, “Occasionally, I can still get some from the West Indies docks, but the flavor is truly not as strong as Eld’s goods.

Since you recommend it so highly, let’s go and take a look on Jermyn Street first.

If I remember correctly, there should also be a perfume shop there, right?”

“No, no, no,” Disraeli corrected him while leading the way, “Jermyn Street only sells cologne specifically for men.

As for women’s perfumes, like London’s old brands Floris, Creed, or the French Bleu, Guerlain, and such, you have to look on Regent Street.”

As they walked through the bustling streets, Arthur pushed up the monocle that couldn’t see its remaining value and asked,

“How come you’re so familiar with these things?

I know you’re a writer and a lawyer at the same time, but I didn’t expect you to be so knowledgeable about the fashion world,”

Disraeli, upon hearing this, simply twisted his collar with pride, “You see, Arthur, this is where you’re uninformed.

Whether a writer or a lawyer, in the end, it’s all about dealing with people.

I’m a fashion novelist, so to write good fashion novels, I must understand what the latest trends are.

“As for being a lawyer, although I no longer practice, a truly capable lawyer’s value is not only in winning cases, but also in continuously receiving new ones.

Without expanding one’s social circle and becoming the shining star of the parties, there’s no way to have a long career in law,” he said.

Arthur nodded slightly, “That seems to make some sense.

How’s the progress on your recent plans to expand your social circles?”

Disraeli looked as if he had been waiting for this question, proudly pulling out a somewhat creased newspaper from his pocket and unfurling it in front of Arthur, “Take a look, come on, Arthur, tell me what it says there?”

Bending over to look, Arthur read out word for word, “Today’s fashion recommendation is from the emerging fashion star Mr.

Benjamin Disraeli, who will be sharing his thoughts on frock coat attire for the first time in this column.

An orange waistcoat, a pair of red trousers, and added to that a short frock coat—this is this year’s most stylish casual gentleman’s outfit.

As everyone knows, frock coats are becoming the new favorite among London’s gentlemen, and what makes my frock coat stand out is the novel pleating technique I’ve employed at the waist, creating a perfectly smooth curve that accentuates the slender line of the body.

Here are my thoughts on pleating…”

Disraeli’s grin widened as he listened, his pride and satisfaction almost as evident as the horse tied to the lamp post, munching oats, could see.

“Arthur, how about that?

You didn’t expect that, did you?

I’m pretty much on my way to becoming an important figure in the London fashion scene just like Mr.

Brummell,” he boasted.

Arthur looked at Disraeli and then slowly shook his head, “Whether you become a leading figure or not, I don’t think that is so important, but maybe you should be a little more honest with your readers.”

“Honest?” Disraeli said displeased, “Where have I not been honest?

I’ve given the readers all there is to know about pleating without reservations.”

“Of course, but that’s not what I’m talking about,” Arthur pointed at Disraeli’s slender waist and said, “What I mean is this, your slim waist has nothing to do with how you pleat.

A man’s waist being this slender, I strongly suspect that you’ve been wearing women’s corsets.”

Disraeli, upon hearing this, instantly flushed red like a mouse whose tail had been stepped on, and he muttered under his breath, “Damn it!

Arthur, how did you figure it out?”

Of course, Arthur wasn’t going to reveal that he got his inspiration from Monsieur Victor of France.

He simply replied, “Benjamin, don’t forget that I am a policeman and a detective.

Whatever you’ve done, I can see it at a glance.

But…”

Arthur reached out and plucked at Disraeli’s collar, and with a snap, the elastic band flew back and hit Disraeli’s shoulder blade, causing him almost to cry out in pain.

Arthur exclaimed in surprise, “You actually wore it?”

“What else?” Disraeli replied indignantly, “That’s it, you and I know about this, no one else can know.”

“Not even God?”

“Of course not, if He found out, He would smite me with divine punishment!”

“If you really were that god-fearing, you wouldn’t have done such a thing in the first place.”

“Shut up, Arthur!”

Arthur and Disraeli bickered all the way, drawing the glances of passing gentlemen and ladies who couldn’t help but glance at them.

However, this sort of attention didn’t last long, as most people figured it was probably just some banker and his partner arguing over some financial dispute.

Such matters were not too uncommon in London, and nothing to make a fuss about.

The two of them, arguing and fussing, entered a shop on Jermyn Street with a sign that read “Gentlemen’s Speciality, Ladies Keep Out” and were greeted by a pleasant jingle as they pushed open the door.

The shop assistant standing guard at the door took in their attire and then Disraeli’s familiar face, and with a polite smile, said, “Mr.

Disraeli, you’re a regular customer.

I won’t bother you with the usual spiel.

You and your friend can pick for yourselves.

If you have any requests, just let me or the other assistants know.”

As soon as Disraeli entered the shop, he reined in his boisterous demeanor and adopted a serious, stern expression, resembling a true London gentleman.

“Thank you very much.

Today, I’ve brought my friend to pick out some tobacco and cologne, among other things.

My friend here is particularly finicky, having gotten used to the genuine stuff from the West Indies.

Do you carry authentic Santo Domingo goods here?

Don’t think of bluffing us, we’ll know if it’s real just by tasting it,” Disraeli said.

The assistant, hearing this, simply smiled and said, “Mr.

Disraeli, now, listen to yourself.

Our goods might be pricier than elsewhere, but the quality is top-notch.

Seems like the regular stock on the first floor won’t catch your eye today.

Take your friend directly to the second floor.

Choose anything you like there, and if you detect even a hint of a fake, you’re always welcome to return it to our shop.”

Disraeli then asked, “Is it the same with the cologne?”

Smiling, the assistant replied, “You’re in luck today.

We’ve just had a new perfumer join our store.

After you and your friend have picked out your tobacco, you can go straight to the perfume room at the back and request a specially tailored fragrance.

All the raw materials, any scent you want, just name it, and it’ll be made on the spot and delivered to you on the spot.

With such a process in place, we couldn’t possibly fake it right under your nose, could we?”