Paul Smith has long been one of Britain’s most beloved designers, and now the iconic fashion house boss is opening up like never before. His new memoir, Threads: My Life in Style, charts an extraordinary journey from a school-leaver in Nottingham with no formal qualifications to a global style authority whose influence stretches far beyond the runway. To mark his 80th birthday in July, Smith lays bare the stories, mishaps and friendships that shaped a career like no other. Here are some of the most delightful revelations from a book that proves there is considerably more to Paul Smith than his famous stripes.
A Nudge, Not a Shove: Redefining British Menswear
Smith’s early ambitions were nothing short of revolutionary for the British male fashion landscape. In the 1970s, he transformed men’s underwear from an afterthought into a statement piece, introducing clashing prints, polka dots and bold stripes in place of the prevailing drab greys and whites. The move effectively catapulted boxers from the bottom of the wardrobe drawer into the pages of fashion magazines. “I always describe my early success as nudging rather than shoving the British male into appreciating the fact that you could be a little different,” Smith writes.
His signature multi-stripe, however, tells a more complicated story. What began as a practical solution to budget constraints in his early days quickly grew into something far bigger. “It began to take on a life of its own,” he admits. Yet the stripe became “a bit of a burden” — a label he could never quite shake. People constantly reminded him of it, and he likened the experience to being Calvin Klein: “You can make beautiful clothes every year but someone will always say, ‘Oh, you’re the one who makes underpants.’ You find yourself having to work around it.”
It was not just his designs that drew comparisons. The press frequently drew unflattering parallels between Smith and American designer Ralph Lauren, a renowned anglophile. Smith says this made him “pissed off” in his early days. “I’ve got far more of a sense of humour, for a start,” he counters. “His shops were always so serious, with the stately-home image and the good-looking models. There was nobody that English in England.”
Socks, Selfies and David Bowie: A Cultural Footprint
Smith’s influence on everyday fashion is perhaps best captured by his accidental creation of a cultural phenomenon. In the 1980s, he says men had just two sock options: plain or argyle. After discovering a pair featuring a paperclip motif during a trip to Japan, he brought the concept home. Today, his company sells more than 700,000 pairs of socks annually. “Quite often when I’m introduced to someone new he’ll say, ‘Oh yes — I get your socks for Christmas,'” Smith notes with characteristic charm.
Then there is the famous pink wall. Smith’s Melrose Avenue store in Los Angeles, which opened in 2005, became an unlikely digital sensation once Instagram arrived five years later. The hot-pink facade turned into a selfie magnet, racking up thousands of images under the hashtag #pinkwall and becoming one of the most photographed buildings in California.
Among the many luminaries who passed through Smith’s orbit, David Bowie stands out. The music icon became a devoted fan of Smith’s two-piece suits, including a striking lemon and pink overcheck. After several unannounced visits to the store, Smith invited Bowie for tea, and a lasting friendship took root. Bowie never used Smith’s given name — it was always “Smithy.” “Was he an easy person to be with and to talk to? Only if you were interesting,” Smith recalls. “There was no small talk.”
Rabbits, Popes and Exploding Milk: The Details That Define a Life
Step inside Smith’s office and you enter a world that can only be described as curated chaos. Piles of vinyl records sit alongside 28 bicycles — including the yellow Pinarello that Chris Froome rode to Tour de France victory — a model train set, hundreds of books, oil paintings and a Snoopy telephone. Perhaps most surprisingly, the space is also home to rabbit figurines in every conceivable shape and size. What started as a joke about them being a lucky charm spiralled into an obsession. “Every week I get rabbits of all kinds,” Smith writes. “They’re everywhere. Rabbits made of bronze, felt, plastic, wood, stone. A man in Italy sends me four or five a month, even though I’ve never met him.”
His collaborations read like a who’s who of unexpected partnerships, from cars to crayons, carpets to cycles. One in particular carries a divine seal of approval: Smith was asked to design the leaders’ jerseys for the 2013 Giro d’Italia, including the iconic maglia rosa. He added red piping, signature striping on the left sleeve and a tiny sketch of a cyclist. The jersey was then sent to Pope Francis to be blessed. “I’ve done a lot of collaborations over the years, from cars to crayons, from carpets to cycles, but only one of them, so far as I’m aware, has been personally blessed by the pope,” Smith writes.
Even at 80, Smith remains unmistakably a doer. During lockdown, he continued working from his office alone — until one day he was confronted by a foul smell and discovered that 18 containers of forgotten milk had exploded across the kitchen floor. He spent three hours scrubbing it all up, pausing at one point to wonder, “I wonder if my friend Giorgio Armani is doing something like this now?” When he told colleagues about his cleaning marathon, they responded in unison: “Oh no! Only Paul Smith.” He took that as the highest compliment.
Why it Matters
Paul Smith’s memoir does far more than catalogue a career — it offers a masterclass in how British creativity, humour and stubbornness can reshape an entire industry from the ground up. In an era where fashion is increasingly defined by spectacle and algorithm-driven trends, Threads is a reminder that the most enduring influence often comes from something quieter: a willingness to nudge rather than shove, to find joy in a pair of novelty socks, and to keep showing up, even when it means cleaning up eighteen containers of exploded milk. At a moment when the British fashion sector faces genuine uncertainty about its global standing, Smith’s story feels quietly triumphant — proof that personality, persistence and a healthy sense of self-deprecation can take you an awful long way.
