Why We started slowtime mondays - rich

28 Sept

Slowtime Mondays didn’t begin with a business plan, a spreadsheet or a meeting.

It began years ago, in conversations down the pub with my great mate Macca.

We would sit there for hours, putting the world to rights and talking about the shop we would love to create—somewhere that brought together everything we cared about. Football, music, clothes, films and the whole culture surrounding them.

Not just another menswear shop.

Not somewhere cold, polished and soulless.

A proper place. A place with heart. A place with character. A place that felt like us.

Those conversations were full of big ideas and even bigger dreams. The sort of conversations where anything feels possible. We could picture the doors opening, the music playing and the rails full of clothes. We imagined people walking in and immediately knowing they had found somewhere different.

Somewhere that understood them.

Somewhere they belonged.

In 2015, I also spoke to Jack Hobbs about the idea in great detail. I knew exactly how I wanted it to feel. I could see the clothes. I could hear the music. I could imagine the people, the conversations, the atmosphere and the energy.

The dream was alive inside me.

I just couldn’t quite drag it out of my head and make it real.

Life moved on, as it does. Years passed, things changed and other responsibilities took over.

But the idea never left me.

It stayed buried somewhere deep inside, refusing to disappear. No matter how much time passed, it kept coming back. Quietly at first, then louder.

It was always there, waiting for me to finally have the courage to listen to it.

Fast-forward to 2026.

I was at home, in a difficult place in my life, rather boringly stripping wallpaper. I felt lost. I knew something had to change, but I didn’t know what that change looked like.

Then The Jam’s “That’s Entertainment” came on.

And I heard the words:

“Days of speed and Slowtime Mondays , pissing down with rain on a boring Wednesday.”

I stopped.

Everything stopped.

It hit me straight in the chest.

I’m fucking having that.

And then it felt as though the whole thing fell from the sky.

The name.

The feeling.

The memories of those conversations with Macca.

The plans I had discussed with Jack all those years earlier.

The clothes. The music. The football. The films. The friendships. The culture. The reason I had wanted to do it in the first place.

It all came crashing back into my life at once.

Suddenly, this idea I had carried around for so many years didn’t feel like a dream anymore.

It felt like something I had to do.

Something I needed to do.

I had that fire in me again. That proper, burning feeling in my gut that tells you to move, to fight and to create something that matters.

I wanted to build a terrace and casual menswear shop with a real identity. A shop that understood where people came from, what the clothes meant and why they mattered.

Not just clothes on rails.

Not just logos and brands on a wall.

Something with meaning.

Something with a heartbeat.

Something real.

Life is too short.

Fuck it. I had to speak to someone.

I called Lloyd, and he was round mine for a brew pretty much straight away. I poured out everything that had been racing around in my head—the shop, the clothes, the culture, the music, the feeling and everything it could become.

I probably spoke at a hundred miles an hour.

But Lloyd got it.

He somehow managed to reach inside my head, pull out the dream and begin turning it into a proper business. He gave the idea structure. He challenged me, pushed me and made me believe that this thing could actually happen.

He took all the noise, emotion and chaos in my head and helped turn it into something real.

That was the moment Slowtime Mondays truly came alive.

I’m doing this because I absolutely fucking love the subculture.

I love the football.

I love the music.

I love the fashion.

I love the films.

I love the stories.

I love the attitude.

I love the people.

I love the feeling of belonging to something that has been passed down through generations. The way football, music and clothes become woven into your identity. The way a particular record, jacket or pair of trainers can take you straight back to a moment in your life.

A first match.

An away day.

A night out.

A first love.

A best mate.

A song you had forgotten.

A version of yourself you thought had disappeared.

That is what clothes can do.

That is what music can do.

That is what this culture can do.

A jacket can be so much more than a jacket. It can carry memories. It can give you confidence when you have none. It can reconnect you with who you are—or remind you of who you still want to become.

I love that feeling when you put on a new top or jacket, look in the mirror and feel so fucking good.

You stand a little taller.

You feel sharper.

You feel stronger.

You feel ready to take on the world.

For that moment, whatever else is happening in your life disappears. You walk out of the door feeling like yourself again—maybe even a better version of yourself.

And I love it when someone stops you and says:

“Nice jacket, mate. Where did you get it?”

That feeling matters.

It matters because clothes are never just clothes.

They are confidence.

They are memories.

They are identity.

Sometimes, they are the armour you put on before stepping back out into the world.

Reading hasn’t got a proper independent menswear shop that represents what people like me are about.

A shop that understands the connection between football, music, fashion and everyday life.

A shop that understands the pride, the passion and the history behind the clothes.

A shop that knows the difference between simply selling somebody a jacket and helping them find something that makes them feel fucking brilliant.

I want Slowtime Mondays to be that place.

I want it to be somewhere you can walk through the door and immediately feel welcome.

Somewhere you can be completely yourself.

Somewhere you don’t have to explain why a jacket matters, why a record still gives you goosebumps or why a football match from years ago remains burned into your memory.

Somewhere the music is right, the conversation is honest and the clothes have been chosen because they mean something.

Somewhere we can talk about football, music, films, clothes and life.

Somewhere you might discover a new brand, hear a brilliant record, remember an old one or find a jacket that makes you feel ten feet tall.

Somewhere you can come in for a look and end up staying for a chat.

Somewhere that feels like more than a shop.

Because Slowtime Mondays has to be about more than selling clothes.

It has to have a soul.

It has to stand for something.

It has to make people feel something.

It’s about belonging.

It’s about confidence.

It’s about friendship.

It’s about memories.

It’s about culture.

It’s about finding something that feels completely and unmistakably you.

It’s about getting that feeling back—the one you used to get when you bought something new, put it on and couldn’t wait to go out and show the world.

The excitement.

The pride.

The swagger.

That little piece of magic that comes from looking in the mirror and knowing you feel fucking great.

This shop has been years in the making.

It was born from conversations down the pub. It was built on old dreams, strengthened by friendship, carried through difficult times and finally brought to life by the realisation that you cannot keep putting your dreams off forever.

At some point, you have to stop talking.

You have to stop waiting for the perfect time, because the perfect time doesn’t exist.

You have to stop promising yourself that you will do it “one day.”

You have to take the fear, the doubt and every reason not to do it—and go for it anyway.

You have to take the risk.

You have to put your heart on the line.

You have to believe that the thing keeping you awake at night might be the very thing capable of bringing you back to life.

Life is short.

Too fucking short.

Sometimes you have to say, “Fuck it,” trust what is burning inside you and chase the dream that refuses to leave you alone.

That’s why I started Slowtime Mondays.

Because Reading deserves a shop with heart.