The midday sun presses down, heavy and golden. The rooftops stretch below - whitewashed walls, painted shutters, the slow drift of laundry catching the heat. From somewhere beyond the square, the scent of grilled fish and wild herbs curls through the air, carried by the faint murmur of voices below. No rush, no need to move - just the quiet pleasure of being exactly where you are.

The Griffon was made for afternoons like this - Italian-woven linen, crisp but unbothered, tailored with just enough precision to belong anywhere without trying. The centre crease holds, the side adjusters keep the fit sharp, but the feeling? Pure ease. A trouser for men who know that sometimes, the best plan is none at all.