Back Home, A Prelude To High Summer

High Summer 25 — ‘An Ode To Summer’, Part I is now available.

After years swept up in the rush of distant cities, where ambition collides with time and dreams are measured in Michelin stars and midnight hours, the soul—inevitably—hears the call of home. That quiet but undeniable summons to return. To breathe slower. To be closer.

Vagelis is a friend whose path I seemed always to orbit but never cross—until fate, with its subtle sense of timing, allowed it. For years I had unknowingly admired his craft from afar. During evenings spent dining at Jackson Boxer’s Orasay in Notting Hill—now renamed Dove—I relished the finesse behind every plate, unaware that it was Vagelis, behind the pass, orchestrating the kitchen’s quiet symphony. One dish in particular—a John Dory finished in beef jus—etched itself into memory. Exceptional. A story told through taste. In that intimate, almost hidden dining room that seated twelve at most, we celebrated milestones, toasted with friends, welcomed our parents over oysters and wine. What we didn’t know then: the man behind the flavour shared our obsession for nuance—seven types of pepper, all of one kind, each measured like shades of navy to a trained eye.

Through a mutual friend—Alex, though not our Alex—our circles finally overlapped. And by then, Vagelis had already returned to Greece. As fish swim from coast to coast, so too did this story shift, from metropolis to homeland, from ambition to authenticity. And we, grateful guests of summer, followed.

Days were slow in Greece. Glorious, sun-drenched, and generous. Vagelis welcomed us with humility and warmth. At times, he'd simply begin to slice tomatoes from the market, his movements quiet, intentional, and rooted in memory—assembling the perfect Greek salad as a gesture of kinship. Other times, we’d sit by the sea, waiting half an hour for a bottle of wine to reach our table—not from inefficiency, but from a life lived at a gentler rhythm. There was time to talk. To pause. To live fully in a moment stretched long and golden.

“Why did you come back?” I asked him once, glass in hand.

“This,” he said, gesturing to the sea, the light, the silence, “is why.”

After years in London like New York and Hong Kong—cities that never sleep—he was ready to let the world turn without chasing it. He had gathered his tools, mastered the codes of fine kitchens, built standards from brilliance. But now, he was choosing something else: to listen to instinct. To allow the produce of his land—red mullets, grey mullets, octopus—to lead. To craft from nature, not ego. From his soul, not his CV.

Vagelis believes the chef comes second. Produce is first. The foundation. Like fabric before fashion. It is sacred—unspoiled, primary, essential. It determines everything that follows.

And in this, we see ourselves.

At The Anthology, we have long walked that fine line between tradition and transformation. From the outset, we built not for fleeting trends, but to safeguard something rare: the distinct artistry of craftsmanship and the elegant code of classic menswear. Not because others cannot do it, but because so few dare to go that far anymore. And because with time, you come to understand the value of what endures.

Vagelis now stands at the intersection of mastery and memory. He’s moving with intuition. Seasonality matters. The tomato is not always the same. Nor the fish. Nor we, ourselves. So we adapt, refine, reiterate—like our shirts and polos, which evolve not to impress, but to serve, to resonate with the times.

“If you oversalt, there’s no going back,” he tells me. “But if it’s not enough, you can always adjust.” That, perhaps, is the most elegant philosophy of all. One of balance. Of subtlety. Let the flavours breathe. Let the fundamentals speak. Let originality enhance, not overpower.

We aren’t chasing fashion. We are style, in the truest sense—an evolving narrative of craft and taste. A bridge straddling the boundaries of classic and contemporary. Because style, like cuisine, lives in interpretation, not absolutes. It does not move because of the fast-paced world wants us to.

Cherries are ripening. Give them a few more weeks and they’ll become lush, deep, unforgettable.

Part I our High Summer collection will be available online and in-stores on June 19 (Thursday) at 12pm GMT, along with our Part II to follow later on.

And until then, Kali orexi, meaning Bon appétit.

With heartfelt thanks to Vagelis for his presence, his generosity, and his place in our journey. Photography by Alex Natt.

Already, we dream of returning.