It is late on Wednesday afternoon, the day before the media opening of the exhibition called Hello, My Name Is Paul Smith, and I'm upstairs in the Design Museum in a largeish box with the designer named Paul Smith (67).
Charming the socks on the fashion-forward media
It is Thursday morning in the Design Museum's auditorium on the banks of the Thames River, and the international press conference is packed with beautiful people who wouldn't look out of place on a Paul Smith catwalk.
They are journalists from around the globe who have come to cover the media opening of the exhibition called "Hello, My Name Is Paul Smith". They push trendiness into the red, exude cool in ALL CAPS.
But minutes into his short address, designer Paul Smith, the man of the moment, has melted their hearts with his wicked humour and genuine sincerity.
"It comes from here, it comes from the heart," he says, and taps his chest. You sense that the potentially tough crowd may well be believing him. "The key to my life is the love of life."
Then it's question time.
"If you ask a question, I'll give you a pair of socks," he says with a naughty smile. And who can resist the famous, colourful Paul Smith socks, or their equally colourful designer?
The cool crowd is eating out of his hand by now, shouting questions. He answers with wit and attentiveness.
"Can I throw the socks?" he asks a gorgeous Russian journalist.
Downstairs, in the vast exhibition space, he is equally generous with his time and the care he takes to answer questions, as the cameras pop away.
He guides us from space to space: the recreation of his minute first shop set up in 1970 in his hometown of Nottingham; the replica of the Paris hotel room back in 1976 where only one buyer came to look at his first collection; his cluttered office; the studio; a focus on collaborations with Mini, Leica cameras, Evian water and David Bowie; a "tiny, tiny selection" of Paul Smith's massive archive of clothes; a spectacular Sony-produced ultra-HD video titled A Day in the Life of a Fashion Show; and a video installation attempting to take you "Inside Paul's Head".
"It's about looking and seeing. Many people are looking, but aren't seeing," Smith says.
Then, there is a large room stacked with a "tiny fraction" of Smith's presents, art and photographic collection, "from a six-year-old fan who has written, to a Bruce Webber photograph".
Smith is generally on the receiving side of unprecedented generosity. Unlike most designers, he doesn't only have customers, he has multigenerational fans. Many show their adoration with completely quirky presents. He writes back to everyone to thank them personally.
"There's 11-year-old Margot from Belgium who wrote, ‘I don't like fashion, but I like you', and she's never met me. She sent me a delightful nativity for Christmas made from peanuts.
"Then, the large carton with five spinning tops from Italy, with just a note saying, ‘I know Paul Smith likes things'."
Smith looks as if though he still, after all these years, cannot believe his luck. "It's unbelievable. It's humbling. And every day …"
Hans Ulrich Obrist, the Serpentine Gallery' s co-director, told the Financial Times, "People identify with him, they feel connected to him through wearing his clothes, but also through encountering his shops. That's why they send him things. He has always had a unique dialogue with his customers."
In my interview with him last Wednesday, I gave Smith my theory about why fans shower him with presents. "It is the way you accept them," I said.
Smith nodded slowly. "That's lovely, thanks. Thank you."
The exhibition is on until March 9 2014. Charles Leonard's flight to London was sponsored by British Airways