A woolly jumper beneath has a picture of the planet Saturn on it. As it is, cover blown, he removes the parka. If Styles could only do something about his appearance from the neck up (elfin brow, wide Joker smile, a face that’s recognisable across multiple continents) you sense he could drink in pubs like this anonymously enough. He’s tall, around the 6ft mark, and carries himself with a slight stoop. “That’s frickin’ Harry frickin’ Styles,” whispers a young man at the bar, “in this pub.” The pop star is asked what he wants to drink and in a voice already inclined to undertones, quietly orders a cup of tea.Ī former teen star who is now 25, a happier and rockier solo artist since his boyband One Direction split a few years ago, Styles has hidden himself inside a large, swamp-green parka. Instead, the two-dozen punters turn hushed and intent, as if a unicorn has just trotted in off the street, and nobody wants to scare it off. If there was an old vinyl record player in the place it would scratch quiet.
H ere he comes, one of the planet’s most conspicuous young men, stepping out of the London drizzle and into a dusty suburban pub.
