Back To Normal

So, after instigating some lively discussion over the past few days, I've decided to take this blog back in its normal direction tonight. And nothing says "back to normal" like some "zesty" (Mrs. G's word, not mine) wool tartan slacks:
Remeber this pair? I bought them when the weather was warm, for $3.99, and have been absolutely dying to wear them. Some of you laughed, and said I was crazy...and you were right. But the minute I saw them, I envisioned them with a flannel blazer and a white shirt. I guess clothing like this puts holiday season in top gear.

When I got this pair, they were too long, and bell-bottoms. I find a lot of these pants from the 70's made of the nicest wool, but with awful flares. Remember, a good tailor can taper them back to normal. Also, bell bottoms tend to have a very trim fit through the thigh, so when tapered the cut becomes quite current, for not that much scratch. Red socks and tassel loafers finish the look. The only things missing are the fireplace and the Scotch.

And for good measure, an un-matching Tartan cap. I'm really digging the whole multiple Tartan thing lately.

Sheesh, I really have taken the whole "go to Hell" pants thing off the deep end this year...I need help...

p.s. read this.

Pop Up Flea: Voice of Dissent, part II

Just for laughs:
Wool shirt by Chippewa, $5.49, down vest by Lands End, $12.50, wool/shearling hunting hat by Woolrich, $3.99, jeans by Levi's, $30 (at Sear's, where they also sell tools), L.L.Bean "Original Maine Hunting Shoes", $12.99, rugged no-name belt, $1.99, Lands End canvas tote...I forget, it's old...

Let me begin by saying how absolutely overwhelmed I am by the response to the last post. Guess I was just sayin' what you all were thinkin'. 50 comments...a new AAW record!

My special thanks are extended to "Joe", for disagreeing with all the disagree-ers. That's what discussion is all about. To date, the only comments I have rejected were the inevitable spam. Note that our Mr. Williams, in his own self-congratulatory post on the Pop Up Flea, published only six comments, one of them his own, in which he basically states that any comment that disagrees with his aesthetic and/or opinion will not be considered for publication. "Pat me on the back or get out".He did not, however, hesitate to list all the press his fiasco received, sans yours truly, or any other writer/blogger/journalist who dared call him out. Such an attitude is neither democratic, American, or professional, in any sort of journalistic sense.

And people wonder why Boston has always hated New York. It's got very little to do with Babe Ruth and Derek Jeter in the long run.

Let us speak no more of it. I don't want my blog to become the argumentative, negative "bitch-fest" that some others have fallen prey to.

p.s. ACL is now officially off the blog-roll. He's as bad as ASW, as far as I can tell...maybe worse.

p.p.s I think a ban on the terms "Heritage Americana" and "Well Curated" is in order...at least temporarily.

The Pop Up Flea: Voice of Dissent

You my be wondering, what with all the hype I threw at my trip to New York over this last weekend, it took me until late Monday evening to post my thoughts and reactions of the second Pop Up Flea, brainchild of Michael Williams of A Continuous Lean fame, and friends. The answer is simple: I didn't want to come off sounding like some provincial New York hating Bostonian, so I decided to sleep on it, and gather my thoughts, the better to choose my words wisely. This post may contain a fair bit of vitriol, nonetheless.

The Internet is already a-twitter with rhapsodic ravings on the matter, and there are, no doubt, more still to come. So in the interest of democracy, I will speak in the voice of dissent: Pop Up Flea just wasn't "all that" ( as the kids were saying when I was still a kid). I didn't snap a single photo, because, frankly, we've seen everything they had on offer over and over ad nauseam for at least a year now. You know the scene by now: overpriced boutique-issue "heritage Americana"...read, replications of poor peoples clothes at rich peoples prices.

I get it, but I don't. Sure, there's beauty to be found in a well made piece of hard wearing, rugged clothing, but something about "designers" trying to sell me a wool flannel shirt for hundreds of dollars in a "trim cut" just rubs me the wrong way. How can you call this "design"? These things have existed for a century. Perfect replication at a high ticket is not design...its a marketing and p.r. game....which should come as no surprise, since the vast majority of the "too cool for school" hipster NYC blog clique has clearly been acting as a p.r. firm for the brands that produce this stuff since at least mid-Summer.

Every table at the thing had the same "look", which generally consisted of:

-gourmet work boots

-gourmet wool flannel

-gourmet raw denim jeans

-gourmet "tool bags" (?) (My friend Pasquale, a stylish gent and carpenter by trade, was particularly infuriated by a display of a natural canvas bag with leather fittings full of hammers, a tape measure, nails, etc...as though any of these high rise office kids would actually carry tools in the thing, let alone build anything with them.)

-gourmet frontier leather goods.....if I want gourmet leather, it's Gucci all the way, or something.

-gourmet old fashioned pencils (seriously ?)

Everything came in gingham check...Gitman Brothers was selling gourmet oxfords for $185, but they came sized S,M, L. For that kind of scratch, can I please have a neck size and sleeve length (!)

We were there for about a half an hour, before we had figured out what was up and left in mild disgust. Not for nothing, but where I come from, this ain't what we calla "Flea Market". Maybe I don't "get it". Cripes, J. Crew had a table...

My other old buddy, who lives in Brooklyn, made an especially good point. To para-phrase: "this is just the new Fall line of a bunch of places within a three block radius of here...at full retail. Whats the point?"

Indeed.

But, I had a great time visiting some very old and dear friends. I ate well, bought some killing jams at Bleecker Street Records,(look for an installment of "the jams"coming soon), and drank a bunch. Don't take me for all sour grapes, because I really had a great time. The only bump in the road was the 1/2 hour we wasted at Pop Up Flea.

The Great and Powerful Voice of Dissent Has Spoken.

Travel Kit

The New York over night travel kit:

1. -Harris Tweed jacket
2. -Army issue khakis
3. -2 university striped shirts, 1 blue. 1 lavender
4. -2 repp ties
5. -2 pair argyle socks
6. -Coach belt
7. -dirty white bucks (because white bucks and tweed will be all over NYC next Fall...wait and see)
8. -Black Watch cap

and for warmth, should the evenings turn chilly

1. -Navy merino wool Brooks Brothers cardigan
2. -charcoal grey Brooks Brothers scarf

+attendant toiletries, underwear, photographic eqipment and reading material for the ride.

Total cost of the entire kit, sans camera, aprroximately $50

An Affordable Business Card

It occurred to me this morning that business cards might be a handy thing to have in my pocket this weekend for my trip to the Pop Up Flea. I'm sure we'll see some cool stuff, but to some degree I expect it to be a hipster/designer/fashion/menswear/blogger networking party, so a little of the old shameless self promotion couldn't hurt, right?

But I only thought of it this morning, so what to do? Sure, I could just use some business card making software and get some of those perforated card stock sheets for the printer, but that just isn't my style. I like to do things in the most obsolete and time consuming way I can find. So,

I went to the stationary store and picked up a couple dozen of the oak-tag tickets, complete with strings attached, the ran them one by one through my Dad's old Smith Corona 'Super Sterling' manual typewriter.

Yes, this thing actually still had ink on it's ribbon. Remember the smell of a typewriter? I didn't, until I opened the case. It was comforting. Before I got working, The Boy had a grand time banging things out on this quaint machine, as I explained to him that nearly all of the people he meets his age will likely never have seen a typewriter, let alone used one. My Dad wrote all of his college papers on this machine. Hell, I even remember doing a book report or two on it in the sixth grade. How can I get rid of such a thing? Besides, the uneven look of typewritten text, some letters faint, some heavy, some dropped below the line, is a particular something impossible to reproduce with a computer. If you run your finger along the type, you can feel the impression of the letters made by the hammers.

Dig especially the fraction key...seriously. What could say "An Affordable Wardrobe" better than hand typed oak-tag business cards? I almost feel compelled to drop some off at Thom Browne, as long as I'm in the city.

With that, I bid you all farewell until my return on Sunday with reports of the Pop Up Flea. If you're in New York, perhaps we'll run into each other.

Cheap Luxury

So, the past few days, if my last post was any indicator, I've been embracing my more fashion conscious side. That's why I don't like to label my sartorial sensibilities...because the instant you step outside the lines, folks get all up in arms.

Today was an exercise in cheap luxury: a bunch of cheap gear brought up by a few luxury accessories...which were also cheap, score one for the good guys.
A Burberry scarf, 50% wool, 50% cashmere(heisted from Mrs. G., $1.99), goes well with a Lands End down vest, $12.50 at end of season sale last year, military issue khakis, $5.49, and a vintage wool varsity sweater.
Completed by a grey herringbone driving cap I bought eight years ago.

Indoors, the luxury carries through in the tie by Mr. Sid, $0.99, coupled with a uni stripe oxford by Ralph, button down collar pinned in a fit of hopeless affectation. I know, its an egregious affront to a million things, a shameless aping of a trick found on Polo mannequins and in Polo ads...but our boy Fred Astaire was known to be doing it at least 30 years before Ralph launched Polo, and that's good enough for me. I pull this trick about three times a year these days...besides, admit it, this foolish detail makes the outfit, doesn't it?

If I seem to be flexing my less than ripped "fashionisto" muscles today, it's because I can't help it. Old buddy Pasquale and I are traveling to New York this weekend, to visit some ex-patriot Bostonian friends, eat, drink, and attend the Pop Up Flea on Saturday. I'll be traveling in the clothes on my back, plus an extra large tote bag containing a clean shirt, tie, socks, underwear and shaving kit. I'll be honest with you, the prospect of running into Michael Williams, Mr. Mort, the Sart and even Tin Tin in the same place scares me to death, and already has me on my toes. I've been thinking the matter over for weeks.

Cripes, I might as well be a teen-age girl...yikes!

Go With Your Gut

This is the first, possibly only, "rule" in dressing with style, as far as I'm concerned. Know what suits you, know the conventions of whichever general "look" you decide upon, but more importantly, develop your taste and follow your instincts. To wit:
I found this shirt recently. A 100% wool pop-over half zip in red buffalo plaid, made in the USA by Chippewa, probably in the 70's:

Now, I know that every hipster in Manhattan will go nuts for this shirt, not to mention the Japanese. The very fact that blue collar, hard wearing clothing is such a "thing" with fashion set of late actually makes me not want to like this piece. As my old friend Pasquale recently said "I can wear my Bean boots and hunting jacket and not go hunting with any New York hipster."

I'm a city guy, and I will likely never find myself cutting firewood on a cold day.

I'm (more than) a bit of a fop. For me, it's more about being overdressed....jackets, pocket squares, ties when they aren't required, a million pairs of impractical shoes and so forth.

But...

This shirt is the absolute jams. I saw it, it called my name, and now it's mine. Will I wear it with the full kit of L.L.Bean accesories? Probably not. Will I wait until some weird outfit presents itself to me that absolutely requires this shirt? You bet!

It doesn't "go" withe the rest of my wardrobe. It doesn't "go" with my lifestyle. It also doesn't matter. Because I like it, and I plan to wear it with all the confidence and aplomb I can muster.

So I go with my gut, I buy the damn lumberjack shirt, and I'll figure out how to wear it when the time is right. That's how I like to think about style. Sometimes, you gotta throw a curve ball...keep 'em guessing.