Doing Time in Correctional Chic

Correctional chic - Only $500

Raiford Prison - A nice runway for a fashion show

Burt in tasty chambray

Inmate Pn3031098

"Lets go get a latte"

One of my first job leads interviews - in that crap-fest economy of 1984 - was as a 'Classification's Officer' at what is now Florida State Prison but was then simply known as Raiford. I was given a tour and told about life 'under the whistle,' free car washes, hand made wallets and the luxury of life as a non-inmate living on prison grounds. The pay wasn't bad, free housing and most meals were free. I thought it would be a hell of an experience.

The prospect of this life ended when I was shown the graveyard for prisoners who died or were executed (by Old Sparky - the electric chair) and whose remains were not claimed. The graves had no names -- only the deceased's number stamped into aluminum. As I looked at the sunken plots all talk of the position; "You'll be assigning jobs when they come in and helping 'em get jobs when they get out," was lost on me. I knew I would never come back to this shit hole. So far so good.

About two years ago I first saw prison denim showing up in the Japanese men's magazines. Huge, Men's Club and even Last. I remember thinking, "Only the Japanese" but the look has moved to America. I'm not sure what critics of aspirational dress would call dressing like a prisoner circa 1945. Maybe, "Heritage Correctional" or "Aspirational Incarceration."

I know I have defended anyone's right to wear whatever the hell they want. "You can tell me I shouldn't wear it but no one can tell me I can't," was my bumper sticker slogan in defense of work wear seen here. With some hindsight I'd like to change that to, "Better you than me."

Dark and Stormies with ACL

(photos by Michael Williams - Nikon D300s)

Michael Williams from the cash inhaling blog (I mean that in a good way), A Continuous Lean, joined the Foxtrot and I for dinner and a viewing of, Jazz On A Summer's Day. Cocktail hour screamed for Dark and Stormies, which I assume - one - is the caloric equivalent of a Whopper with cheese. Which explains why I look like Jabba the Hut (or is it Pizza the Hut?). He authored a very flattering post about the evening's menu and our friendship here.

I can't wear what?

There's a whole lot going on over at Michael William's blog, "A Continuous Lean." Michael's a good kid. He's a smart kid. And if you read the comment page about his recent quote in Newsweek Magazine you'll discover he's a, "take no crap" kid. Check it out. I'll wait.

So you see... Michael has this thing for work clothes that I don't really understand. I busted my ass for 20 years so I wouldn't have to wear the clothes he loves so much. If I was allowed to "do what I want" years ago, I'd be a deputy sheriff somewhere in Florida with a wood porch attached to my double wide trailer filled with kids and a pissed off wife working part time at Denny's. I can just see my youngest shooting at the propane tank with a BB gun. Don't laugh. My mother will tell you it almost happened.

Instead, after the Army I went to college and after college, I worked at Brooks Brothers, devoured Flusser's books, cruised Tripler, Chipp and J Press in NYC. In London I sucked up Jermyn Street like it was a pint of Bitter. I peered into the windows of Savile Row tailors - - too scared to venture inside --but I was comfortable in Hackett, New and Lingwood, Harvie and Hudson and felt at home with John Carnera at George Cleverley. I saved for alligator straps with Tiffany sterling buckles and became friends with sales people at Polo on Michigan Avenue, Dunhill on Oak Street and Paul Stuart in the Hancock.

I could care less about Filson tin cloth work pants and Alden Indy boots but I'll defend the biggest Nancy Boy to wear that stuff if that's what they wanna wear. I think it looks ridiculous but who is anyone to tell anyone what to wear?

The above photos are what I'm wearing today. English and American. I think it works. Flusser may disagree. You can tell me I shouldn't wear it - - but no one will tell me I can't.

Take Ivy Arrives

Weighing in at just over a pound and measuring 9 3/4" x 7 1/4" Not what you'd call a coffee table book.

Thanks to Heavy Tweed Jacket, I learned this is the 1973 edition.

And thanks to Michael Williams of ACL and total but kind Japanese strangers, my copy of "Take Ivy" arrived over the weekend. While I was out of town. Late Sunday night I was surprised to see such a small package. I thought it would be huge for the money it was going for.

Heavy Tweed Jacket translated the page above:

Info to the RIGHT of the TAKE IVY box

Showa year 40 (1965), September 20 (published on)
Authors: Teruyoshi Hayashida, Kensuke Ishizu, Toshiyuki Kurosu, Moto Hasegawa
Publisher: Fujingaho-sha
Address: 2-9 Shinbashi Minato-ku, Tokyo
Bank Account #Tokyo40010
Printer: Toppan Insatsu Kabushikigaisha [Toppan Printing Co., Ltd.]

Info in the BOX
Price 980 Yen
Reprint
Showa 48 (1973) July 15
5077-848900-7332 (ISBN# perhaps?)

We'll focus on the images and keep the text to a minimum. Look for the first of three groupings by the end of the week.

A Trad Investment

Michael Williams of a "A Continous Lean"turns 30 today. I was thinking that my watch and perhaps some of my boxer shorts are older than he is. I bought my Sub, like so many others, while I was in the Army. It was required if you were in Special Forces. The Sub was cheap back then. I would'a sprung for the Explorer but it was on the high side. I think $50 or $75 more. Trad Dad paid $225 for his Explorer in 1967 while serving in Vietnam with 5th Special Forces Group. A few years ago he admitted to getting pissed off with his watch, taking it off his wrist and slinging it out into the middle of the New Mexico desert. So much for my inheritance.

I've owned two Subs. The first one was left in a Hardee's bathroom in Fayettville, NC after helping an Army buddy change a motorcyle chain in the restaurant's parking lot. I took it off to wash my hands and left it in the soap dish. Didn't notice until I got back to my barracks. I had this very odd feeling in my stomach just before I had the desire to kill myself. I lied to Trad Dad and told him I lost it on a night jump over St Mere Eglise Drop Zone at Ft Bragg.

A couple of days ago I was in Bergdorf Goodman and saw a Sub just like mine (model1530) and a Explorer like Dads. The Sub was $10,000 and the Explorer was $12,500 or there abouts. I know my Dad reads this blog from time to time and I can only hope he isn't feeling that stange feeling in his stomach. Jeez, you couldn't do better in stocks or real estate.

PS- The middle photo is a Sub like mine but not mine. I've added a photo of mine and am ashamed to say it's overdue for a servicing. It's had four services in the 33 years I've owned it. The book is "Handmade Shoes for Men" by Laslo Vass. I'm not a fan of what I believe to be a heavy Hungarian style but the book is mindblowing.