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On a Road: Onwentsia - 1988

July 2, 1988 @ 3:56 PM Lake Forest, IL

It was a place I didn't know. The Midwest. Chicago. The North Shore. Lake Forest. Onwentsia Road. I ran in the morning before my wedding. Red and black running shorts the color of a WW I Fokker. Cut off arms of a size too large white Lacoste. I ran toward the lake. Already warm but without humidity. Crisp, clean and bright.

Lake Forest was stuffed with giant houses and English gardens, but Buicks were parked in the driveways. A simple Midwest that loved to laugh but could barely stand to part with $5 for a pair of socks. The Mercedes and Ferrari dealership never saw the life-long residents I knew. Even Don's Foods was the playground of the new rich while common sense and coupons dictated Sunset Foods to my new in-laws.

The Northwestern Metra filled in for the second car to a city 45 minutes away. A 1BR condo at 910 North Michigan was $30,000 whike the exodus to the suburbs was in high swing. The bars near Wrigley were simple and cheap. No one cared what you did or who you were. They only cared if you were gonna buy 'em an Old Style. This picture, taken at 3:56 PM on July 2nd in 1988, was the start of it.

The Bachelor Party

(L to R) Wild East, Foosko & Sgt Nick Penis - Deer Path Inn 30 June 1988

23 years ago tonight some old friends, relatives and in-laws gathered at the Lantern in Lake Forest for my low key bachelor party. The image above is of the 'After Party' complete with Pabst Blue Ribbon. Amazing how hip we were and didn't even know it.

One of my friends asked my father that night what his experience in Vietnam was like. Dad shrugged and said there wasn't much to tell. Everyone nodded and the conversation moved
quickly to the Cubs and the merits of Old Style. The night winds down as in-laws leave but old friends wanna go all night.

Wild East and Foosko. decide to reenact Lobby East dorm life with a purchase of the cheapest beer available. Army buddy and Chicago local, SgtNick Penis comes along for the ride. Sadly, Red, White and Blue is not available so two sick packs of PBR go from the Lantern to the Deer Path Inn only four blocks and a low crawl away.

A month or so later the old man is visting D.C. and offers dinner at his favorite French restaurant in Old Town Alexandria. My bride asks Dad, in a break after escargot en croute but before steak au poivre, what it was exactly he did in Vietnam. Dad sips his Beefeater martini and tells my wife it was just like the mafia. "They'd come down to the village. Kill some locals. We'd go up the mountain and kill some of them."

While the rules of time, place and occasion are invaluable for apparel -- there is some wisdom in applying the rule to story telling. You don't wear a white dinner jacket to a bachelor party nor should fatigues be worn in French restaurants.

The Morning Suit - All Dressed Up With No Place to Go

One can hope the royal wedding brings back more than hats. My Morning Suit has been cobbled together piece by piece over many years. The Henry Poole coat was cut by Angus Cundey in 1992 and purchased second hand from the owner in 2001.

The raw silk cravat and three waistcoats, all Favourbrook, were found at an Off 5th outlet in Orlando. The trousers were purchased at Hornets. I have no idea if any of it will ever see a wedding in the states. My only hope may be Ascot.

There are rules (tomorrow) but there's room for creativity in waistcoats, shirts and ties. The first option is double cuff spread collar shirt, purple cravat and lavender waistcoat. A bit daring. I might be confused for someone who works in advertising.

The same shirt is paired with a brown lapel waistcoat and Hermes ice fishing tie. I don't get it either but it works. If asked, one can always claim ignorance of any significance. The English will assume you're being coy and, if they get drunk enough, they'll tell you what it means.

The Hermes Griffin tie is paired with a blue double cuff shirt and silver waistcoat. Very boring insurance-man, lunch at Ball Brothers, Renault company car, looking, but showing some flair - albeit mostly in the vest.

The Chanel Porpoise tie with the same blue shirt and waistcoat is my favorite for a London wedding. It's very old and chances are I won't run into it. Not that I won't run into someone on the dance floor.

I read that in the 18th Century American colonists were savagely criticized for their apparel choices when visiting London by the natives. Nothing much has changed there. Still, they may give you some credit for making the effort and for loving their traditions.

An English Wedding...

My first English wedding was out of a Richard Curtis movie almost 20 years ago in a wood named suburb south of London. Every man wore Morning Dress except for the Septics. I never felt so under dressed in my life. There is a long bridge between the English and American wedding. Americans would like to say our weddings are not as stuffy. These Americans have never been to an English wedding.

It starts out formal enough but Morning (sometimes even Frock) coats are abandoned about the time dancing starts. Champagne bottles are replaced with Beck's. Ash trays overflow and smear white table linen with Silk Cut streaks. The back of heads are wet with sweat while serious dry humping takes place on the dance floor. Still, these people never lose an innate style I believe they're born with.

Fathers show a restraint with gray Macclesfield ties and gray waistcoats that match their hair as it flies away just above the ear. The Mothers, thick with ginger cake and biscuits, are beautiful in hats, cream lace and big smiles with red lipstick.

The 'V' Trendy will break out the Favourbrook Frock coat and waistcoat. A striking contrast to the Morning Coat and, I decide, a must if I'm ever nominated for an Oscar. Most are content with an Hermes tie and a buff db waistcoat. Paddock boots take to the heaviness of a striped trouser whose pockets are big enough for a stolen champers bottle.

Around midnight I stumble out the marquee into the dark and watch massive old trees sway in a breeze. I sit down on the grass, light a cigar and listen as the strange accents I hear all have names I know.

A Cure for the Cheese Royale

"We're all red inside."



Harry might approve. "Turn your cameras on."

I Need This Today

It's cold and I thought these might make me feel better. I was right.

Trad Wedding

How often do you see the Stroller anymore? Granted, these look rented but who in their right mind is gonna buy a Stroller? A short morning coat, it was popular for day weddings some time ago. I say that because the last few weddings I've attended have been sartorial train wrecks. Tuxes at noon. Guests wearing dockers and golf shirts with sunglasses on top of their head. In reality, it is "her" day. So you have a good time anyway...and take notes.

Here, the groom was wearing a nice pair of black cap toes while the fellow on your far right wore black cowbow boots. He's a Hollywood screenwriter so go figure. The man on the far left wore a black suede-like running shoe. He's a crime fiction writer. Go figure again. The groom's father wore a beautiful pair of corrected grain paddock boots. Now, corrected grain is usually a big no-no but for this event it was perfect. According to Hardy Amies, he was the only one who nailed it.