Camouflage In Canada

Misspelled but treasured


L to R: Lance Cpl Lodge, Sp4 Tinseth (Woodland Pattern), Major Campbell

Canadian Jump Smock

British Para Smock

Night Jump

It was a beautiful evening view of Edmonton from the open doorway of a C 130. And night did not last long. As a visiting American, I was given the honor of going first and standing in the door. I stared open mouthed at Edmonton's bright white lights while red and yellow streaks cut low lines in the dawn sky. The sun was coming up at 3AM. Days were long and nights were short.

Wings were awarded later that afternoon on Buxton Drop Zone followed by a celebration known as a 'Prop Blast.' Everyone remained in uniform. The US camouflage pattern then was called Woodland. It anticipated action in Western Europe and WWW III against the Warsaw Pact. It was also dark and dull. The Canadian Jump Smock was almost bright in comaprison. A wonderfully made jacket with gravitas and substance compared to flimsy US stop-rip cotton.

Neither held a candle to the British Para Smock of L/Cpl Lodge of the 22nd SAS. It combined '70s Rhodesia, '50s Malaysia and a smattering of contemporary Italian Para all in one pattern. I understand a US Army T.M. of world camouflage patterns is the new 'Take Ivy' among NYC designers. Who knows? Maybe Tommy Hilfiger will finally disappear.

What Didn't Make Vanity Fair

Grouse

Dried Blood

Black Watch & Brooks Polo

Runway to Reality

Alligator without being an asshole

1/2 lining in fall

Airborne, eh.

Your Fall “must have” accessory?
A Famous Grouse Tie from the FG on line gift shop. I switch from gin to scotch in the fall.

Loved this pattern for fall-

Blood red, over sized gingham, shirt from David Mercer at Mercer Shirts.

What is your wardrobe staple for fall?

Black watch sport coat in wool flannel. You can wear it with any color shirt but it looks best with a pink oxford button down from Brooks Brothers.

Advice on how to go from runway to reality?
Rotate at 75 knots in a Piper. I don't know how fast you have to be going in a Cessna.

The designer with the most wearable fall collection?
I'm a sample size in shoes so I'm sucking up to Mark McNairy for his alligator Weejun. I always thought alligator shoes on men screamed asshole -- The same guy who drives a Corvette and wears a fur coat -- But the Weejun style brings the 'Alpha Hotel' factor down.

What trends from spring/summer will carry over to this season?
Half linings in suits. I'm tired of sweating in fully lined suits when heat is everywhere. The subway is boiling. My apartment is boiling. The Ramen place on 57th and 6th Ave has to be the gateway to Hell. Besides, half linings make the inside of the jacket look better.

Your favorite on-line store?
Joe Druin Airborne Kit Shop -
The only place to buy Canadian Airborne stuff. Everything from blazer buttons to blazer badges to blazers. I never knew going through Canadian Jump School would provide me with such cool stuff that I'm actually authorized to wear. If Ralph Lauren ever found out about this place...Shit, I think he just did.

Happy Canada Day, eh...

Mind the Winter - Spring Gap

Cravat of London tie from H Herzfeld

I do like blue and yellow. It hit 60 today. It'll be warming up the rest of the week as well. A good thing. Spring starts Saturday. I think. Never been one good with dates. Problem is, you walk out your door in the morning and it's not 60. It's nowhere close. Still, the thought of throwing on a coat makes me wanna throw up. I don't mind the cold but it just gets to be a drag.

Perfect day for the sweater vest.

Keeps you warm in the morning and come lunch you can take it off, throw the blazer on and head outside for that walk up Madison Ave between 59th and 67th. That's a target rich environment for the best dressed and most attractive women I've ever seen. Chicago, a city I love, never had anything close. There was a time when the Ralph Lauren Polo store had their grand opening on Michigan Ave and a bunch of us from work headed over to ogle the sales girls. Turned out they flew a bunch of girls in from NYC.

I remember one lunch hour talking to a friend from work and rounding a corner in the store when we happened on a beautiful sales girl who had her head down and was brushing her hair in front of a mirror. She snapped her head back and the hair went up and settled down on her shoulders. Did you ever see the Rita Hayworth scene in The Shawshank Redemption? It was like that. God, I felt good the whole rest of the day. I feel good just remembering it.

Canadian Airborne brass buttons

Who knew Canadian Jump School would pay off so far into the future? These really add something personal to a blazer. I keep hoping to get the, "Nice buttons..." from the girls on Madison but it'll never happen. I have an image of Jerry Lewis circa 1966 running down the street screaming, "Hey, LA-DY! Look! Look at my buttons!"

So, there you have it. Something colorful enough to imply Spring is around the corner yet warm enough without a coat. Before you know it - - Longwing's sun dresses will be everywhere and I'll be on Madison Avenue at lunch...showing off my buttons.

The Friday Belt- Single Malts & Stable Belts

The Stable Belt The Stable Belt for civilians

Stable Belt Details


Another Favorite Belt
Just a wee dram, yea?

The Laphroaig Distillery

Nice to see where my hangover was born

A big thank you to Jonty F! Whoever you are. Jonty F recently commented on a post regarding the Regimental Belt. Jonty provided a lot of detailed history and it kicked me off on some research and some memories. Certainly this belt I'm wearing echoes the military version of the Stable Belt. I just wish I could find an assortment more like this. If I were one of those Big Blouse fashion designers I'd be knocking these off for years. It's wider than a surcingle and it's adjustable. Perfect for the larger belt loops of today. And perfect for my waist as I discover how to add bacon to just about any dish.

I remember catching a glimpse of a Stable Belt worn by Sergeant Major Scully during Canadian Jump School. Located outside Edmonton, the school was segregated into French and English speaking. Scully ran the English side. He was average height but built with a thick chest that gave him a permanent lean forward. One day the head of the French side disappeared and a young French Canadian walked up to Scully and asked him something... in French. Scully took the last cigarette out of a box of Export A's, threw the empty box at the kid which bounced off his helmet and yelled, "Chevrolet Coupe! That's all the effing French I know!" Scully used another word for effing but you get the point.

Traditional clothing has always borrowed from the military. "Inspired" is a word I'm fond . It bothers me to no end when a designer steals insignia men died wearing. Why steal unit insignia when the history of the military is so full of ideas that, like the Stable Belt, a civilian version can be done with taste and respect. Hell, I think the consumer would think more of the apparel if he was clued into it's past. You build loyalty as well as a relationship. Just ask the Scots about single malts.

Single Malts have a fanatical base of supporters who take distillery tours and spend small fortunes on something they're gonna drink and waz only a couple hours later. I must admit to having a thing for Laphroaig and it's home, Islay. Haven't been there yet but I do see the attraction. To taste a place...that French word (pardon me, SGM Scully), terroir...which I can never say without feeling like an asshole...That's what Laphroaig is all about. Smokey and peaty like the sky in this You Tube video. The taste of the sea- - like raw oysters and a cold Manzanilla Sherry. Man, that's living. I always enjoyed Laphroaig with a cigar but it's getting almost impossible nowadays. Still, it's probably better that way. Come the right moment - - it'll be appreciated.

My First Playboy Magazine

My first Playboy at 12. I've been a fan of blue and yellow ever since.

I didn't understand this at all. But I liked the Morning Coat.

My scotch is Canter's.

I thought the woman in the doorway was waiting for the two in the foreground to leave so she could smell some of those colognes. Actually, it's still confusing. I'm not sure if I'd ever take a cologne break...Maybe he just needs the bottle.

You can never forget your first Playboy. This was mine. Purchased in Montreal when I was 12. We were visiting friends of my parents. Eight people crammed into a tiny townhouse if I remember correctly. I was sent on a errand to get milk or something at a Canadian 7/11. Instead of Playboy being under the counter - - this issue was proudly displayed on the magazine rack.

With more courage than I knew I had, I stepped up to the register with the milk or whatever and plunked the magazine down like I had done it a million times. The clerk picks up the Playboy, looks at me and says something in French with "Pla-boyye" ending his sentence. "Yeah, it's a Playboy," I say. "Oh, you're American. Where are you from?" I know this is all about confidence. "Virgina, we're visiting some friends." He's ringing it up and says, "Va-geeenia. Thaz a looong way." "Uh-huh." I give him a twenty and I'm out the door with Miss July. That's when I first learned there's a huge pay off in taking risk.

A block or two from the townhouse, I crammed the magazine into the back of my pants and un-tucked my shirt over it. Once inside, I deliver the milk or whatever to an adult and make a bee-line for the bathroom. There, I conceal Miss July under a big pile of towels stacked under the sink. "So far so good," I thought as I wondered if everyone would go through all the towels before I came back for my prize. I also discovered, about this time, that when I concentrated--really focused--I could do anything. Even wake myself up in the middle of the night.

Like James Bond I snap awake at 0200 hours. In a Bruce Lee-like tip toe, I dart into the bathroom and quietly collect the magazine. With hardly a thought and acting on pure instinct, I head for the garage, open our station wagon door and proceed to stuff the magazine under the front seat. The intense rush at sneaking around like this cannot be described. I don't think jumping out of a plane ever came close.

On the way home I sat next to my father while my two sisters and mother sat in the back seat. I was always told I was the navigator but my old man never listened to my directions--which were always wrong-- and still are. No, I was up front so he could reach me. I don't remember how long we had been on the road when I first saw trouble. I do know my ballooning confidence at pulling off this amazing caper disappeared when I saw the US / Canadian Border. Police were everywhere motioning cars to pull over...other cars being searched...clothes hauled out of trunks. This was not good.

I looked at my father. A man who wore a crew cut and frowned throughout my childhood. He was two years out of Vietnam. Now a major with a real career in front of him... Unless his son put the whole family in a Canadian jail for the transportation of pornography. What would you do? I fessed up fast. "We gotta pull over now." He looks at me confused, "What?" I breathe deep. "I have something in the car. We have to pull over before we get up there." From the back seat I hear my mother, "What? What did he say?" My father is slowing down at this point and he looks at me like he's gonna throw up. He's more scared than I am. You have to remember...there were a lot of drugs back in 1971. I never went near them. Not with a Green Beret for a Dad. But he didn't know that.

My mother is leaning forward in her seat, "What's he saying?" My father tells her to sit back and he shoots me a look, "What's in the car?" We're too close now. If we pull over the cops are gonna know. "I have a Playboy magazine stuffed under my seat. If they search the car we're gonna be in big trouble." I looked at him expecting full furry and I remember seeing the relief. And then he laughed. "I think we're gonna be okay," he said. I'm sitting in a pool of sweat on cheap Plymouth vinyl and I can only look down at my hands clenched tight. I rub them on my tie dyed bell bottoms and look at him. He's smiling as he steers into an inspection lane.

After we pull away - -without being searched - - he asks me quietly, "Where did you get it?" I tell him about the clerk at the Canadian 7/11. He nods. A few more miles down the road my mother is talking to my sister and my father looks at me like he never looked at me before and says, "If you ever want one..you let me know." When we got home I was convinced I'd make a great spy (sans the confession back there at the border) and asked my father how I might go about it. "The only country you'd be good at spying on is this one," he snorted and went back to reading Evergreen or the LA Free Press. For a career Army officer, my father was a bit out of the box. Brilliant, but out of the box.

Playboy was everything to me. Back then, I could spot one in a pile of magazines at a neighbor's house from 50 paces save for 'Southern Living' magazine that would occasionally throw me with its similar binding. I look back and realize Playboy is a lot like watching an episode of Rat Patrol. Much of it hokey and cheesy. But sometimes you just wanna watch 'em ride around the desert in jeeps.

Southwick Ad from 1985

From M Magazine. I was always taken with Southwick's advertising. If anyone knows who the photographer was please clue me in. Isn't this guy great? Look at that nose. Such a craggy face with the aroma of Guiness and Single Malt wafting from his pores. The Meerschaum pipe just over the knee with that olive wide wale cord looks right at home.

This was an ad for "Terrier Cloth." That looks like an Irish Terrier. Whoever did this ad must have had a great time. It's so evocative and mood setting. It may be hard to tell on the post but that's a Blackwatch Plaid Sport Jacket. For years, I thought it was a Blue Blazer. It's so dark it looks solid. The tie and the shirt and the pocket square? Beautiful pairing. The pocket square is normal, low key and not foppish at all. The cuffs of the shirt lead me to believe it's Brooks Brothers as does that perfect roll. Who knows. I've seen the tie before but can't place it. Maybe Herzfeld. Maybe Polo.

Lastly, the blazer patch. This one has two crossed rifles with any Latin tactfully hidden from the camera. I have a blazer patch from the Canadian Airborne. I went to Jump School in Edmonton and was awarded Canadian Jump Wings as part of a Soldier Exchange program. I've worn it only once. On a Double Breasted Blazer with an ascot. I felt like an asshole. Looked like an asshole. Was an asshole. Never wore the blazer patch again. Maybe when I'm this man's age. I'll tell you one thing. When I do go grey... I'm growing that exact moustache.