Save the Fashion District

New York Elegant Fabrics

Hertling - Made in NYC

Garment District?

I do have a thing about "Made in the USA." I'm not crazy about Thom Browne's fashion sense but his quality is beyond question . I've been told my Thom Browne shirt was not only made in the USA but made in NYC. There's been a push to have labels reflect New York origins. It can't come fast enough.

The HBO film, Schmatta, Yiddish for rags, airs tomorrow night and reports that today 5% of American clothing is made in the United States. In 1965, 95% of American clothing was made in the US. The motivation for this statistic is greed. A 100% mark up, once thought outrageous by Leon L. Bean, who kept the lid on his profit at 37 1/2% -- is now chump change. A shirt purchased at retail for $60 cost $1 or less to manufacture in Macao, Hong Kong, China or Honduras. Look, I'm not naive. I get over head and operating costs. Hell, I even understand EBITDA. But these numbers are obscene...not to mention those profiting from them.

One vulture begets another - - The real estate owners in the Garment District want the rent protected fashion tenant o -u -t. So does the mayor. You know, that guy Bloomberg who wants to protect city jobs? True to a politician's nature - - he's worked out a compromise. I learned in Chicago that political 'compromise' means, "Bend Over Here It Comes Again" or BOHICA which is a phrase I learned in the Army. Big institutions have always contributed colorful phrases to my vocabulary.

So, Mayor Bloomberg's compromise is to give the Garment District 280,000 square feet of consolidated warehouse space...for 250 apparel factories. Not a lot of room to sew much less grow. In the mean time, the real estate owners in that nine block area defined as 34th to 40th streets between Broadway and 9th Avenue, will be free to lock and load with as many Starbucks, Red Lobsters, CVS drug stores and Walgreen's as they like, all while madly humping the very industry that helps to make this city the fashion center it is. It won't be long before living in NYC will be no different than living in Des Moines. Except Des Moines will have a lot more diversity.

Many in the industry see this consolidation as laying the corpse in the coffin. They believe it won't take long before the lid on that coffin is nailed shut and the garment industry in NYC is buried. Designer, Nanette Lepore has called for some big names in the industry to take a stand. So far, Ralph Lauren has ignored her calls along with the other usual suspects. The mayor has refused her request for sit time for over a year. I see the guy on the subway all the time. He's hard to miss with the 12 man security entourage. Can't he meet Nanette on the Lex line for five lousy minutes?

There will be a rally this Wednesday the 21st at 39th St and 7th Avenue to save the Fashion District. No one seems to know when it starts and I can't find a time anywhere. I guess that's what happens with creative types. You can bet your trim and buttons I'll be there. I'm not in the business but 10 years ago I had a client who was a shirt manufacturer in North Carolina and another client who manufactured children's clothing in Georgia. They're gone now and I wonder how many of their service providers like me went with them.

You may not be able to make the rally but you can always shop for a Made in the USA label. You might even save your own job. As they say in the Schmatta trade, "It couldn't hurt."

Friday Belt - A Suspended Norteamericano

Playboy's New Host & Bar Book 1971

Norteamericano Braces

Norteamericano Cocktail

I have an old Bar Book of cocktail recipes that is either gonna break me or bury me. I mean really...who needs 10 bottles of bitters. But when a recipe calls for simple syrup... I move on. I don't care how simple it is - - I'm not cooking sugar. I suppose that doesn't make me a good barman.

What I am getting a feel for are the simple concoctions I've never heard of. Take the 'Norteamericano.' The recipe is up there. Tequila and Manzanilla Sherry stirred (I haven't tried shaking it yet) and served in a Martini glass with an olive. Now, I do have a favorite olive but for this drink I recommend a big green olive with the stem still attached. We've covered Manzanilla before but I've never mixed it. Sure as hell not with Tequila - - I'm a fan.

There's a 'dryness' best compared to gin but with a rounded depth - - not nearly as sharp but with a very long finish. Probably the Manzanilla doing it's job. The measurements up there will give you a small puddle in today's oversized Martini glass but that's okay. Keep it small because you don't want this drink getting warm on you.

Old Bar Books and Braces. I couldn't kick my ass outta 1986 if I tried. I still wear them. I heard someone opine that a man should match his shoe color to the leather tabs of his braces. The tabs on these braces are grey. I always wondered where a man could find grey shoes ... other than Philadelphia. Never believe people who tell you what to wear. Including me. These are Trafalgar braces. Purchased at Paul Stuart. I've mentioned before Paul Stuart cuts the Trafalgar tag off the braces they sell. I'm surprised Trafalgar lets them do it.

I still love them. Almost like wearing art. And best kept under the jacket. Nothing worse than a man showing off his braces. Norteamericano or not. The president of the local PBS station here in NYC shows off his braces ala Larry King. Never ask me to contribute money if you're wearing braces without a suit jacket. It sends a very bad message. But if I'm on my third Norteamericano -- it really doesn't matter.

My Sexy Hostess - Fanny Green

The Challenge

The Robert's Radio


The Sexy Hostess

I was usually cut from any team sport I tried out for in school. I still don't know if I'm over it. So, it was really depressing when a story I wrote for The Blushing Hostess was cut. She had asked for something about, "a sexy hostess." The other boys wrote stories and they all made the cut. I guess I can see why my story didn't make it. It's a tad earthy. With apologies for the length. This was, after all, not supposed to be here:

Years ago I discovered, what I thought, was the Paris - London difference. Leaving Paris and bound for London on a train, I was thinking how elegant Parisians are. Their appearance on the street is nothing short of perfection. It's a style I've tried to copy and mannerisms I knew not to imitate. Mulling over these thoughts, I looked out my train window and was surprised to see elegant apartment buildings with their balconies piled high in...garbage. Old refrigerators, cardboard boxes and junk stuffed everywhere. Building after building. It seemed Parisians were using their balconies as large trash cans. Does the typical Parisian put more effort into their appearance than in the appearance of their home?

The train exited the tunnel and I noticed the English homes and gardens were perfect in every way. Yet, in the city of London I was amazed to see streets filled with dowdy dress, cheap men's suits, women's shoes designed by Nazi Gestapo Lesbians and a personal unkemptness. Did the English put forth efforts in their home's appearance at the expense of their dress?

Understanding this is all a huge generalization - - I'll move on.

She was English on her father's side. French on her mothers. She met me at the door of the home she shared with her husband in South Kensington. A beautiful head of blonde hair contrasted against black leather jeans, suede paddock boots and an Hermes looking silk blouse. She brought me to the living room where cigarette smoke hung heavy over the dinner guests. A BBC news reader in her revealing tube top, a classic car dealer with a shop in a London mews, the wife of a London film director and a fella in the shipping business with a wife who said she was related to Pocahontas. Music came from a wood and green leather Roberts radio.

Conversation was erudite and sophisticated. Two drinks on an empty stomach and these people were my new best friends. An elegant dinner table with two silver candelabra was outside on a small flag stone terrace. Candle light and a white Burgundy made all of us beautiful. I remember sitting next to 'BBC' and having a chilled white port after dinner. Later there was a drinking game of 'Kermit' and I was losing badly while the Robert's Radio played Symphonie Fantistique from under some box wood.

I looked across the table at the hostess. She was laughing at something Pocahontas had said and reached over to a silver box lined in cedar where she pulled out a Silk Cut and after the elegant ping from a Cartier lighter... she exhaled the most beautiful slip of thin blue smoke. And it hit me like a lorry. I was looking at Fiona. You know? Kristen Scott Thomas in Four Weddings and a Funeral. The profile. The mannerisms. The way she smoked. It was all Fiona.

BBC interrupted my staring and asked me about an American actress. I mentioned the actress had a rather large - - I didn't say ass, or butt, or derriere but said...fanny. The conversation stopped. BBC gave a, 'You poor dear' smile and sat back in her chair. Fiona was laughing and she said, "Tintin, I'm afraid 'fanny' here means something very different than what it means in the states." She put her cigarette out. "You see, while a fanny is something you sit on in America...here...it's the ladies..." and she proceeded to explain it was a ladies 'hoohah.'

Some of life's earlier mysteries now made sense. Marianne Faithful's song, Why'd Ya Do It, "She had cobwebs up her fanny and I believe in giving to the poor" made sense. Garbage's, Shirley Manson's, "I bought a new guitar. It's the same color as my fanny." made sense. A whole new world opened. And then, at the urging of the dinner guests, Fiona told me the Fanny Green joke. And now that you know - - I'll tell it to you.

Somewhere in a small village - - a man enters a confessional and says to the Irish priest, "Father, it's been one month since my last confession and I've had sex withFanny Green every week for the last month." The priest tells the him, "You're forgiven my son. Now go out and say three 'Hail Mary's'."

Soon, another man enters the confessional. "Father, it's been two months since my last confession and I've had sex with Fannie Green twice a week for the last two months." This time the priest asks, "Who is this... Fanny Green?" "A new woman in the village," the man replies. "She just moved here. The most beautiful red head you've ever seen. In fact, she's coming to church this Sunday." "Very well," says the priest. "Go and say ten 'Hail Mary's'."

That Sunday the priest is standing at the head of the church next to an alter boy when a beautiful woman enters. A red head dressed from head to toe in green-- Green blouse, green mini skirt, green stockings, green patent leather shoes. She slowly sashays up the aisle and sits in the first pew in front of the alter boy and priest. She looks at the priest and spreads her legs. The priest turns to the altar boy and asks, "My God. Is that Fanny Green?""No Father," the alter boy replies. "I think it's just the reflection off her shoes."

I wonder if the French get that joke? I went to Harrods the next day and bought this Robert's radio in wood and green leather. 19 years later it reminds me of that night on a London terrace when Fiona told me about Fanny Green and everything in my world shifted an inch.

The Most Fun You Can Have With Your Smoking Jacket On

I've smoked everything. Lucky and Camel cigarettes. 1Q pipe tobacco by Lane. The Cuban Punch Punch and the 1926 Padron. No more. The consumption of tobacco came to a screeching halt when the Doc found something on the lip. All is well but for a few months there was a great deal of reflection on the leaf and nothing has ever had the effect on me like a doctor saying, "...it may be cancerous." It wasn't but it was enough to quit. All of it.

So in smoking's place -- I've consumed myself with something else to do in a smoking jacket. Shaving. So far I've tried razor blades made by Astra, Feather, Shark, 7A.M., Sharp, Merkur and Derby. They're cheap. No more than $2 for five and they come in the most amazing and colorful packaging. Just like European cigarettes.

I was happy to use my Santa Maria shaving cream in a can ($25) and even happier to buy it from Phoebe Cates at Blue Tree. Her shop's web site is here and be sure to watch the film clip on the home page. Funny stuff with Kevin Kline. I had been to the shop a couple of times without a Phoebe sighting. My luck, the one time she was there I had Kim Chi for lunch.

While Santa Maria is good stuff and lasts for donkey years...I swear I get a year out of a can...it doesn't come close to lather spread on with a badger brush. The luxury of this is hard to describe. Let me try. While I was in the Army, I spent a week in the jungles of Panama without a shower save getting rained on almost every day. I had an itching jungle 'crud' everywhere and I wanted two things. A woman with very long finger nails to scratch my feet and a hot shower. Back at Ft Sherman, I did get a hot shower and I'll never forget that feeling of being reborn as hot water washed off seven days of jungle funk. Slathering warm lather on your face with a badger brush comes very close to that -- without having to endure the jungle part.

I strongly advise against slapping cologne on after shaving. The slow and careful shave with a heavy safety razor is a radical difference from the plastic Quarto razor that vibrates and the blue - green gel that smells like a J Crew store in an outlet mall (what is that smell?). I like to use what's known as skin food. Trumper's makes a nice lime and coral skin food I've tried but I really like the glass bottle D.R. Harris comes in. It's also cheaper.

After skin food comes cologne. I want to explain how I feel about men who smell like a perfume counter on the street. It's not attractive and I associate it with men who wear lots of Gucci, a black t shirt with a closed vent sport coat and affect an Italian accent even though they're from Ft Wayne, Indiana. I'm not saying you can't. I'm saying you shouldn't. For me, cologne that wears off quickly is A-Okay in my book. The scent is just for me. Perhaps the last bit of pleasure I treat myself to before going out into the world of pissed off clients, homicidal bus drivers and odors wafting through the 59th Street subway station. Odors so bad --I don't even want to know where they come from.

By the way, Herzfeld cognoscenti may be smiling at the label with the old 509 Madison Avenue address. That's where the shop opened in 1949. It moved to 507 Madison in 1984 and then to 118 E 57th in 2005. Great history, a wonderful staff and a beautiful tailor's ruler they refuse to sell me.

The Friday Belt - Sir Rose Single

Castello di Ama Rosato & J Press

That rather plain Jane belt up there was purchased at J Press almost 10 years ago. I thought it was perfect for khakis. I've probably worn it twice in the last five years because of the word, 'contrast.' A tan and navy surcingle almost disappears on a pair of khakis. Rather, it should be worn with a navy or olive chino. Matchey - match, for me, is the hallmark of boring. I saw ex mayor of San Francisco, Willie Brown on television recently and while I was amazed he was wearing a tie that matchey -matched his pocket square - - Brown's reputation of a sophisticated dandy is legend - - I was even more amazed he was defending a man who raped a 13 year old girl. There's contrast for you.

I suppose Rose' should be put away with the seersucker and white bucks but I can't just yet. There's been a week of perfect Indian Summer days here in New York and as I share a bottle of Castello di Ama with the Foxtrot on the roof deck ... the chatter of TV news readers screaming NYC was, is and always will be the target of terrorists disappears as a third glass is poured and I look out at the Hudson. Most Rose' is pretty weak but well chilled it can hit the spot on a hot Summer day. This Rose' is big. Almost like a big Italian red from Umbria. It's $14.95 at Sherry Lehmann, where they've never given me anything-- free or discounted-- but where they'll happily take back a bad bottle for a refund or exchange.

So, I don't wear that belt anymore but I can't stop drinking a wine meant for Summer. I'm living in a city that has cross hairs on it but I'd rather ponder David Letterman's future. And I just can't understand - - for the life of me -- what Willie Brown is talking about. But I do have three more bottles of Rosato. Maybe they'll help me make some sense of it all.

University Stripe - Two Buck Luck

The top two images are of a shirt I found in a Florida thrift store a couple of weeks after seeing Mr. Davis. It was $2. I found the RN number on the tag (31104) and entered it into a data bank that tracks apparel manufactures located here. It came back as a Belk product. It's not exactly what I had in mind... but what do want for two bucks?

Oddly enough, the third picture is also a University Stripe Oxford seen in a Brooks Brothers window on West Broadway. Better seen here, it's an imported, no iron, S,M,L,XL sized oxford for $79.50. By the way, that blue sheep looks cheap. Had I gone with Tom? A Made to Measure in the Heritage 100% cotton (ironing required) would have run me $130.

I still like the idea of a panel stripe shirt. And I like the idea of ordering it from Mr. Davis. That tells me something I think retailers overlook. The importance of a domestic made product with historical provenance sold by a sophisticated professional in an appropriate setting. Is that so hard?

Wise Words from Carrie Fisher...

Carrie and I shared a typist, Miss E, back in the 90's. Miss E was referred to me by a friend who was friends with Ms Fisher. I never got to meet Ms Fisher but Miss E took me to the cleaners for a little over $900 for typing a screenplay. One of my late lessons in life. Learn to type.

Brooks Brothers University Stripe - Past & Present

The Golden Fleece - An Employee Newsletter

On far right - Mr. Tom Davis circa 1984

The 'Golden Fleece' was a newsletter for Brooks Brothers employees and I remember it fondly. A lot more fondly than my old store manager. Flipping through a copy, I was surprised to see a photograph of Tom Davis back in '84. If they ever finished that training video -- I never saw it as an employee... but that figures knowing my manager. Click on the image to read the story.

I've mentioned before how I think Mr. Davis is the real deal. While you can knock what Brooks is doing nowadays - -it's hard to find fault with the man behind the Made to Measure shirt counter. I stopped by earlier in the summer with an idea for a shirt of my own design. I wanted to take the idea of a solid panel 'Fun' shirt to University Stripe panels using yellow, blue, green and maroon oxford cloth. And, I was thinking of putting an embroidered Golden Fleece on the bottom front tail of the shirt. That little bit of branding known only to me. Man, I thought I was channeling Michael Bastian.

Tom smiled and pulled out a book of fabric swatches. He put on his reading glasses and pointed to a page where there was a blue and a maroon university stripe. He turned the book to me, took off his glasses and said, "That's what I thought. We only have these two stripes." "That's it? No yellow or green?" I asked. Tom shook his head. Now, I know I can get this shirt at any number of custom shirt makers here in NYC or my old shirt maker in Chicago, Riddle McIntyre...but there was something important to me about having Mr Davis handle this order.

Tom closed the book and we talked about the old Brooks. How, when I was an employee, they had five or six colors of university stripe. We talked about the old collars, the new Satanic no-irons and the erudite character of wrinkled cotton. Mr. Davis works on appointments and I noticed a distinguished man with his wife who was waiting for me to un-ass my chair. I shook Tom's hand, turned and walked to the elevator. Not so much broken hearted - - these are just shirts after all - -but let down - - because something so easy to do 20 years ago -- has vanished.

National Park Service - Parting Shots

Ellis Island New Immigration Building

Ellis Island The Liberty II Work Boat from New Immigration Building

Ellis Island My Mouton on top of New Immigration

Ellis Island The Great Hall

Most of these were taken using my Olympus OM-1 with Kodachrome. Although, I was known to bum a Canon F-1 every now and then. My parting shots to a week of Park Service memories.

The American Diary

The American Diary - Leave it to the Canadians

Left to right: Jack S. Smith, Bernard K. Johnpoll and E.G. Marshall

The American Diary was a documentary produced by Jack S. Smith and Bernard Johnpoll. Hosted by E.G. Marshall, I worked on the series as assistant to Jack while a junior in college. Every time I see a Ken Burns documentary --I wonder-- why the 'Diary' didn't make it. Aired on large independent channels through the mid to late 80's it suddenly disappeared.

Covering the history of the United States through celluloid film, the series started with one of the earliest films,' The Kiss' by Thomas Edison. We were to bring it up to the current day but there was a dispute between the authors and the production company. Only 12 episodes were completed and I gave up my dream of accepting the, "Best Assistant to the Producer" award at the Emmy's.

Still, I had a television credit, made some money, picked up three college credits and was in complete awe of the historical footage. My job was to help select footage and time it with a stop watch while Jack wrote the narration on a IBM selectric. Jack had retired as news producer of the 'Today' Show and even then he thought it, "show-boat journalism." God knows what he would think of it today.

I have a cassette of Jack from a phone conversation we had just after I graduated. The deep rumble of his voice takes me back to the dinners in his home, his stories of the A.P. in London during WW II and the talks we had while working on the series. Of my mentors -- Jack was my favorite.

With dreams of writing for television long gone - a friend called me at work years later to tell me Jack had passed away. I turned my chair to look out the office window and saw Jack's face. A dead ringer for Alec Guiness in Smiley's People. His stories came back . So did the dinners and the history of the American Diary. I thought of the bridges he let me write. A sentence or two to wind it up before a commercial break. The opening sentence after the break. I still remember each and every one.

My VHS tapes were lost years ago but I recently found the series streaming on the Internet. It's not Ken Burns. But the writing is clean, the footage still amazing and the memories as clear as ever. I've also noticed we didn't use any hawk screams. Click here for a clip and let me know if you want patch pockets.

Friday Belt - The Belt That Made The Park Service Famous

Apologies for the images but my belt is long gone

It was one thing to work summers in a small town during college as a GS-5. With cheap park housing and a uniform allowance -- I made enough money to buy contact lenses. However, working full time for the NPS after college, at the Statue of Liberty, where there was no housing available....man, that was a whole new ball game.

Lunch was a can of tuna fish. I could get a week out of a can of Dinty Moore by stretching it with rice from the corner bodega. And beer, a $2 six - pack staple, turned into a luxury afforded only on the 1st and 15th of each month. My first night in NYC, I held up a six pack of Schlitz to the owner of the bodega and asked how much - - since nothing had a price. "Six dollars," he replied. I put it back and thought, "Welcome to Manhattan" and grabbed a quart of Blatz for two bucks.

Schlitz was my pay day beer then but Strohs was the beer of choice among most rangers. I'm not sure if that's because they all seemed to be from the Midwest or not. Last weekend, I was patrolling the beer isle in one of those football field NJ liquor stores and found Schlitz for $5 a 12 pack. When I thought back to the price in 1984...it just boggled my mind.

That other belt is an NPS western tooled sequoia pine cone belt. It was always the 'secret hand shake' among NPS employees. Telling a ranger at another park that you were a ranger was far too vulgar. Instead, you wore this belt (which is hard to miss) and a ranger was sure to ask if you worked for the park service. This would lead to a conversation about whether their park was hiring seasonals, had housing and what a 6 pack of Schlitz might set you back.

Park Rangers - Fantasy vs Reality

My Fantasy

My Reality

Paid in Sunsets - Living in a National Park

Johnson House - Ft Matanzas, Sumerhaven, FL

Huntington's Quarters, Valley Forge NHP

Lord Stirling's Quarters - Valley Forge NHP

In exchange for a low paying job, the NPS often, though not always, offered on site quaters for a small fee. I am grateful for having had the opportunity to live in each of the above as a park ranger. They have all been closed and are in serious disrepair as the Park Service focuses resources on the park's mission rather than living quarters.

The Johnson House in Summer Haven, FL faces the inland waterway at Ft Matanzas NM. Remote and gated, it was the most peaceful place I have ever lived. I entertained the retired news producer of The Today Show and his English wife on the flag stone terrace serving hor d'oeurves of Totino's frozen cheese pizza, a bucket of KFC chicken and Red, White and Blue beer. The producer's wife told me it was one of the most beautiful dinners she ever had.

Huntington's Quarters sits in the bottom of the valley across from the George Washington Memorial Chapel in Valley Forge. Long closed, it was once host to frequent parties of the rangers who lived there. At one party, a NPS historian from Philadelphia offered up for sale a bayonet from the American Revolution. A ranger from Iowa inspected the bayonet for a couple of minutes and upon handing it back pointed to the barely legible stamp of the letters "a" and "n" just above the socket. A closer inspection with a loop revealed the word, "Japan." We never heard from the historian again.

Lord Stirling's Quarters sits on Yellow Springs Road just past the covered bridge on the far west side of Valley Forge. When I lived here, I always thought it would be the kind of house I would own one day. A Pennsylvania stone farm house from the 18th Century with fire places in every room. Sadly, the interior is gutted due to a termite infestation. It breaks my heart. Scenes from the television mini series, George Washington with Barry Bostwick, were filmed in my upstairs bedroom. Proof left by deep scratches to the wide plank floor from a careless camera crew.

Money and the making of it - will never come close to the memories I have of these unique homes. It's pleasing to know I can't spend memories.

The National Parks: America's Best Idea

Ranger at the Castillo de San Marcos

The Ken Burn's documentary on the National Park Service runs this week. Last night's two hour opening was a treat. Before I left the NPS for civilian chores - - a supervisor warned me not to quit before I gave a real park out west a try. I had only worked in heavily visited urban sites. It was never a regret until last night.

American Beauty

American Beauty by Henrich Kemerling

I was walking down 5th Avenue, something in NYC they have yet to charge you for, and was looking at retailer's windows and I kept thinking, "Who would ever buy that?" And then I remembered when I was 12 or so and Bridgette Bardot was hot, the Monkees were cool and my Campbell's Tomato soup shorts were keen. Pretty much because somebody said so. I still have no idea who - - but you were considered a bone head if you didn't agree.

We all do it in our youth. The trick is to grow out of it by 40. Watching the Emmys, I was amazed how all actresses blended into a sameness. I had a client once who extruded aluminum. I'm wondering...is there a Hollywood extrusion press? The faces and bodies remind me of a Marriott hotel room -- Void of any character less they offend.

Most of us simply do not trust our instincts. And we're terrified to say what we like unless it's backed up by a GQ article, a photo spread in Playboy or, the absolute worse, something on the Today Show. As you get older you'll trust your own instincts - - if only because you've been down that road so many times before.

This spells trouble for people who wanna sell us something. They need you to agree with them about a word I grew up with...cool. Is it cool? Is she cool? That's cool. I wanna be cool. Are you cool? Steve McQueen was cool. Wasn't he? I read a biography. Not so cool. And I don't believe McQueen wanted to be cool. All he wanted was a father...and that didn't work out.

A cultural self reliance is key to a well lived life. I see a lotta people in the wine store with a tear out card from the Wine Spectator asking, "It got a 92. It's gotta to be good. Right?" The WS is a good place to start - - it's not a good place to finish. All of this could be a bohemian outlook. The path less traveled. But I don't like paths or woods. I decided when I got out of the Army I was never gonna go camping again. I like the avenues. With lots of traffic. I walk down them and,

"so many things fill my head and then I let it go and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life... You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry... you will someday."

Friday Belt: Bourbon & UK

Maker's Mark and University of Kentucky Needlepoint Belt

I fell in love with this belt. A hand made needlepoint done in 1974. I'm not a Wildcats fan but I do like the unique. I don't know the original owner or the artist but... I know this for what it is...late 20th Century folk art. At least to me. I'm probably ahead of the curve. How much is any one's guess. But I will guarantee you this. At some point in the future - - belts like this are gonna be in auction houses and snobby antique dealer shops up and down Madison. For now, we all get to play.

$25 all in. I figure the design is not a pattern but was created by the artist. Add to that the time it took and the beautiful harness and I have something that not only keeps my trousers up...I have a little piece of art. And if someone asks, "Hey, did you go to UK?" I'll say proudly, "No, I'm a collector."

And if someone asks, "Are you a bourbon drinker?" I'll say proudly, "Not really. But I write about booze and belts and I'm running outta both." Back in the mid 90's, I scored seats in the private clubhouse of the Keeneland horse track in Lexington, KY. I don't know anything about horses or gambling but I did notice some jockey the day before was always in the top three. So, I bet on this guy, Pat Day. I did alright. The clubhouse has a dress code and ties and jackets were required for men. Southern Trad was everywhere. And so were men ordering, "Maykah's Mawk and Coke all while flicking ashes off Marlboro Lights. I hadn't seen that much smoking since the Army.

Maker's Mark is a light and amazingly smooth bourbon. Mix it in a Coke and you can barely tell it's there. I tried it with Gosling's Ginger Beer (because I still can't find Barritt's in NYC) and it was too hot. Anyway, I'll throw my UK belt on this weekend and have a Coke and Maker's Mark. Hell, I might even watch some football.

Brooksgate 1985

Brooksgate Fall Catalog 1985

You can still get all of this. Even that hunting dog sweater. Just go to Polo.

1981 Fall Fleece

Brooks Brother's Fall 1981 Catalog

Autumn 1950

Flair Magazine July 1950

Samba Brunch

Caetano Veloso's Little Lion

I apologise for the synch on this but it's Sunday. A time for the NY Times, French Press coffee, bacon and blueberry pancakes. This music mixes perfectly with the cool breeze from open windows on this beautiful New York City morning.