Happy Mother's Day

Lake Norman, NC - Summer, 1971

Mitt Romney tried to cut my hair that year. I kicked him in the balls.

Fuck Yeah Menswear Exposed or What Do I Have to Do to Work For GQ?

Lawrence Schlossman: Skeezy Dude behind, "Fuck Yeah Menswear" (Foto: Briana Heard, Gilt)

Lawrence & the goof troop

'Rence reads an email from Simon & Schuster

They don't know it's me?

They know.

Google it.

Schlossman.

Gotta work for it.

Take their lunch money.

Can't know everything.

Who knew?

Brewster the Wooster

is not a Rooster.

Nobody...in Ft Wayne.

Could taste that GQ gig.

Escaped the PR Rigs.

Pitti the fool.

Turning Gilt to Thor.

In a Viking longboat.

In the park.

Behind 1166.

Sucking a Marlboro light.

Ryder rents trucks.

So where the fuck.

Are my double monks.

I want a dude who's ultra hygienic.

Not someone

who cleans his nails

with a dipstick.

I saw a couple gays

at Grammercy for dinner.

Only one ate.

Is that how it works?

Jeesie Steezie.

Puddin and pie.

Kiss da boys.

And start writin'

for Fashion.

But Fashion's jail.

Like Murph the Surf

told the prison guard.

Boss,

it ain't real but it's close.

Is That a Cucumber in Your Seersucker?

Esquire Magazine, March - 1983, Photo by Fabrizio Gianni

Behind those smashing argyle socks stands the rare double breasted seersucker. Something of an anachronism due to Summer's humid heat but dash it's good looking. Standing on the far right is an even rarer three piece gray seersucker. The Club Collar puts it over the top for an Edwardian echo but it's understated enough so as not to look like a costume.

Unfortunately, I sweat profusely from the back of the neck and crotch. Consequently, CS gas attacks in the Army were a real drag and the wearing of a three piece or DB seersucker is a sad impossibility. Only for the luckiest of cucumbers.

Spring's Socks

Esquire Magazine, March 1983, Photo by Fabrizio Gianni

My mission for Spring and Summer is to bring back socks. I'm probably not going to make it but a man has to do what a man has to do.

Sherry's Spring

From left: La Cigarrea (Manzanilla) $12.99, Sangre y Trabajadero (Oloroso)$19.99, LaGarrocha (Fino) $13.99

There's tremendous bullshit going on in today's world. I suppose that's associated with greed. My 'Old Man' said they're two kinds of people, "Takers & Givers." I'm guessing the people who make Sherry are "Givers." For now.

For 10 years or so, I've been telling anyone who'd listen about Sherry. I was researching American colonies in the 18th Century and hogsheads of Sherry, along with Madeira, came up over and over in the correspondence of the day. I like drinking history so I had to give them a try.

Chilled Manzanilla and Fino won out over the sweeter Sherry. Bone dry and iced down like beer, they are the salty Atlantic rushing over your lips and sliding up your tongue. If there is a woman who can kiss like the ocean -- I want to know her. Clean, bright, filled with the sun and simple. Olive's stuffed with lemon. Spanish sardines with lemon. Langosta with lemon. You feel it in the back of your mouth where it makes you pucker and smile.

Spring is a good time to try it. I'll admit, it's not for everyone...but for those in the know, it's cheap, plentiful and amazing. There's no better way to visit Spain or the 18th Century. Just bring the food, Manzanilla olives, Manchego cheese, Marcona almonds and sliced Jamon iberico. And look for the woman who can kiss like the sea.

Cinco de Derby

Cinco


de Derby

Crazy? Take This Test...

From Special Forces Briefing, Ft Bragg, NC, 1978

Back in 2005, pal and crime writer, Wallace Stroby was looking for back ground on an ex-Army character he was developing for a third novel. Rather than winging it and creating a complete joke (Jack Reacher comes to mind), Stroby consulted my father who was kind enough to cc me in on their correspondence.

From: phred
To: Wally
Subject: Of Looney Tunes & Real Nutzos
Date: 11 May 2005

Looney Tunes goes with the territory of Special Ops people, cops, and similar "elite" (as they see themselves) in order to maintain the "glamorous" image portrayed in film and novels. Generally, this involves relatively harmless "prankster" stuff. The cop at a party who crawls under a glass-topped table to see if the woman sitting on it is wearing underwear. The SF guy who crawls up in the rafters in a bar and takes a "dump" over the ceiling fan.

But, then, there are the real Nutz with severe mental problems. At one point, you refer to the character as feeling "...no one is fit to judge him or his actions." That may be, but it's also characteristic of psychopaths and sociopaths, and then it becomes a real danger. In Special Forces, for example, precautions were taken to "weed out" the real nutz.

I remember taking a variety of psychological tests, including the Minnesota Multiphasic. Problem is/was that psychos are able to lie so successfully that they're most difficult to detect -- and can even beat a lie detector. I had such a nut on my first team. Was able to get rid of him before he did serious harm.

I understand that the shrinks are getting better with more effective tests than the simple multiple choice versions that attempted to catch people contradicting their previous answers. Here's a sample:

A woman, while at the funeral of her mother, met a man she did not know. She thought this guy was amazing, so much her dream guy she believed him to be just that! She fell in love with him right there, but didn't ask for his number and could not find him. A few days later she killed her sister.

Question: What is her motive in killing her sister?

Answer: She was hoping that the man would appear at her sister's funeral. If you answered this correctly, you think like a psychopath or sociopath.

By the way, if you got the answer correct, please let me know so I can take you off my email list -- unless that will piss you off, in which case I'll be extra nice to you from now on.

Connie Crispell's Derby Party: 1984

New York Magazine, June 25th, 1984, by Michael Daly


Charles Ransom Photo: New York Magazine


Photo: Joe DeMaria, NY Post

I remember hearing about the girl in the trunk shortly after moving to NYC in the Fall of 1984. Her story was told in clubs and bars like JG Melon and the Surf Club. A preppy red head from a good family in Virginia. Found dead in the same trunk where she kept picture scrap books and moved outside to the balcony when her murderer could no longer stand the smell. It was a story that slowed drinking and sent many home early. It was Breakfast at Tiffany's -- gone wrong.

Connie Crispell worked as a sales associate on the main floor of Brooks Bothers at 346 Madison. According to an employee, she was beautiful and, like many of the young women who worked at Brooks, she liked to party.

"Connie was 'off the hook' as we'd say. Getting into problems. I talked to her a couple times. You have to be careful, I said. You don't even know who these men are... What happened with Connie and another girl from Greenwich, these girls started turning tricks with foreigners who used to come in here..."

Connie Crispell threw a Kentucky Derby party in her apartment on May 5th, 1984. Sometime in the early morning of May 6th, Connie's pimp, Charles Ransom visited her and according to a statement he made after his arrest, became enraged after she told him she had AIDs. He strangled her, stuffed the body in a trunk and within hours was running two prostitutes out of the apartment. Four days later, police were called by the owners Connie sublet from when they rang the bell only to discover Ransom and two hookers.

I remember the main floor of Brooks Brothers in January of 1984 and wonder if I saw Connie. She was stationed by the 44th Street door. Shetland sweater, red hair, Peter Pan collar. Doing what hookers were doing in Times Square. New York City is like that. You never know what's really going on behind normal facades -- even Brooks Brothers facades.



I walk by her apartment building on 58th Street and look up at the balconies. I think of how our stories survive us and wonder if anyone could have saved her. Michael Daly wrote a story for New York Magazine that can be read here. It's a tragedy but I'm also reminded of a friend who was mugged in Washington Square. I asked him what he was doing in the park and he said smoking a joint. I asked what time it was and he tells me 2:00 AM. New York is like that.

The employee remembers, "I said, been there, done that. Partying and all that. I said, you gotta be careful. New York's...Look, if you're looking for Mr Goodbar - they'd all seen the film. I said, be careful of that..."

Albemarle High School: Drama Club, Tennis Team, SGA, Cheerleader

Connie's story continues to unfold on line:

She was one of the most fascinating, seductive and wonderful people I have ever known. If I could have married her and protected her...I would have. We were having lunch one day at Jackson Hole during a break when I was helping her move. She looked across the table at one point and asked me, "You want to save me don't you?" "Yes" I replied. She answered that she didn't want to be saved.

"We Ain't Got No Beer..."

Ft Bliss (El Paso), TX, 1963


Me, Upper Left - Debbie, Lower Right, Hose, Background


"We Got Beer," Rosa Mexicana


Rosa Mexicana, Union Square

The Old Man loved Mexican food like he loved the West. Cheap, hot and not a lot a fans. Well, used to be. Charlotte, NC -- Sometime in 1970. Not a lot of fans. A new Mexican restaurant opened and it looked like the Alamo. We pulled into an empty parking lot on opening night.

Five of us cram into a red banquette and a waiter takes orders. It takes forever for my family but military life in Texas and Mexican towns speaks to our cutting edge knowledge of Mexican food. Hell, in 1970 Charlotte, we were cutting edge... and we were showing off.

The waiter looks to the Old Man for the last order -- he gives it and adds a beer. "We ain't got no beer," says the waiter without looking up. I'm not sure what the Old Man's thinking, "Do they expect me to drink sweet iced tea like everyone else in this one horse town?" Or, "He didn't even look at me."

What the Old Man said was, "Then what'aya doing with all those beer signs lit up in your windows?" The waiter opens his mouth. I look down at the table and wince. The bull has entered the arena. He is snorting and pissed off.

30 years later, I order Carne Asada tacos with hand made corn tortillas, marinated hanger steak, raw chopped onion, cilantro and lime. No cheese. No salsa. The waitress looks at me and says, "You eat like a Mexican." I think I'd be happy with those words on my tombstone. Under, "He never ate a Big Mac. He never watched, 'Titanic.' He never stepped foot in Las Vegas."

I remember eating at Rosa Mexicana in 1985. My date was Jean, an FBI agent who was learning Italian and who is better remembered here. The tab was a quarter of my monthly take home pay. Rosa Mexicana is still at it. I'm a fan. The Union Square location has always been my favorite. If I were you, skip the table and head for the bar.

Guacamole and a beer starts it off with a side of corn tortillas. Butter and salted or spread with Guac -- Doesn't matter. At least I know what I'll be eating when I lose my teeth. About a year ago, Rosa did a Pork Pibil that was as brilliant as it was unknown. Slow cooked in banana leaves covered in an achiote paste. Not sure why but they discontinued it.

The Carne Asada tacos are my way home to El Paso. They connect me with tumble weeds and horny toads and underground desert forts we built as kids. A girl named Debbie made me walk a garden hose shaped like a heart. If my foot slipped off -- I had to kiss her. Later, her brother and I went to the Ft Bliss skating rink and I dropped a cherry coke on the smooth hard wood floor. The spill arc must'a been 20 feet.

Rosa Mexicana always takes me back to El Paso and it never hurts to be six again. It does hurt to remember Charlotte, NC again. The waiter tells the Old Man they don't have their liquor license yet. I remember thinking that might explain the empty parking lot but not before I hear, "Let's go." And we all follow the Old Man out of the Mexican restaurant. Adios, mi amour...

Film Stick:

"The Stick"
1984, Olympus OM-1, 85mm lens, Tri-X, Model: DB
2012, Instagram, X-Pro II

Anyone use either?

You Know Film, Boy?

Topcon Super RE

Known in the states as the Super D. Bought by the old man in Korea in '70. He didn't like Nikons. They used leather for the film advance mechanism. Topcon used a chain. The camera lens is a hunk of 58mm glass and can open as wide as 1.4 -- Low light with Tri-X? Amazing what it could do.

Was kicked off the year book in '73 for arguing with the head photographer. Told him his Nikon and his pictures sucked. Retreated to dark rooms built by the old man. A bathroom in Hampton, VA. A basement in Colorado Springs. A dream retirement dark room off a Florida room.

Dad designed and built a custom print washer outta plexiglas. Piped stereo in. What felt like an hour was five. Time flew in the dark but we never worked together. I guess we liked being in the dark alone.

At 17, I apprenticed for a photographer who grabbed me in the crotch. Before that happened, I learned to use his 8x10 view camera and Hasselblads. Also learned to print Cibachrome. Man, Cibachrome's brilliant colors and plastic sheen finish was addictive. But not enough to stick around a perv who hailed from one of America's richest banking families.

Broke into the studio during a rain storm late one night. Grabbed a 3 ring binder of my negatives and never went back -- Except a year later. A portrait in my Army khakis and green beret. To prove a point. "Grab my dick now, motherfucker. I'll bite your Adams apple out and spit it in your face." He took the portrait with the 8x10 view and Panatomic 32.

I love film -- Rolling that sweet smell onto a stainless steel reel. You never forget, you know? It's like driving a stick. But no one seems interested in doing that anymore either.

You Do What You Have To Do...

John Mason Brown, 1952

"Remember, you have been spared the unintentional cruelty of that kind of Progressive education which misleads the young into believing that they will be free to do what they want to do, at the moment and in the way they want to do it. The reality of life is quite different. Most people spend most of their days doing what they do not want to do in order to earn the right, at times, to do what they may desire. . .


John Mason Brown, Esquire, 1960

Testing has been the eternal challenge. To live, men have had to live with this challenge through the ages but undaunted by it, even as they have had to live with the knowledge that death is the ultimate challenge of life. . .


John Mason Brown, Obituary, 1969

To say that the world at present stinks is to understate its fragrance. To say that it must stink forever is a lie. . . I trust that you and your contemporaries will earn the right to be known as the unbeatable generation."

John Mason Brown, Graduation Address, Groton School, 1958

M: The Civilized Book

The most fun I've had with my clothes on.

White Bucks - Black Robes

Flagler College, St Augustine, FL - 1981

I was a work grant student in the college PR department. Freshman year I photographed the graduation ceremony above. I graduated in 1984 but no one took a picture of me. I always thought it had to do with my white bucks.

Shortly before graduation, a memo was sent to seniors with instructions for what to wear with black robes. For men, it was dark colored pants and dark or black shoes. I wore white trousers and white bucks.

I remember thinking, "What are they gonna do? Take the dashes out of my social security number. Happy graduation. Special dispensation for white buck wearing prior to Memorial Day.

Barolo Restaurant: The Garden

Late lunch. Food was good. Wine was a '93. Not too crowded. No one seemed in a hurry.

Ft Bragg's Fashion Elite

Velvet slippers for the quiet professional...


"You know what Delta's gonna do when they see these pictures?"


"We gettin' hazardous pay for this?"



About to deliver some humanitarian assistance...



"All we need are some 8x10 head shots and we move to NYC..."



"Hey, at least you didn't have to empty the shitter like the guy in the yellow coat."



"That's odd. I only get the funny feeling when I climb rope."



"Could you get me a Latte?"

GQ Style Spring Summer 2012 (click image to enlarge)

Designer Adam Kimmel styled a photo shoot with the 3rd Special Forces Group at Ft Bragg. Usually a reader will alert me to a story like this and save me from open-mouthed shock at a public magazine stand. GQ Style-U.K. calls the piece, "The Quiet Professionals." There's some irony for you. I don't think anyone at Ft Bragg will be calling 3rd Group quiet anymore.

Kimmel had 'Marlboro Man' photographer Jim Krantz shoot the spread for the magazine whose, "... challenge was to take fashion clothes and put them in the context of the Green Berets without making it look outlandish." You can see more of the Green Beret photo shoot here at Jim's web site. Jim must love shooting things that'll kill ya.

I don't think it looks outlandish. Silly, yes. I doubt Kimmel knows much about the Green Berets and probably less about the sacrifice a Staff Sergeant makes for $36,000 a year. But in fairness to a clueless hipster fashion designer and British fashion magazine -- the U.S. Army said yes. Which makes me wonder about future military collaborations with magazines.

Playboy's, "Threesome in an Abrams." Field & Stream's, "Fishing with Grenades." And Out Magazine's Norfolk Seamen, "We Don't Drink and We Don't Cuss - Nor-Fuck! Nor-Fuck!" Tax dollars subsidizing fashion photo shoots for British fashion mags. We called that FUBAR when I was in the Army - Great name for a magazine.

"...a pretty exciting place"

"Sa-a-ay! This looks like a pretty exciting place!"

From, 'The Booze Book' edited by Ralph Schoenstein, 1974

'His Mother' & 'Contemporary Gothic' at the Mint

"Don't do the crime if you can't do the time..."

American Giant has offered up three black T shirts for field review. Two large and one extra large. If you'll comment on how you propose to do your field test and agree to report the results in two weeks -- I'll send you one.

American Giant Black T-Shirt $25

A lot of people in the apparel business will tell you it's impossible to manufacture in the U.S. anymore. Actually, what they're really saying is it's impossible to make a 600% to 1,000% markup manufacturing in the U.S. anymore. Man, that's criminal.

A year and half ago, Avery Lucas designed a canvas trouser for The Trad and I featured it here. Button fly with side tabs, Avery contrasted dressier details with humble canvas fabric. We found a U.S. manufacturer who'd make it for $60. We'd sell it direct for $120. A trouser twice the quality at half the cost. What happened? That's a very long story.

I sat down with American Giant CEO, Bayard Winthrop and in less than five minutes our heads were both going north and south over the issue of insane mark ups. Winthrop's idea is simple. Basic tops made in the U.S. and sold direct. He explained that men are a lot more comfortable ordering apparel on line. Especially if it's well made and well priced. I don't think he's onto something -- I know he is.

Sweatshirts ($60) and t-shirts ($25) are thick-solid and well made. I've seen old, made in USA, Russel sweatshirts going for $100+ in Manhattan's "Vintage" boutiques. Clearly, that's drunken sailor money and some will argue $25 for a t-shirt is too. I'll only say this. I have an affection for black t-shirts.


Dad wore 'em,



I wore 'em,



Sgt Nick Penis wore 'em,



Mayne wore 'em,





and Baretta wore 'em.


I could wear 'em all year long -- But I'll need to know, "where can I go where the cold winds don't blow."