Happy Hump Day

Rugby's Sale Away

I would.  I'm not, but I would if I were 30 years younger. Old guys my age look pretty silly in stuff like this -- but if I were 25? I like to remember when I was 25 -- Hell, I'd  be a fool not to.  Order here.

Trad Xmas List: Carroll & Co Cashmere Sweatshirt

Full disclosure-  I have a huge prejudice against most things California.  Whenever I see a Los Angeles address for a PR pitch, I delete it without reading it. Why?  Because I know it will have something to do with celebrities and I don't give a shit what sunglasses or t-shirt a celebrity wears much less what magazine cover they're gonna be on. What really amazes me is why so many people do care.

Carroll & Co Wall of Cashmere

John Carroll, third generation owner of Beverly Hills haberdasher, Carroll & Co., isn't all that crazy about naming his celebrity customers and that's refreshing.  The 48 year old self proclaimed traditionalist does want you to know that, while his tailored clothing (suits) business is down, casual sportswear is up. Way up.

Keep it simple

Unique, at least to me, is Carroll's cashmere sweatshirt.  Knitted in Hawick, Scotland, Carrol has been selling 32 colors of his contrarian cashmere for 30 years.  At $450, its become something of a collectable among his regular customers and I think it's over due for some East coat exposure.



Mama warned me about girls like Evelyn

Color selection is generous but I'd prefer white -- With jeans and dark brown suede paddock boots -- I think it's something Clint Eastwood's character in the actor's 1971 directorial debut, Play Misty for Me, might wear cruising Hwy 1 south of Montery in his convertible Jaguar with Donna Mills at his side and Jessica Walter waiting for them both in Carmel...Poor Jessica was robbed... robbed, I tell you,  from a Golden Globe by Jane Fonda in Klute that year...not that I'm, uh... into celebrities. 

Carroll & Co.
425 North Canon Drive
Beverly Hills, California 90210
Phone Orders:  (888) 331-9060

Christmas Tea

Lake Forest, IL 1995

My college journalism professor, Jack S Smith, was chief editor of the Associated Press in London during WWII and news editor for the Today Show until his retirement in 1980. I was photo editor of the college newspaper and D-76 pumped through my veins. It was one of my career fantasies to be a photojournalist... complete with safari jacket and a couple black bodied Nikons hanging around my neck and a Lucky Strike hanging outta my mouth.

We were discussing ethics in journalism one day when I asked Jack what purpose was served by sticking a camera lens in the face of a grieving mother who lost her son in a tragic accident. Jack said it was news and that years after the initial story, that image would still be around... telling its story.  I thought of Capa, Weegee, W Eugene Smith and other photographers who had to stick a lens in a grieving face and I understood Jack. I also understood I didn't have that ability. 

Years ago, I was asked to take photos of my mother in law's Christmas Tea.  And long after the tea...the images are still around.  Haven't had any hits Googling, "Christmas Tea Photographer Job" yet, but I'll keep trying.

Two Foxy Sweaters - Only One Has Soul

Christopher Fischer Fox Sweater in Cashmere

Trad Needlepoint Fox Sweater in Cotton

I like mine better. From The Trad Archives, 27 April 2009

"My ex sister-in-law needle pointed this sweater as a wedding gift almost 21 years ago. I'll always remember her even though we haven't spoken since the divorce. I'll think about the superficial nature of clothes and then I wear this Fox on a Spring afternoon and am taken back to a time that no longer exists and to people I no longer know. The soul of something hand made with the power to take me back in time never ceases to amaze me."

...and the Dutch

Flickr Set Here

"Someone Make a Time Machine Already" 1961 Fall Weekend In New York

Friday Night with a Debutante: "Skim the roofs in a helicopter and a suede-cloth suit"

Friday Night with a Poetess: "She's in the clouds anyway, so take her for a walk in an all-weather coat"

Saturday Before Dark: "A pull-over for a ferry ride --"

"A suit of tweed takes you to a twilight concert"

Saturday Night: "For an elegant evening (and Barbara Bel Geddes backstage), a vested blue serge --"

"For a casual one, a sweater, but dressier"

Sunday- The Week End's End: A Donegal tweed jacket..."

...or a wool sport coat will see the day out." The Peacock Caffe'

Esquire Magazine, September, 1961  (click on image to enlarge)

Nicely written & shot without credit to writer or photographer.  A contrast to today's fashion spreads of actors and rappers with half naked women, extruded  by LA,  holding their crotch or flipping the bird while credits go to every strap hanger and coke-pourer in the room.

The old Esquire was a big mamma-jamma.  It's hard to describe what reading one was like when I was 10 years old.  Not only because I didn't understand a whole helluva lot of it  -- It was almost taller than I was.  But like reading Shakespeare, you don't always need to understand every word to get the gist of what's happening in the play.

It's good to be a man.

Not Just Any: Shawl Collar Cardigan

"M" Magazine, October, 1986 (photo credit: Kyle Ericksen)

"The sweater was PRL (Polo Ralph Lauren) in Argyll & Sutherland Highlander stripe wool. Any time you see an unusual shawl collar cardigan, 90% chance it's PRL. It's been done in fair isle, gun check, chalk stripe, reggie stripe, awning stripe, indigenous American, you name it. Wool, cashmere, linen, cotton, jute...." Jamgood

Trad Rule # 9

Trad Rule #9: You can never have too many sweaters. Have a happy and natural fiber filled Fall.

Off My Back: Primary Colors & Attitude

David Chu LINCS - Yellow (Gold) University Stripe Oxford

Class bow tie from El Paso Community College

Yellow university stripe oxford is a tough fabric to find. I've told you about this before. In fact, everyone who had it two months ago seems to be out of it. Nelson Mui of David Chu Design surprised me with this shirt last week while generously offering a venue for my interview with Robert Bryan. I gotta read my horoscope 'cause stuff like this never happens to me.

It's a beauty of a shirt. At 11 ounces (I weigh shirts as well as wear them) it's in the ball park of MTM but shy of the 13 1/2 ounces you get at Mercer & Sons (we'll get to Mercer next week). While the pattern matching yoke to sleeve isn't dead on --it's pretty darned close. That's amazing.

That's the great news. Bad news. It's made in China and you have to go to Dillard's. Whatever that is. Swear to God, never been to one. The shirt comes in a profusion of bright colors like Lime Green but it's still an oxford.

Primary colors. Blue, yellow and red. The Trad hallmark as far as I'm concerned. And it is with this observation that I pass along some advice. Never forget how you look to others. Got that? It may save your life.

I know a lot of you don't give a hoot about what other people think of you. And that's fine. But I'm talking about something else. When you're strolling around in a cardigan sweater, a bow tie and a yellow stripe oxford - you're sending a message. Robert Bryan does a brilliant job defining this in his book. He writes, "Because menswear is so precise, the smallest selections, such as bow tie, work boots, round glasses, or a fedora, can speak volumes about the character of the man who wears them."

I often forget what I'm wearing. Or driving. And that can spell trouble.

There's a lotta baggage that comes with this car. Never mind it's a 2002 model with over 100,000 miles on it and worth less than a Hyundai. I moved to New York City in this car and parked it in a midtown garage for a couple of months. Just before Christmas, the Golf Foxtrot and I headed south on the NJ Turnpike. I pulled into one of the first gas stations and when I got out of the car to fill up a young kid comes running over to me, "Full service, full service!"

I give him a credit card and he swipes it, sticks the hose in my tank and runs off to another car. I'm a quart low of oil (always) and I grab a quart I carry in the car (always), pop the hood and top off my oil. The windows are caked thick in some frozen kind of dirt from the parking garage. I'm looking for a squeegee but all the windshield wiper buckets are dry and there's not a squeegee anywhere.

The attendant comes back again, yanks the hose outta the tank and I ask, "Do you have any squeegees?" "No," he says handing me my credit card and receipt and off he goes. As he's leaving I say, "You call this full fucking service?" He stops and turns and says, "What did you say?" And I say, "You call this full fucking service." And he replies, "Yeah, well fuck you!" And I reply, for lack of any better words, "Fuck you!"

I hear laughing and turn to see the other attendants who appear to be enjoying this immensely. As I walk to the car, my attendant shouts out, "Merry Fucking Christmas!" At which point I try to be more personal and shout back, "Happy Fucking Three Kings! I get in the car and drive off. The Golf Foxtrot, who is not happy with my behaviour, lets me have it. That's another post unto itself. After she stops we ride in silence for two and a half hours.

Why did he go off? I dunno. Maybe the car and the Florida tags could have something to do with it. He was busting his ass in the freezing cold two nights before Christmas and I'm sure I was asshole number 37 that night. The Shaggy Dog Shetland, hi water chinos, pink socks and Bean Moccasins could have also added hi test to the fire. He was Hispanic. I'm Nordic. We both end in 'icks.' I'd probably go off on myself that night given the right circumstances--of which there were many.

Sometimes I forget how I appear to others. I also know I'm not how other people see me. Yet, I can barely see myself which may be part of the problem. So, tread easy in bow ties and cardigans and shirts of primary colors. Just because we're well dressed doesn't mean we have to be assholes about it.