A Man's Movie: The Last Detail

"You know what I like most about this uniform? The way it makes your dick look."


" I knew a whore once in Wilmington. She had a glass eye... used to take it out and wink people off for a dollar. "



Be sure to check out Randy Quaid @ 4:24

The Last Detail (1973) was as important a film to me as The Wild Bunch (1969) and Electra Glide in Blue (1974). "Bunch" and "Blue" are the book ends of off beat films whose sole contrarian purpose in Hollywood seemed to be, "Fuck the money - Lets make the picture we wanna make." Stephen Spielberg would end that in 1975 with the new concept of "Blockbuster" via Jaws.

I was a 15 year old high school student who was geek enough to join Naval Junior ROTC. And like so many things in life -- I did it for the cool clothes: Naval Academy uniforms consisting of khakis, which required military press -- dress blues -- An anchor cap with khaki and white covers and my favorite, an almost black, navy CPO shirt with matching tie. Worn with the ultra-cool 'tie tuck.'

My best friend's father worked with Dad at Continental Army Command at Ft Monroe. Ed and I traveled the old post slapping 'Sailors Have More Fun' bumper stickers on anything they'd stick to. Prior to the Army - Navy game, a foiled attempt was made to spray paint, "Go Navy" on the Ft. Monroe water tower. Never wear all black against a grey background.

I saw The Last Detail at the post movie theater. It would be my first 'R' rated movie and it would contribute a cornucopia of vulgar expressions to my already impressive 'Army Brat' archive. Robert Towne wrote the screenplay from a novel by Darryl Ponicsan. Hal Ashby directed, even though he was busted for marijuana possession in Canada while scouting locations and Jack Nicholson considered it his best role. Of course...no one has ever seen it.

Hal Ashby (1929-1988), Otis Young (1932-2001) and Jack Nicholson

I watch it today and can easily see what attracted me. Two petty officers are assigned Shore Patrol detail to escort an 18 yr old seaman to prison in Portsmouth. What begins as a scheme to collect per diem, turns into a road trip of Schlitz, whores, a Penn Station bathroom fight with Marines and a picnic in the middle of a New Hampshire Winter.


"You forgot the mustard?"

Sewn into the humor is bleak darkness we don't see in film anymore. Hell, even Towne and Ashby changed the ending from the book where 'Last Detail' predicts the outcome for the take-no-shit Buddusky played by Nicholson. Ultimately, life is a shit sandwich and few of us get any bread. How you live it and what you make out of it will not only define you...but you'll have to wear it as well.

Mulhal: You ever been married? Buddusky: Not so you'd notice.

Dive Bar Coasters

Thought up in an airport bar by a couple Trad readers -- I feel like a father. Special thanks to Kay and Sally.

The Art of T&A...

New digs in old Asprey digs...


Where buttons come from


Silk shirting from the archives


More silk shirting - via Instagram



WWII shirt from Jermyn Street



"Torches" from WWII


Brolly handles


Dressing room


Pocket frogging


and sleeves


Another world...


another Friday belt?


Silk dressing gown makes use of 12 screens


Sleeves


Moleskins


Limited edition shirts...


utilizing vintage T&A designed fabric


My "Magda" editor jacket


Traditional T&A stripes


Kingdom of Evening Wear


Smoking jacket



More sleeves

The Morning Coat


Custom shirts...


and even socks (by Corgi)


Photo by Cecil Beaton


The library


More Brolly handles


Preppy?

Turnbull & Asser recently moved a couple store fronts east from their old location to the long vacant Asprey Shop on 57th Street near Park Avenue. It's like walking into some very grand hotel... a hotel I could never afford unless I was on business. It's like meeting a beautiful woman in a bar, and I can't figure out why she's so interested in me, until I discover her business. In short, it's a place I don't belong.

But NYC is full of people who belong. Missing here is the, "We're not worthy" Midwestern attitude I came to love in Chicago... along with Old Style beer and the Chicago Cubs. T&A probably threw out the welcome mat after I wiped my feet upon entering but I never saw anyone do it. They're that discreet and even that friendly.

You enter the store through a small library. An archives of beautiful vintage shirts sit behind glass as if they're in a museum. And they are. T & A has taken great care of their history unlike many retailers I can name. But then we Americans love to throw old stuff away.

There's a hip new section of black, Gore Textual, Loro Piana (why are the Italians here?) that I found out of place. But I was reminded of how little I know when a celebrity, tall and good looking, made a significant purchase of a black, Gore Textual, cashmere lined something or other. Certainly he belonged.

Lighting grows with a beautiful sun like intensity while climbing the stairs from the ground floor library. Small boutiques are sartorially bordered by T&A kingdoms of evening wear, dressing gowns, shirts, ties, jackets and suits. Classics abound. A hacking pocket navy blazer might be considered a bit off the reservation but their solid charcoal suit has to be the best suit a man can buy.

But it is the dressing gowns I especially lust after...If I were a magazine editor -- the male version of Magda from Ab Fab -- I'd get a bevy of beautiful women and shoot them wearing nothing but T&A dressing gowns and smoking jackets. Of course, it's the celebrities who belong here. I'm just visiting.

Hot, hot, hot, hot... Chocolate

In a city where a Remy Side Car goes for $23 in the King Cole Bar, an $8 cup of hot chocolate isn't that crazy. Not for what it is: thick goopy elegance that coats your mouth in a smooth layer of cocoa-sin. It's really something of a bargain for anyone used to living in NYC. Or, maybe I've been here too long.

Maison Du Chocolate is in the T.A.O. (Tourist Area of Operations). 30 Rockefeller Center (at 49th) and most folk, fresh from shaking signs at the Today Show, are scared off by the prices. For me, it's a convenient location on a cold and rainy afternoon. The kind of afternoon made for a Nooner at the Algonquin. But if you can't do that -- drinking hot chocolate at Maison Du Chocolate is the next best thing. Maybe it's the fourth best thing. Certainly it's in the top ten.

Dead or Alive: 25 Best Dressed (Full Article)

Esquire Gentlemen S/S 1993, Woody Hochswender - Editor











(click on image to enlarge)

The World's Best Dressed Man

Alan Flusser featured 25 of the best dressed men (living or dead) in Esquire's Gentleman issue - Summer, 1993. Sadly, he missed one. Not just a well dressed man but, as a certificate from the Swiss Tailor's Guild announced, "The World's Best Dressed Man." Even his shirts bore 'W.B.D.M.' monograms. I'm not sure how this man could have slipped by Flusser. Unless of course the monogram was on his cuff.

Khaibar Khan Goodarzian was, in 1961, man about town -- a man's man --a man of style, substance and, "550 suits, 50 tuxedos, a dozen full-dress outfits, several hundred pairs of shoes, lots of silk underwear and handkerchiefs from Sulka, $750,000 worth of jewelry and four rare and costly oriental rugs." or so says the proof of loss statement provided to the Continental Insurance Company.

Goodarzian claimed he was the hereditary chieftain of a northern Iranian tribe called the Bakhitari. An investigation revealed the humble roots of a dispatcher in a British Army motor pool. Still, New York City opened it's arms and charge accounts to Goodarzian. Parties at El Morocco, haberdashers and department stores, all on credit.

The "fire" (you knew there was gonna be a fire) occured late one night in his two bedroom apartment. Actually, it was a one bedroom apartment with a bedroom converted to a closet. A witness saw Goodarzian removing clothes from his apartment the day before the fire. And there was the testimony that, during a party at the apartment the same night of the fire, Goodarzian was upset when butane containers were late in arriving.

Good luck prevailed after Goodarzian disappeared with the butane containers in his bedroom but rejoined his guests and moved the party to a nightclub. It would be seven years before Goodarzian would learn his case, Saks & Co. et al. v Continental Ins. Co. et al., named after the creditors, would pay him nothing. A few years later, the W.B.D.M. was deported. I have no idea where.