Waiting For Bastian

I'm not a big Fashion Week kind'a guy. I live less than 10 blocks from Lincoln Center and have avoided the place like it had the plague. There's a sameness to fashion and the strap hangers (Army for, along for the ride) that is no longer all that surprising to me. Michael Bastian is different.

I don't like or get everything. Bastian's inspiration came from a 1974 NY Times piece about men in NYC who were favored for party invites due to their charm, intelligent conversation and, I presume, they were always single. A reprint of the article was included with the show notes and I was proud to see an insurance executive on the list. We're not usually included with intelligent conversation.

It's outta the box inspiration for a collection that stands out mostly because of what it's up against. The work wear, heritage, denim apron, chop wood, aesthetic lacks sophistication and probably owes more to bad taste than anyone, certainly in the media, is willing to admit. Those people are not gonna rock a boat they may be getting on someday.

Most of what came down the tarmac (I refuse to use that other word) was easily wearable. And what wasn't could be toned down without too much effort. The navy chalk stripe with red gingham spread collar shirt was right outta London and kicked the show off with an audible, "Whoa" from the crowd.

I'm guessing the men in that NY Times piece knew London well. One button single breasted peak lapels, contrasting and cutaway collars, suede tassel loafers, windowpane, moleskin, quilted coats...These terms are not native to New York in the '70s as much as they were brought to NYC from London.

Where ever Bastian's inspiration comes from -- it's obvious he didn't pick it up from watching Barney Miller reruns. What amazes me is Bernardo Rojo from Joseph Abboud did.

Happy M Day

"M" Magazine Volume One, Number One

I once gave a stripper a Whitman's Sampler for Valentine's Day. She was on the stage and on the pole but slid down with a huge grin when I held my offering over a front row of thugs with a dollar to stuff in her fluorescent green panties. I was 19 - and can say with confidence - it was my most successful Valentine's Day ever.

I've managed to screw the rest up. Mostly out of a belligerent disdain for mendacious 'Greeting Card' holidays. One of my middle aged (32) missteps involved a Victoria Secret white Teddy. She complained the fabric was itchy. I happily answered it wouldn't be on that long. She suggested the gift was for me and not her.

So, I give you something not so itchy but very selfish... the first issue of "M" Magazine. I had hoped to make an announcement today about my true love, "M" but it didn't happen. I think it might be payback for all those "V" Days I blew. But something is coming soon and it does not involve my wearing a white Teddy.

John Fairchild

"'He has by the nuts three of the most insecure segments of the population: Jewish garment manufacturers, homosexual fashion designers, and would-be socialites,' said a Seventh Avenue figure who usually hates anonymity but begged for it in this case."

From. 'Dr Fair & Mr Child' by Bob Colacello, Vanity Fair Magazine, May 1986

Friday Belt: Chardonnay & Drill Sgt. Hunt

Bramito del Cervo - $20

Eatlay Restaurant, NYC, 2012
Ah, Mr Tinsetta...so good to see you again. Ess cold out, no? I like'a that coat. Here, let me take that'a for yooo... We have'a today some wonderful feesh specials but I suggest the bruschetta with shrimps grilled in a' Limoncello and garlic to'a start. I have a very nice and'a reasonable Char-doe-nayy from Ooombria to go with it. You'a can't beat the price and it's from the same Antinori vineyard, Della Sala, you know - where your favorite, Cervaro comes from...It's not Cervaro but'a -- I like to say it's close for'a half the mooney...



Fatigue Web Belt - Four Years Active, Two Years Inactive

Ft Jackson, SC 1976
Tinset, you red faced maggot. If you're brains were gasoline -- there wouldn't be enough to run a piss-ant motorcycle half way 'round a fucking dime. Don't call me, sir. I work for a living. Did you know you move like old people fuck? Did'ga know that? Do you like me Tinset? You do?! Well, liken leads to lovin' and lovin' leads to fuckin' and you ain't fuckin' me, Tinset. I will guarantee you this... any trouble your sorry ass ever had sleeping will dis-A-fucking-ppear here. If I turned your brains into cotton there wouldn't be enough for a piss-ant Kotex...You think you could sound off with your general orders like you got a pair?

Inspiration: Givenchy & The Viet Cong

I was recently asked how women might mix patterns. I started digging around the Trad archives and found this Givenchy Couture sketch I bought without really knowing why. I put it away with the intention of framing it but never did. I have a whole lotta stuff I need to frame.



In the same folder was this watercolor I've been meaning to have framed. The dealer who sold it to me called it "Commie Art" and it's of a VC squad attacking a U.S. Army camp. It's dated 1968. I also bought this without knowing why.

Sometimes I'll see something -- art, clothes, pictures -- and think it's something else. Once corrected, I almost always enjoy what I think I saw more. I'm not sure if that's creativity as much as as it's nearsighted stealing.


The Givenchy fabric on the top reminds me of the camouflage pattern on the '50s French Foreign Legion Paratrooper smock. The green, orange and black tartan echos the night attack with its tents, fire and shadows.

With the understanding that inspiration can come from anywhere, and it's Fashion Week in New York...I propose trousers in the top camo and a jacket in the tartan. With a white oxford button down of course. Now where's my tent?

Will This Ever Disappear in NYC?

Rejected 'New Yorker' cartoon by Michael Shaw

Mining the Vintage Vein: Part III

I love places like this. They are the rock candy for my inability to focus.


John figures brand is less a consideration than stripe, pattern and details.


Green dress shirts are despised by retailers which must be why I like them so much.


A rag for many but at the stage of patina perfection for me.

Almost voile in weight and looking very '70s whether it is or not.


John and I talked a lot about the origins of clothing. To know why US Army issue khakis were always 8.2 ounces is to understand that military specifications had to be consistent regardless of who made them. Not 7 ounces. Not 11.2 ounces. 8.2 ounces. Otherwise...chaos.



My Norwegian fisherman's sweater goes back to 1986 and it's damned near like the day I bought it. Over a white cotton turtleneck and under a bright red down vest, we ran over sand dunes in South Haven, Michigan and later found ourselves covered in sand and Ladybugs. We didn't realize it then but our good luck had already happened.



I know I look back a lot. I guess it's the age or maybe there's just a lot to look back on. I'm still pissed off I left my swim trunks with the YMCA Shark patch in the pool locker room at Ft Bliss.



I was only six but that long ago regret has never gone away -- A slow shaking of the head as you look down at your feet knowing it's all your fault and there's nothing you can do about it -- The shoes change but the rest feels the same.


I've saved 4o or 50 empty cigar boxes. Each one is a story.

The Four Seasons bar in Chicago. A bunch of us from work and I crack open a cedar box of double coronas. A waiter brings the huge bar humidor over to a table of fellas sitting next to us. "Looks like my box is bigger than your box" says one of the fellas. I sadly look at my little box. After making their selections the waiter takes the humidor away. I lean towards their table and smile, "Looks like you don't have a box."



The Zippo burned a leg more than once. Careless overfilling with lighter fluid resulted in a red chafe-like circle on the thigh from seepage thru the pocket. I still have my grandfather's Zippo, a gift from his son -- But I long for the son's Vietnam Ronson engraved, "Fuck Communism."


Echos of French Souleiado. Hand carved block designs going back over 200 years to the south of France and made famous by Pierre Deux in Greenwich Village.



All the more special since the recent bankruptcy of Pierre Duex and the suburban success of insipid Vera Bradley knock offs.



Quartermaster Laundry starched fatigues cardboard stiff. I remember field stripping a cigarette butt by rolling the hot ash off between thumb and index finger. Butts were deposited in trouser pockets only to be pressed like tiny lumps if you forgot to take them out.

Mining The Vintage Vein - Part II

Designers are like dogs with bones. They'd much rather bury it than share it. Their holes of inspiration are all over Manhattan -- You just have to know where to look. John Gluckow of Strongarm Clothing & Supply Co. (SC&SC) is one such hole. A big hole and while John isn't hidden -- I'd say he's well camouflaged.

A lethargic elevator (I had a birthday on it) takes you to the 5th floor of 27 W 20th Street. It's one of those beautiful old buildings that most New Yorkers never look up to appreciate and the area is a target rich environment for the tourist brazen enough to ride off the Time's Square reservation. A few steps from Gramercy Tavern (Trad review here), Moore Brothers Wine (review coming) and Teddy Roosevelt's birthplace (historic NPS site of wild 1985 Ranger party), it's one of my favorite neighborhoods in the world.

Don't just show up. That would be rude. You're gonna have to call John Gluckow (917-453-3322) for an appointment. Tell him you read about SC&SC on the Trad. You don't need a lot of money but this isn't gonna be a $5 jaunt through a consignment shop. In fact, if you're anything like me, this will be a lot like standing in a whore house with your pants down and having no idea where to start. I'm not kidding. Gluckow really should provide an instruction manual.

Vintage can be hit and miss. Mostly miss. So much so, that when you find something barely passable, you tend to grab it. Never mind it doesn't fit or it's on its last legs. Here, everything you see would be gold in a typical thrift shop. John's vetted this place to the nth degree and the gold is everywhere you turn -- I kept stumbling over my trousers.

WWII and Vietnam era vintage khakis sit in a pile with striped morning suit trousers next to John Milius (a personal hero) shooting glasses, over a nickle presentation Zippo next to '60s Madras 3 button, button downs, next to a wagon wheel of ties next to...Anyway, you won't see much '70s Polly and Esther -- The bane fabric of any Trad vintage fanatic.

SC&SC is a source. What you see at Rugby, Crew & Hilfiger... it all came from here. How do I know? I haven't met a designer yet that was in the Army, Forest Service or Rodeo. This is where they come to learn and so can you.

It's half-time...

I liked the game but I liked this even more.

I used to know them.

The Family Portrait, 1988

Like many military brats -- when it was time to settle down -- it was time to find the settled. A good looking crowd -- My ex-wife's family. Third generation Chicago North Shore. The wedding photographer announced the family picture and as my new Irish Catholic relations came from every direction a guest laughed, "When does Rose Kennedy roll out in her wheel chair?"

I didn't think of looking for a family to go with my wife. That wasn't my intent. With hindsight, it's easy to see how I embraced them and became a Chicagoan in short order. Much like moving in the Army - - You quickly absorb everything in your new surroundings or you're screwed.

I was married for 13 years... to my wife and to these people. I loved them very much but after the divorce, except for four people, I never saw or heard from any of them again. In all fairness -- I never reached out. I wasn't sure how. They may have had the same problem with me.

A friend is going through a divorce and I think how sad it is to not only lose your spouse, but their family as well. I lost so many friends in the Army after only knowing them for a year or two. It's inconceivable to me to lose people you know for 13 years. When asked if I knew someone in this picture... I said, "I used to."

Mining The Vintage Vein - Part I

Details on the who, what and where next week.

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

Italian Why Nots

"With Italian Fashion, sometimes you just have to say, "Why not?"...Making sure no one can answer, "Here's why not." Robert Bryan