"...who screws around on you all the time"

Street fairs are usually street fairs. That is, it falls under my heading of an, 'F.P.E.' or Free Public Event and is to be avoided at all costs - - unless you're in desperate need of a pashmina scarf in July.

I thought the NY Bastille Day fair would be different. It was, in that Pashmina scarves were replaced with I don't how many crepe vendors. That and a fire broke out in a parking garage where a palpable panic broke out among tourists contrasted with native New Yorker's rubber necking.

Fleeing west, I was stopped by the most beautiful car in the world. The Citroen SM. The 2CV is too 2. The Traction Avant is too '30s and the DS is too damned much money, but I've had a thing for the SM since high school.

I was lured into buying one for 'a train car' in the suburbs of Chicago. White with a maroon velour interior, it was $6,000 at North Shore Imports. I was introduced to the mechanic who told me the French threw everything about cars out the window and did it their way.

I was reminded of a retirement party for a United pilot who told me he owned a Ferrari in the mid-60s. I asked what that was like. He told me it was like being married to the most beautiful woman in the world -- who screwed around on you all the time.

But the SM is beautiful.

There's a charm and soul to these cars I really connect to. The mechanic also told me the car I was looking at had been sold five times in the last couple of years.

Hairs raised on the back of my neck along with palpable panic.

I adore this door handle even though I have no clue why

Maybe it's just French.

This car has a cassette player. I'm thinking Francoise Hardy.

I would love to wash this car. Naked.

You can crack this vent open for the Gitanes smoke

I was always attracted to crazy girls when I was young, but I didn't need a mechanic.


Still, like knowing you can get a haircut in NYC at 4AM, it's nice to know this is available.

A Sweatshirt of a Certain Age

I've dragged this hooded sweat shirt around since 1985. I haven't been able to wear it since 1992. It's not that I've gained weight. I have. And like the weight I've packed on -- this sweatshirt is witness to years of change -- In myself and in my closet.

I wore this sweatshirt on a date in Philadelphia one night. Under a leather flight jacket with skin tight 501s and Timberland work boots. I complained to my date, later my wife, later my ex-wife, that I had been hit on by two gay men on my way to pick her up. She looked me up and down, arched an eyebrow and said, "Maybe it's the way you're dressing."

A lotta oxford has flowed through the closet since 1986. What I swore I would never wear: bow ties, double breasted blazers, suede shoes, club collars...not only reside in my closet but fit as well. My sweatshirt looks on. No longer worn. Not because it's too small, but because it isn't who I am anymore. A medium.

My Norge Homies: Moods of Norway

I really like this line created by Moods of Norway. They nail color with a wit and humor that makes me proud of my Norwegian roots. My family is from a town called Tynset, whose name my great grandfather anglicized and took for his own when he settled in Duluth. It never fails to amaze me why so many Norwegians immigrated to Duluth when Florida was available.



I showed up at a penthouse owned by the Norwegian consulate. In all honesty, I was a lot more interested in seeing the Penthouse.



But Moods of Norway won me over starting with this light Summer sweater. Who's gonna wear a sweater this Summer in NYC is another question but it should rock their world in Duluth.



Victor Skepp is head of sales and he tells me the line is popular with bands. I can see that. They don't have a store in NY yet but work outta their flagship in Los Angeles. I don't like Los Angeles but it's gotta better than Duluth.



This is a three piece suit in blue plaid. Not for the weak of heart but I think Paul Weller could pull it off.



There's some, okay, there's a lot of gimmick going on but it's all in good taste. Mostly.



I doubt this but they swear it's true.



They're big on tractors in Norway. I didn't know that. There's a lot of things I don't know about Norway or Duluth. And I'm okay with that.



I guess the hang tag tells the story. Although, I read somewhere that if clothing depends on a hang tag telling a story ... you're in deep herring.



Here's a shirt sleeve with a turn back cuff. Not to my liking but you might find it awesome.



This would be perfectly acceptable in a place of business. And that tractor is growing on me.



The lack of pretense is refreshing. My dad tells me Duluth isn't so refreshing. He told me when he was a kid his pee froze before it hit the ground.


And in the Summer the mosquitoes were so big they had landing lights.



I have to get to Duluth someday. And to Tynset too. Until then, I'm happy to see the Norwegians breaking into the NYC fashion scene. Uff da, baby!


Here's Stefan Dahlkvist, co founder and Victor Skepp. You can't get more Duluth looking than these guys.

David Chu Bespoke

It is not lost on me -- not for a second -- that while preparing for the exterior shots of David Chu's mid-19th century townhouse--I moved two bags of garbage out front to 'clean up' the view. This house does that. You feel you must contribute something to its elegance.





I lured Alice Olive into shooting this post by showing her photos (seen here) I had taken of the staircase. We were told by our host, Fabrizio Volterra, Managing Director of David Chu Bespoke, that while the house had a major restoration the staircase looks much like it did in 1850.




Starting at $125, the pocket square, or 'pochette' speaks to the heart of what David Chu Bespoke is all about. Fastidious attention in the smallest of creative details and sartorial history to back it up. Mr Volterra explains the inspiration of this hand framed tartan trim comes from the 18th Century French maker, Simonnot Godard (seen here). Other trim? Think: Madras, rep stripes, BB#1, batik, surcingle, Souleiado...Just about anything except Vineyard Vines.





I'm not sure a rumpled old fat man like myself can pull off a custom tie with an embroidered ships wheel hand sewn on a horizontal bias tie, but I think it screams youth and fun. If I were 33 again...I'd own this tie. Perfect for a Summer night on Eataly's new roof top bar. Trust me, $160 is a small price to pay for a tie that could do a lot of talking for you. Unlined 12 folds are $250 and Seven Folds are $175.




Stepping into custom shirting is a selfish rite of passage for any man. Picking your own fabric, collar and cuffs and coughing up the minimum of three or six or whatever...while your wife juggles the bills and the kids...Hey! Forget her. You. Deserve. It.

Chu Bespoke requires a minimum order of one. Here's a hand made Neapolitan voile so thin and airy it needs a lining to hide your chest hair. If you're like me and don't have any chest hair you can knock $50 off the $500. Hand sewn everything including the shirt maker's name and date of establishment on a side gusset. The 'Pettegola' keeps the voile tucked in. Italian for 'gossiping women' the pettegola affords any man a unique one upmanship when it comes to strolling around the Union League's locker room in your shirt and boxers. Charvet doesn't stand a chance.





The sleeves are hand shirred to the shoulders creating little pleats, a lot of comfort and even more history. The Spanish brought this shoulder pleating to Italy in the 18th Century via Spain's military shirt. In short, it's not a shirt as much as a piece of hand made art.

Where will you ever find an 18th Century Italian painting for $500? That does double duty? That has a lining and a pettegola? These are the things to tell your wife after she finds the bill and calls you a selfish bastard.





I'm not sure why this does not look like a waiter's uniform. Maybe it's the richness of the material. Cashmere and linen. Maybe it's the cut. A double breasted drape that would easily fit into Savile Row. There's formality here but also a relaxed aesthetic that's grown up, well off, and ready for a candle lit dinner on a restaurant terrace in Gubbio on a hot July night. MTM - $2,250. Bespoke-$3,350.





The shoes Chu Bespoke offers are Italian and hand welted and colored. MTM is $2,300 and Bespoke are $3,400. Allow 13-15 weeks. Are you adding this up?





It's hard to take all this in on one visit.





And nothing your average, more-money-than-God New Yorker, might need hasn't been thought of.




And the space -- the wrapper all of this is covered in never lets up for a second.





It's not old money and I wouldn't call it new money.





Maybe it's just money well spent.





The Bespoke suit for $4,500 is an incredible value.





House style is English drape which the Italians stole from the British and have been selling back to them going on sixty years.





Sewn by hand.




Fabrizio Volterra, shown above, is your guide. He has amazing insight, not just in the making and the style, but in the history as well. His eye will become your eye as he rolls out more and more creations of his own.





A simple white polo shirt, from the image of Gianni Agnelli above, becomes other worldly when Fabrizio knocks it off ... by hand. $350





A bespoke umbrella. You choose the dimensions, wood and design. $300 That's another pocket square hand sewn in tartan trim and the only case where I can see a man matching it to his tie. $100




Alice likes cats. I like terraces.



All photos by Alice Olive for The Trad (click on image to enlarge)

David Chu Bespoke, 25 East 22nd Street, NYC, NY 10010 (646) 723 8712

Ah, Chu!

Photo by Alice Olive

Tomorrow, a tour of David Chu Bespoke, Neapolitan style and 'Pettegola.' Ciao, Tony...

Boom...

July 4th, 2011 @ 9:22 PM - New York City

Happy Fourth

Flickr

Independence Eve

Natty Light & Cheeseburger for Uncle Sam Tonight

On a Road: Onwentsia - 1988

July 2, 1988 @ 3:56 PM Lake Forest, IL

It was a place I didn't know. The Midwest. Chicago. The North Shore. Lake Forest. Onwentsia Road. I ran in the morning before my wedding. Red and black running shorts the color of a WW I Fokker. Cut off arms of a size too large white Lacoste. I ran toward the lake. Already warm but without humidity. Crisp, clean and bright.

Lake Forest was stuffed with giant houses and English gardens, but Buicks were parked in the driveways. A simple Midwest that loved to laugh but could barely stand to part with $5 for a pair of socks. The Mercedes and Ferrari dealership never saw the life-long residents I knew. Even Don's Foods was the playground of the new rich while common sense and coupons dictated Sunset Foods to my new in-laws.

The Northwestern Metra filled in for the second car to a city 45 minutes away. A 1BR condo at 910 North Michigan was $30,000 whike the exodus to the suburbs was in high swing. The bars near Wrigley were simple and cheap. No one cared what you did or who you were. They only cared if you were gonna buy 'em an Old Style. This picture, taken at 3:56 PM on July 2nd in 1988, was the start of it.

Off My Back: The Airmail Shirt

Lighter than airmail


Should always be rolled up


A love of buttons


Who doesn't like rabbits?

Back in the late '80s and early '90s my A.O. (Area of Operations for the civilians) in Manhattan was bordered by the Algonquin Hotel to the west and Brooks Brothers to the east. All I needed fell into that two block perimeter. Chipp. J Press. Brooks. JR Cigar. Mr Hoy at the Algonquin Bar. It was a target rich environment for a salesman from Chicago and easy on the shoe leather.

Today, as a resident of Manhattan, my favored A.O. is a perimeter down Lexington Avenue bordered by my barber, Paul Mole at 74th Street (ask for Gary the Russian) to the north and Garnet Wines at 68th Street to the south (where there's a stunning blonde who really knows her Bordeaux and Burgundy). Peter (hold 'em up) Elliot. R.O.P. infested Swifty's. J. McLaughlin. Neils Coffee Shop. Lexington Bar and Book. And a favorite, Roberta Roller Rabbit.

I picked up this RRR shirt last year thinking it screamed Independence. Hand blocked and dried in the sun, it's lighter than the airmail envelopes I remember from the '60s. Same color theme too. Break out the white shorts and boat shoes-- Hard to go wrong. $85 and unique to boot. There's not a lot for men but what there is should meet your sartorial mission for Summer. Avoidance of VV. Their web site is here.

The Bachelor Party

(L to R) Wild East, Foosko & Sgt Nick Penis - Deer Path Inn 30 June 1988

23 years ago tonight some old friends, relatives and in-laws gathered at the Lantern in Lake Forest for my low key bachelor party. The image above is of the 'After Party' complete with Pabst Blue Ribbon. Amazing how hip we were and didn't even know it.

One of my friends asked my father that night what his experience in Vietnam was like. Dad shrugged and said there wasn't much to tell. Everyone nodded and the conversation moved
quickly to the Cubs and the merits of Old Style. The night winds down as in-laws leave but old friends wanna go all night.

Wild East and Foosko. decide to reenact Lobby East dorm life with a purchase of the cheapest beer available. Army buddy and Chicago local, SgtNick Penis comes along for the ride. Sadly, Red, White and Blue is not available so two sick packs of PBR go from the Lantern to the Deer Path Inn only four blocks and a low crawl away.

A month or so later the old man is visting D.C. and offers dinner at his favorite French restaurant in Old Town Alexandria. My bride asks Dad, in a break after escargot en croute but before steak au poivre, what it was exactly he did in Vietnam. Dad sips his Beefeater martini and tells my wife it was just like the mafia. "They'd come down to the village. Kill some locals. We'd go up the mountain and kill some of them."

While the rules of time, place and occasion are invaluable for apparel -- there is some wisdom in applying the rule to story telling. You don't wear a white dinner jacket to a bachelor party nor should fatigues be worn in French restaurants.