The Navy Blazer

I own eight blazers. But this one...this one is my favorite. About four years ago - - maybe five. I saw a blazer much like this one. Unique in that it had hacking pockets with a ticket pocket. Not so unique in that it was single breasted. But unique, especially for a Yank, that it was double vented as opposed to the much more common single or center vent. By the way, I saw it in the window of Hackett near Lime St. A store I continue to love.

Upon my return to the states, I mentioned this unique blazer to some folks on a forum. I was pounced upon from all directions. The Trads hated it. "Not Trad at all!" "Must have center vent!" "Hacking pockets are not Trad!" The non-Trads didn't yell but calmly explained, "The blazer's origins are naval. While side vents are acceptable - -hacking pockets-- which derive from equestrian riding jackets--do not belong on a blazer. "

I posed the question to Jeremy Hackett, the owner of Hackett and someone whom I've always considered a Trad. Never heard back from him. Busy guy, what with his new book and all. By the way, "Mr Classic Jeremy Hackett" is a great book. I found it used at the Strand so it was a no brainer. A year or two goes by and I'm back in London sniffing around the summer sales on Jermyn St when I see it in the Turnbull & Asser window. A Navy blazer with hacking pockets. Only 850 pounds. Son of a ... I like it but not that much.

Couple more years go by and I wander into Turnbull and Asser on 57th St. And there it is. The navy blazer with hacking pockets. There's only one. It's my size. I throw it on and I'm looking at myself in the mirror. The salesman nods in approval. "That's not bad. Not bad at all." I ask, "How much?" "Three hundred but I'll see if I can get it knocked down to two fifty." He leaves me at the mirror and smile at my reflection. "TinTin, you magnificent bastard."

They knocked it down to $250. Pretty much threw a garbage bag over it with a plastic hanger but for two-fiddy who cares. Now that I own a navy blazer with hacking pockets I must re-visit the question. I email Jeremy Hackett again on his web site http://www.hackett.com/index.cfm?page=1016. I write, " I have been told due to the naval tradition of navy blazers, hacking pockets are a big no-no. Yet it looks great. What to do?" I guess since the book's been out he's not that busy anymore and he writes back, " Traditionally that would be correct, but unless you are a naval man then quite frankly I don't think it matters and I agree with you I think it would look great and a little bit rakish. Best wishes, Jeremy." Cheers to you, Jerry. There you have it. And now I have it. After almost five years.

The Trad Color Wheel

I have always enjoyed color. When I was 16, I developed my first roll of color slide film and was in awe of the images as I unrolled the film off the development tank reel. Everything had been black and white before. Suddenly, it was a new world. Cibachrome, Ektachrome, Fujichrome...and primary colors were my target.

Those primary colors have stayed with me a long time. The shirt and bow tie pictured here would never be considered Trad by some. Or many. I think it is. Despite the double cuff, elegant collar and British origins of this kit - - It is Trad. Why? Because it has soul. In a world where I can't tell fabric softener commercials from the ones for toilet paper; I revell in color and design and history that speaks to me. The challenge, as any Trad knows, is to do it without paying full freight.

Those enamled cuff links were stolen at an auction in Philadelphia. A city where even the gay men dress poorly. The shirt was stolen at a Turnbull & Asser sale and the bow tie was found at Filenes for $9.99. Kodachrome 25 was always a mother to shoot. But the color was vivid and deep. One good exposure out of 35 bad ones was not only acceptable... it was reason to celebrate. In some odd way, I connect my love of photography and images to the colors I wear. It's shallow. It's vain. But it's the most fun you can have - - with your clothes on.

The Trad Mocc

I see a lot of things in my mind's eye when I look at these shoes. Crew cuts and black plastic frame glasses. Martin Milner in Route 66. Pegged khakis with white socks and a short sleeve Madras pop-over. Beer cans with two triangular holes on the top. Bermuda shorts with a starched white button down shirt worn untucked. Rangefinders. A 101 Land Camera. Narrow ties.

In 1965, Florsheim introduced the Yuma. A plain vamp moccasin hand sewn in the Chicago factory. I'm pretty sure Trad Dad owned a pair. As mentioned before, he was fond of short sleeve bleeding madras and chinos in the summer. Grey trousers, v-neck sweaters and white or blue button downs in the winter. Not bad for an Army officer where his counterpart dressed in hi -water Sansabelts from the PX. I remember a black pair of Yumas with his deeply cuffed grey trousers.

While I prefer the Yuma in black, it was re-released in 1997 or '98 as a "Royal Imperial" model in authentic cordovan for around $400. Talk about Trad. The manager of the NYC Florsheim at 49th and Madison told me they used a cordovan from a French tannery until it went out of business adding they were one of his biggest sellers. He never understood why the non-cordovan shoes were discontinued. I told him these decisions were usually made by some asshole with an accounting degree. He nodded.

Now...for some good news. I saw the Yuma in the June issue of, "Last." A Japanese magazine one might refer to as Shoe Porn and the lovely Kikuko at Brooks Brothers on Madison translated for me. The Yuma is to be reintroduced this fall. It will no longer be made in Chicago but that's okay. It should be cheap. If only they would do it in a Horween cordovan, the last cordovan tannery in the US. I'd ebay those Lobbs in a heartbeat.

Trad Herring

I stopped by J Press and was shooting the crap with David Wilder when he mentioned Dutch Herring Week at the Oyster Bar in Grand Central. I grabbed my order from David and made a bee line for Grand Central. And what a lunch it was.

Dutch Herring is offered only one week a year in NYC and it's not bad. The Dutch Gin served iced cold in a cordial glass helps give it that certain flavor I find in Scandinavian foods. Maybe it's connecting with my Norwegian genes but it's a taste I'm crazy about. Fish and Gin. Simple, clean and true. Kinda like licking pine sap in the winter.

You only get two filets of herring so you're gonna need something else. I went with the oysters. Half a dozen large blue points and half a dozen small. I'm comfortable with slurping down normal sized oysters but the large ones are a challenge. In fact, the first one didn't make it and fell onto my plate of ice. It was noticed as well. Never a good thing in an Oyster Bar.

I finished up the plate of oysters and sat for a while. I've always enjoyed the Oyster Bar. The sounds and the ceiling. The tourists and the business men. The old men in their poplin and seersucker suits. It's so New York. Where else in this country do you see a week devoted to Herring?

More "M" for Jam

When Jam Good tells you to do something...you do it. Jam is a poster on Ask Andy and one of the most amazing resources of men's Traditional clothing I've ever come across. Jam asked that I post some more from "M" The Civilized Man. Jam, I'm sitting in an airport after a triple Americano with my knee bouncing to King Sunny Ade and the above is all I have left from my scans. But this is for you, sir.

I promise more when I get back to my scanner. Above is a nice winter Glenn Plaid from Paul Stuart. This was from an issue in 1985. Isn't it great? Why women allow themselves to be pushed around by designers and fashion speaks to a whole host of issues I'll refrain from... seeing I'm getting on a plane in an hour and there's a nasty Florida thunderstorm raging and I need all the good Karma I can get. Glenn Plaid was in style in 1985, 1935 and certainly today. Maybe even 20 years from now. Who knows. I know this. Jam Good knows more about this fabric, cut, model, photographer, ad agency and suit than I'll ever know. Is the suit Trad? Good Lord, no. With that haircut and all those pleats and darts. No, not Trad. But it's "M" so who cares.

Trad vs John Lobb Paris

Yes, that's my dirty laundry. The point is to contrast the classic nature of oxford cloth and madras against some pretty wacky shoes from John Lobb. Known as the Foxton, I found these on sale. Tried them on and they fit. I told the salesman, "You know, I can see the quality. The leather is beautiful. But they're so ugly." He knocked off 30%. I passed.

I walked around. He followed me. "You know, I can knock off another 15%." He set the hook. Not that this guy looked like he did a lot of fishing. So, I own these shoes. I've studied them. Researched them (2006 model from Lobb's Prestige line). And I still don't know. Will you help me? Should I ebay these or keep them?

I have two other pair of Lobbs. The cap toe and Monk strap. They're black. They're conservative. I love'em. But these...

M The Civilized Man

I have to admit...I was obsessed by this magazine. "M" A Civilized Man, was unique. It wasn't GQ. Which in the late 70's and through the 80's was sooo gay. If you picked up a copy of GQ at a newstand, you were telling whoever was standing next to you, you were gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Esquire, save an issue or two or three a year, was just plain boring. Some amazing covers but inside the copy was as dull as the layout. Playboy was a joke. Not even close to what it was in the 60's. Buffed and waxed women who, like the cartoons, looked the same. Probably didn't help that Playboy was in very deep financial trouble.

Penthouse was always way out there. Early in it's life some great articles on food, wine and clothing were put into each issue. I'm thinking late 60s early 70s. Then Bob took off with film production and some fairly "organic" models. Often European. Always earthy. I was a fan. But there was nothing about clothes or cheese or how to make a Martini. Bob was focused, like a laser, on long legged, exotic, medium breasted girls from Paris who could do some amazing things with La Perla. And for that, I am forever grateful.

"M" didn't have naked women but it had everything else I wanted. Great covers with some beautiful graphic design and layouts. Some interesting stories but the clothes were to die for. Classic American for me and European for the straight fan of GQ. I'm not sure why they didn't make it.

The Offical Filthy Rich Handbook

A good example of "Wally Mail" came today...although no interview with the author. Instead, a Press Kit came with the book. And what a book it is. Just flipping through the Preppy Handbook - like chapters is a kick. Sub-titled, "How The Other 0001% Lives" Christopher Tennant points out that money is not the solution to all of our problems and quotes Dorothy Parker, "If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to."

I do have issue with the WASP chart seen above. Pretty pedestrian kit is cited. If I had this kind of money? I'd start with: J Press boxers would be Charvet made from their shirting fabric. Smather's & Branson needlepoint belt should be one your wife made for you while vacationing in Lucca for three months. Stubbs & Wootton needlepoint slippers? They're known in the trade as being overpriced for what they are. I learned something working with the high-net-worth; They ain't cheap but they expect a good value. I suspect Edward Green or George Cleverley would be the appropriate vendor for a slipper. And they're a short walk from Claridges. A good thing.

I had a client with an amazing wine cellar. 8,000 bottles of which it was my job to insure. While we shuffled through the dark cave and he pointed out an 1855 Madeira and 30 bottles of Screaming Eagle, I asked him what was drinking well. He told me he didn't drink. Never had. "Your wife?" I asked. ""Good lord, no." He said. "We're Jewish. Never picked up a taste for it." I thought it might make sense to remind him his insurance broker was a goy who drank anything put in front of him. But I thought better of it and followed him up the stairs taking a loving glance back at show and tell.

All in all, the book looks to be a hoot. And something you can get through in a night or a couple of days if you prefer to read in the smallest room in the house. You'll have to finish this fast for lingering on the untra wealthy gets old very fast.

The Best Chinos

I recently found these trousers and I gotta tell you...they are something else. As close to the US Army Khaki as I've ever seen. Straight leg with flat front. Close attention to detail with the watch pocket as well as the belt loops. Very accurate to Army issue. Even the buttons...while not perfect come very close. I'll replace them with my old buttons. Cut from a hefty, 9.6 ounce cotton. They're the real deal.

Made by Polo. In China.

I kid you not. They're the best damned khakis I've ever owned. And they'll be perfect when I replace those buttons with the real McCoy. Better than Bills. Better than Bean, Brooks, Press, Duck Head, Land's End...Better than Uncle Sam. They list for $98 but you can find 'em for $39...if you look hard. They're not everywhere but as you run your hand across the countless cheap chinos hanging from a rack be prepared for something that doesn't feel right. That's what you're looking for. Substance. Heft. Quality.

A quick note. They're described on the tag as, "Polo GI Pant" which I have no issue with. No insignia. No problem. However, the description says, "...inspired by WWI military surplus garments." What are you guys smoking over there? The US Army chino came outta WWII. God's in the details. Still, they're damned good.

Southwick Ad from 1985

From M Magazine. I was always taken with Southwick's advertising. If anyone knows who the photographer was please clue me in. Isn't this guy great? Look at that nose. Such a craggy face with the aroma of Guiness and Single Malt wafting from his pores. The Meerschaum pipe just over the knee with that olive wide wale cord looks right at home.

This was an ad for "Terrier Cloth." That looks like an Irish Terrier. Whoever did this ad must have had a great time. It's so evocative and mood setting. It may be hard to tell on the post but that's a Blackwatch Plaid Sport Jacket. For years, I thought it was a Blue Blazer. It's so dark it looks solid. The tie and the shirt and the pocket square? Beautiful pairing. The pocket square is normal, low key and not foppish at all. The cuffs of the shirt lead me to believe it's Brooks Brothers as does that perfect roll. Who knows. I've seen the tie before but can't place it. Maybe Herzfeld. Maybe Polo.

Lastly, the blazer patch. This one has two crossed rifles with any Latin tactfully hidden from the camera. I have a blazer patch from the Canadian Airborne. I went to Jump School in Edmonton and was awarded Canadian Jump Wings as part of a Soldier Exchange program. I've worn it only once. On a Double Breasted Blazer with an ascot. I felt like an asshole. Looked like an asshole. Was an asshole. Never wore the blazer patch again. Maybe when I'm this man's age. I'll tell you one thing. When I do go grey... I'm growing that exact moustache.

18th Century Trad

To hell with the 1950s and 1960s. I'm talking the 1780s, baby.

Valley Forge around 1985. Park Rangers usually have to get up in this stuff called living history on summer weekends. Actually, it was a lot of fun. Having pizza delivered while in encampment. Tooling around on my motorcycle in this Dragoon uniform was always a thrill. Lots of questions: "Isn't that hot?" always topped the list. George McGovern asked me a great question about the interior paint at Washington's Headquarters. We had a nice but brief discussion. Later, I mentioned how impressed I was with Senator McGovern's knowledge of history to the guy on the right in this picture. He said something like, "Yeah, he has a Ph.D in history from Northwestern you moron."

So what's this have to do with Trad?

In the 18th century, common dress for man was great coat, breeches, waistcoat, stockings and a linen blouse. Oh, and a cravat, stockings, hat and shoes. By the early 19th century, younger men were wearing trousers and pissing off the older farts who continued to wear breeches...until they died and the wearing of breeches died with them. From that time, 1820 or so...we have evolved to this amazing but not surprising statistic. According to Brian Williams (who's looking an awful lot like Ed Burns lately), 6% of men today wear a tie to work.

So, can the children of this flip flop & tee shirt generation evolve into a more relaxed attire? Maybe. Or, they could revolt and take us back to some sort of formality. Maybe the kids'll take it back to the 18th Century?

It was a great look on Paul Reverve and the Raiders. And very comfortable. Not hot at all. The linen blouse gets wet as you sweat and since the great coat is wool, it breathes, cooling you off in a very natural way. If I went into air conditioning and took the great coat off, I'd freeze. I think the attire could make economic sense seeing what the cost of energy will be in 50 or so years. Just don't wear boxers with breeches.

Or, if fashion stays on track, our grand kids will be walking to work barefoot in their underwear wearing a fanny pack. I'm betting people will be in much better shape.

Ralph Lauren Marine Corps

Semper Fi, Ralph.

Trad Noir

I have an old friend who writes crime fiction. He also works for a newspaper. And he doesn't know a 7.62mm from a 5.56mm but he's a much better writer than I am. For years Wally has turned me onto some great books and some strange music. I'll save the music for another time but check his blog out here http://www.wallacestrobycom.blogspot.com/.

This book is outta print. Published in 1967, I can just see Trad Dad reading this in the Team House bunker as he sips at his can of Ballantine and flicks the ash off a hot boxed Marlboro.

In addition to being a brilliant writer...Wally or Wild East as he is known in some circles, really knows writers. He's interviewed lots of living ones and knows everything there is to know about a lot of dead ones. You could say it's his passion. He'll send me an interview on tape with a writer and the writer's new book. I call this "Wally Mail."

I thought it made sense to share this recommendation from Wally. It has one of those opening lines that grabs you right in the button fly area of your plain front khakis.

"Parker spent two weeks on the white sand beach at Biloxi, and on a white sandy bitch named Belle, but he was restless, and one day without thinking about it he checked out and sent a forwarding address to Handy McKay and moved on to New Orleans."

I spent four weeks in Biloxi and would have killed for a white sandy bitch but I sure as hell never thought of putting one in a sentence. Not like that one.

-30-

Trad Memorial Day

Two great views. One outside and one inside.

The outside view: What's that old saying? Oh, yeah. "What do you call two boats on the water? A race." So, we had a race over the weekend. Lots of tacking and scrambling around on the deck. A beer. Sit on the bow. A beer. The captain thought beer kept his crew from getting nervous. Hence, the offer for a beer was stated as, "You nervous?" I answer, "Uh, yeah." And suddenly there's a cold beer in your hand. Lots to be nervous about in a boat race.

The inside view: That's the club house. They call it a Yacht Club but who's kidding who. We amble to the bar. And just as I'm ready to order another "nervous" I see a six pack of Barritts Ginger Beer. "Holy Crud!" I lean over to the bartender. "You have any Goslings Black Seal Rum?" He holds his arms out like he's Jesus and says, "Of course. Although some people like the Barritts with Mt Gay Rum." I reply, "They're philistines." We had a number of Dark & Stormies (Barrits and Goslings with lime). We won our class. And I calmed down.

Trad Art

The very best Trad Art is - - Well, I once heard it perfectly described as, "It don't cost nothin'. " Yes, indeed. That would mean a friend or family member did it. By did it - - I don't mean they bought it. I mean they made it. We start with my Trad Dad and his oil painting with firecrackers. Brilliant.

I watched him as he did the painting above and numerous others. He'd take a long string of firecrackers and squeeze tubes of different color paint down the length. Tack the firecrackers under the seat of an old bar stool. Prop the canvas in front of it. Throw an old piece of carpet over the whole production. Reach under the carpet with his Ronson cigarette lighter that was engraved with, "Fuck Communism" (long story) and light the fuse. And there it is. Not bad at all.

When I lived in Chicago, I could've thrown a shoe out of my apartment window and hit 22 bars and restaurants that would've have paid a fortune for this. Or, I could have had an open tab for a month. Same thing. I'm not sure if I have it right side up. I'd ask my Dad but I don't think he knows either.

Trad Orange & Green

Summer is about color. So is Fall, Winter and Spring but this is when you can knock it out of the park. Which reminds me...I work in sales and every manager I've ever had (except for a woman) used horrible sport metaphors (like, knock it out of the park) in order to motivate me so I could pay their mortgage. I'm not going there today. Maybe some other time.

I love Orange and Green. I must admit, I never gave it much thought until I saw, "The Tall Guy." Emma Thompson (hubba - hubba) played a nurse who was in a relationship with Jeff Goldblum. I think I speak for every woman in the world (or those whom I've dated), that Jeff is a creepy guy. Maybe. But I liked him in this off beat British comedy. Any screen writer who manages to insert a musical based on the Elephant Man is a genius in my book.

So, Emma tells Jeff on his first visit to her place, that her favourite colours are Orange and Green. You know, in that wonderful, clipped accent of hers. And then they have wild sex. That scene alone is worth the purchase of this movie. As I watch them having wild sex...I thought about the colors of Orange and Green. I think about colors at church. In meetings. Stuck in traffic. Anytime I'm really bored. Not that I was bored with the sex scene. It's pretty easy to follow.

Next comes the clothes hunt. Long story short... I have three orange shirts (two stripes and one check) and half a dozen green ties. What can I say, The Tall Guy was a long time ago. I bring this up for one major reason. Pink and Green. It's such a cliche now. Like owning a Lab and a Jeep in Lake Forest. Try out Orange and Green. Goes great with a Blue Blazer and khakis...even better, with white ducks and white (banged up) bucks. I'm not a big fan of the pocket square but if you are...leave it at home. This speaks pretty loudly. No reason to fop it up.

Trad Crab

Crab cakes and white wine. How's that for not burying the lead? But the details are very important. It must be the right crab. And that is becoming an issue. Fresh and hand picked, Jumbo Lump is getting expensive. But once you've tasted it - - nothing else will do. $32 a pound. If you can find it. Not as good as it was but better than it will be. NAG-AIW-BBT-IWB (TM).

Just a few years ago the season for crab (now) was met with these beautiful, clear containers nestled in chunks of ice. Oh, what a site they were. Some Old Bay Crab seasoning and a little mayo and you had a ticket to Nirvana. But it gets better.

Chassagne Montrachet figures into this in a big way. A white Burgundy that must have been created by God to pair with crab cakes. "Okay, I just created the crab." God wipes his hands. "Now, is'a time (I always think of God as an Italian) for the perfect a'wine to go with them." Poof! Chassagne Montrachet. God takes a bite of crab cake, "Oooo, thas'a nice. Nutty, clean, I taste'a the sea." God swirls his wine glass - - sniffs and takes a sip. "Oh, my God! Wait a minute. I am'a God." God takes another sip. This one is a little longer. God sighs and says, "Damn, I'm a good."

Chalk up another one for God.

We live in a world of entitlement. Every once in a while God slaps me upside my head and I remember to be grateful. Granted, this ain't cheap grateful. All in, we're talking a hundred bucks or so. But if you've lived in Nebraska your whole life...you probably don't know what I'm talking about. God would be upset about that.

Pickers, the people who do the very hard work of picking crabs have always been hard to find. They're getting even harder to find. Gas, which is getting more expensive, keeps fisherman from fishing. If you're not grateful now for this experience - - you will be in a year or two- - 'cause it may be gone. Pasteurized crab from Vietnam and Thailand will be our options. And God will not like that one'a bit.

Ralph Lauren and the US Army

I came across these shorts in Florida. Now, I don't want to beat a dead horse but what is happening at Polo? I love their Madras shorts. I'm the proud owner of three Purple Label suits. If it wasn't for Polo a lot of wonderful Trad clothing would disappear. However, what is their obsession with Military inspired clothing during a war? Some designer has decided to take The Old Guard patch and sew it on the posterior of a pair of "Emergency Sustenance" shorts.

Who is the Old Guard? Ever see the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier? That's the Old Guard. The Old Guard buried my Grandfather at Arlington National Cemetery. Is this some one's idea of a joke? I'm a pretty liberal guy. Never voted Republican. Hell, I've worked on two Democratic campaigns but I'm not taking this crap anymore.

I have to assume since the people who serve in the military would never wind up a designer at Polo that some idiot did this while flipping through a book of unit patches and thought, "Wow, cool patch."

It's not just Polo. Someone out there saw the XVIII Airborne Corps unit patch and decided that it looked cool. They've sewn it on the right shoulder of a "puffer" coat. A unit patch on the right shoulder has some pretty heady meaning in the Army. It's the unit you served in combat with. I saw this coat at the corner of 57th Street and 2nd Avenue a couple months ago. I was with the girlfriend when I approached the young man wearing my old unit patch to ask him when he was in XVIII Airborne Corps. The girlfriend tugs at my arm and says, "Please don't." I replied, "What?" She says, "I know what you're going to do and I beg you...please don't. Not here."

So I didn't. But I'm gonna start. Fair warning to those of you who wear this shit.

Happy Mother's Day

I do have an issue with those sunglasses but what are ya gonna do. It was the 70's and Montreal. I bought my first Playboy there at age 12. But that's another story. Happy Mother's Day to all the moms. Trad and not.

The Trad Woman

C.Z. Guest circa 1956. Man- O- Manischewitz. No dyed hair and nail extensions here.

Years ago in Manhattan (I should rename this blog, Remembering the 80's), I was walking with a friend and as we approached the Sherry Netherland Hotel I saw a woman exiting the lobby with the doorman leading and hailing a cab.

We were next to her when the doorman opened the taxi door. I'm pretty sure it was a Checker. Mid 50's in a Chanel suit with a short skirt. Hermes scarf. Her hair was up. Beautiful legs and the same face as C.Z. but just a little older. Walking by, I took off my Ray Ban Aviators, looked her in the eye and said, "I think I'm in love." She smiled at me and said, "I'd break your heart." She got in the cab and as the doorman closed the taxi door he looked at me and laughed...that NY kind of laugh. Like New Yorkers laugh when they see someone slip and fall on ice or fail as a hedge fund manager. You know what it sounds like.

Fast forward a lot of years to the Winterthur Museum in Delaware. I'm in a class on early 19th Century furniture with the "then" wife. She had a thing for the Federal Period. I was always fond of the late 18th Century but that's another story. Has anyone figured out I use a template for writing these posts? No? Anyway, things were not the best between us then despite 13 years of trying and earlier in the day she commented that I would wind up with a wife in her mid to late 20s pushing a baby carriage in Lincoln Park and looking like all those other old farts in their 40's doing the second go around.

In the front of the class are two older women (mid50's) wearing embroidered slippers. One with Napoleon Bees and I can't remember what was on the other pair. The one with the Bees's, a perky blonde with a Bob'ed cut and a starched Brooks Brother's stripe OCBD-- unbuttoned one button too far says, "How will humidity affect the veneer of say, tiger stripe maple in a climate like Palm Beach?"

I leaned over to my then wife and whispered, "Don't sweat the 25 year olds. That..." I pointed to the Bees, "is what you need to worry about."

"The" Trad Catalog

Some months ago I discussed these very catalogs with a senior type from Press. He said they had found tons of them during the recent move from 44th St. I said, "You should gather them all up and publish them in a book. Same size as the catalog. Soft cover. It would sell like crazy." He looked at the floor and shrugged his shoulders. Couldn't be less interested. What was it Butch told Sundance? "I got 20/20 vision and the rest of the world wears bifocals."

These are from a great blog, The Continuous Lean. Go check it out. Some fascinating Charlie Rose interviews with Micky Drexler and Alan Flusser plus other Tradly items and pursuits. Go here: for more images and hi res scans.

Not so Trad visit to Pinehurst

I was visiting the fantastic blog of Ms. Bunny Tomerlin when I saw these two images and had a flashback. Not the one you may be thinking. I never played golf at Pinehurst. I didn't have G&Ts in the bar while wearing this amazing madras blazer. It was something very different.

My last year in the Army. I had a somewhat cushy job in XVIII Airborne Corps G-2. Still, I was an operations sergeant (E-5) and was in the field a decent amount of time with a lot of Warsaw Pact stuff. T-54 Tank. BTR 60. BMP. Stuff like that. I later learned we were in violation of the Geneva Conventions but that's another story.

I was a short timer on my first enlistment. Had no desire to reup since they wouldn't assign me to the 504th Abn Regiment in Italy for six years... You're probably wondering what in the hell this has to do with Pinehurst and a Lilly P madras blazer. I'm getting there. I was sent on a recon for location of a training area with all that Warsaw Pact stuff. So two of us are tearing around fire breaks in a jeep around Camp McCall... not paying particular attention to the map when we got lost. Anyone who spent time with me in the Army is not surprised to hear that.

I had the great idea to get off post and to go into Southern Pines and get directions at a gas station. I had a 1 over 50 map and knew the locals could help. We wound up pulling into the driveway you see in the picture above. That's right. Pinehurst Country Club. I told "the" driver to wait, got out in my camouflage fatigues and sauntered into the main entrance with my map case. A very nice man at the front desk helped me with my map and re-oriented me. I turned to walk out and saw "the" driver standing in front of the club's Pro Shop scratching his head with one hand while holding his Ranger cap in the other.

Standing next to him, he pointed at a Madras Blazer proudly displayed in the shop window and turned to me. "What in the fuck is that, Sergeant T? " "That's a madras sport jacket, Mayne." Mayne was around 6' 3" and towered over me. He was a hunter and fisherman from the Midwest and had I listened to him we would never have gotten lost. "Two questions," Mayne asked, "One, who in the hell would ever wear that? Two, why in the fuck do you know what it is?"

This has been an ongoing experience in my life. Friends of mine, family, co-workers, my ex-wife, current girlfriend...they all want to know, "Why in the fuck do you know that?"

Trad Wedding

How often do you see the Stroller anymore? Granted, these look rented but who in their right mind is gonna buy a Stroller? A short morning coat, it was popular for day weddings some time ago. I say that because the last few weddings I've attended have been sartorial train wrecks. Tuxes at noon. Guests wearing dockers and golf shirts with sunglasses on top of their head. In reality, it is "her" day. So you have a good time anyway...and take notes.

Here, the groom was wearing a nice pair of black cap toes while the fellow on your far right wore black cowbow boots. He's a Hollywood screenwriter so go figure. The man on the far left wore a black suede-like running shoe. He's a crime fiction writer. Go figure again. The groom's father wore a beautiful pair of corrected grain paddock boots. Now, corrected grain is usually a big no-no but for this event it was perfect. According to Hardy Amies, he was the only one who nailed it.

Southern Trad

If ever there was an icon of Southern Trad in the 80's it has to be Duck Heads. This unique brand is found only in the southeast. Popular in Georgia, Virginia and the Carolina's. Cheap, good quality, fit and as cool as cool could be. These trousers hit my college campus in the early 80's and raged in popularity until the early 90's when there was a change in company ownership. And sure enough, some smart guy decided customers wouldn't notice the move off shore to manufacture in Costa Rica, El Salvador and China. The Olive Ducks are circa 1989-90. Notice the detail of the sewing.

Still, what's not to like for $2.98? They retail for $40 but they're always on sale. I found the Breton Reds at a Goody's outlet. Best worn with cuffs and without socks. Blucher's if you have them and a button down oxford with surcingle belt. Grab a red plastic SOLO cup full of cheap beer and you're suddenly 21 again. Like shrimp and grits...they're all about comfort. Even though I always liked 'em starched.

More Brits

Doing what they do best. After work drinks where everyone gets tanked on White Tops followed by a late night Curry. It was after one of these nights of Curry I invented a new product. Butt sized chap stick. It should be sold in all Curry houses. Next to the cash register (till). One time use only. I could make a fortune in London.

Brits

Look at these cheeky bastards, yeah. Right away the stripes give them away. Always have. That and the double breasted suit and the Hermes tie.

These are two gentlemen who work in the "city" with the uniform of banking or insurance. Double cuff shirts are never called French cuff and are preferred for work. Button down shirts are too informal for the city and usually frowned on. Plus, you can't wear them with a DB suit so what's the point, yeah?

The mixing of stripes is popular and the wilder the better. A good friend of mine was asked to leave Lloyd's of London for wearing a Khaki poplin suit. He was told that he wasn't on Safari and to go home and change.

Shoes are usually Monk Strap or Cap Toe with metal taps on the heels. It's a sound I love hearing on the sidewalks near Lime St. Socks are Marks and Sparks. And on POETS day (Piss Off Early Tommorow is Saturday), brokers spill out of the Lamb Pub in Leadenhall Market and take over the sidewalk drinking pints and smoking B&H Golds.

I love it and I love them. Have for some 22 years now. Nothing gives me more enjoyment than to wear a single breasted sack blazer with an oxford cloth button down, a Repp tie with flat front trousers and shell cordovan loafers. But, when in Rome, yeah?

Trad Lunch

Fraunces Tavern is at Pearl and Broad down in Wall Street. I loved this place back in the '80s. The history first attracted me. Washington resigned his commission and said goodbye to his general staff here. The fireplace was always welcome on a cold winter night. Along with the giant bowel of soft Port Wine Cheese and a plate full of Ritz crackers that sat at the end of the bar.

It was my favorite place to meet a date for drinks before heading uptown for dinner. Artifacts, mostly reproductions, were crammed into the place. The food wasn't that great then but the place had real soul. And dust.

I met management one night thanks to a date of mine. She was an FBI agent and while going to the bathroom her .38 fell out of her waist holster and into the toilet. Lucky for her this happened before and not after. So, she fished the Smith & Wesson, I think it was the hammerless model ... I'm not sure, out of the toilet and since there were no paper towels, she unloaded it and with the cylinder open, placed the gun under the hand dryer. I think the dryer was manufactured by World Dryer, a future client of mine...I'm not sure.

At about this time I was in the harbour on a boat in one of the worst ice storms the city had seen in years. I was running about an hour late....maybe an hour and a half...I'm not sure.

While the agent was drying her side arm another lady walked in. And while I'm not sure of this...I'm almost positive this woman had never been exposed to firearms. Certainly not one being held under a hand dryer in the bathroom of Fraunces Tavern. Which would explain why she screamed so loudly as she ran out.

My date, being the ever prepared FBI agent, was ready for management when they stormed the ladies room by holding her credentials out at arms length in one hand and the .38 in the other - - still under the dryer. Management, some pretty big fellas...I do remember that, laughed and stood by the door until Mr Smith and Mr Wesson were dry.

Upon exiting the ladies, my date and management stood by the fireplace and laughed some more. This is where I came in ...seeing four big men standing around my date and laughing...I thought, "What in the hell...?" Which is when my date saw me and said loudly, "Where in the fuck have you been?" This caused some more good natured laughs and one of my favorite phrases from management, "You kids go into the bar and relax. Drinks are on us."

Today I come here to remember. Dates with FBI agents. George Washington saying a tearful goodbye to his Army. The fireplace. All good. But that was then.

It's pretty horrible now. Someone took all the reproductions and dust. It seems empty and cold. All the charm lost somewhere between then and now. I like to have lunch here alone and ponder what 23 years can do to a place...and to me.

More Trad Dad

Since my earlier post about my father...and thanks to all who have expressed their concerns about his health...it has occured to me that I keep coming back to him. This is a photograph I grew up with. I was seven or eight when it was taken. This was before he finished the officer's Special Forces selection course. After which he was awarded a full flash (the patch on the beret) and sent off to Vietnam.

I remember when he left. We were at Pope AFB. He kissed my mother and sisters goodbye. He turned to me, pointed a finger at my chest and said, "You screw up once while I'm gone - - I'll come back here and kick your ass. You got that?" I nodded in the affirmative. He turned, threw his duffel bag on his shoulder and walked off to a waiting C130.

As a kid, I walked a fairly straight line. That is, I made every effort not to piss him off. Growing up on Army posts was somewhat unique in that a child's actions were a direct reflection on his father as well as his father's career. As I watch children today running loose in stores, kicking the back of my plane seat from Heathrow to O'Hare, demanding everything from their parents and most recently...video taping the beating of a fellow student...I am reminded of what it was like to grow up with this kind of father. Who could give you that kind of look. Thanks, Dad. If that ain't Trad - - I don't know what is.

The Trad Museum

Some things don't change and thank goodness the Met in NYC has kept this exhibit going. I first saw these guys in the mid 80s and damned if they're not still at the Met. I remember walking into this room for the first time and seeing these four Knights and thinking , "Holy shit. " Probably not what the curator was after but it blew me away. Still does.

Is it Trad? I think it is. I mean it's the Met. And any Trad knows that if this stuff bores you there's always the Wine Bar where you can get a bottle of Claret for $40. That's a pretty good deal for a NYC museum. So sit at the bar, share a bottle of wine with a friend, cross your legs so everyone can see your socks and talk about the fact that none of this stuff would be here if people didn't have sex. You can't get more Trad than that.

The Trad Hotel on the Trad Island

I fell in love with Bermuda on my first visit. It was England...but with sun. The taxi ride from the airport to my hotel in Hamilton was magical. It was a Friday afternoon and all of the traffic was coming toward us. Men on scooters in blue blazers, Bermuda shorts, kneesocks, Rep ties and sunglasses. Quick images of the ocean outside my taxi window framed by flowers and pink houses with electric blue shutters and bone white roofs. The humid breeze was soaked up by my dry, five below z