My dear sir, your letter reached me just a few days ago. I want to thank you for the deep and loving trust it revealed. I can do no more. I cannot comment on the style of your verses; critical intent is too far removed from my nature. There is nothing that manages to influence a work of art less than critical words. They always result in more or less unfortunate misunderstandings. Things are not as easily understood nor as expressible as people usually would like us to believe. Most happenings are beyond expression; they exist where a word has never intruded. Even more inexpressible are works of art; mysterious entities they are, whose lives, compared to our fleeting ones, endure.

Rilke, While Still a Young Poet Himself

So begin the Letters to a Young Poet, written from the great Austro-Bohemian author Rainer Maria Rilke to his young admirer Franz Xaver Kappus between the years of 1903 and 1908. These are not love letters in the usual sense, but they contain such a deep show of friendship in dealing with life’s trials that they stand as an encouragement to us all. Their celebration of love and loneliness should make them suitable for both the contented and the lonely hearts on this Valentine’s day.

At the outset, Kappus is a student in a military academy struggling to find his poetic voice. Rilke is a published poet, if not yet famous, and an alumnus of the same academy. The correspondence begins with Kappus’ request for advice about some poems he has written. Rilke responds with kindness, but is hesitant to comment too specifically about the poems, telling Mr. Kappus to look within himself rather than heed advice from the world of men.

Rilke explains that “In order for a person to advise, even to help another, a great deal must happen. Many different elements must coincide harmoniously; a whole constellation of things must come about for that to happen even once.” Yet despite Rilke’s doubts, it seems that just such a constellation did take place between these young men. Instead of literary criticism, however, Kappus receives advice about the artistic life and the difficulties faced by those who are independent.

It is clear from Rilke’s writing that Kappus was not a happy man. He must have confessed a deep loneliness, for solitude is a theme that recurs again and again in the letters. Rather than advising Mr. Kappus how to avoid the pain of being alone, the poet declares that aloneness is part of our very nature, and that we must turn towards it if we wish to live deeply. “To be lonely as one was lonely as a child… that must be the goal… look at the world as a child would see it — out of the depths of your own world”. To have one’s own world that one may look from, this is what it means to be an individual.

Though Kappus is undoubtedly experiencing a very real, literal loneliness, the solitude which Rilke glorifies is of a spiritualized form–more an existential condition than a passing state. Our ultimate individuality need not prohibit us from being together in a sense that is both meaningful and real, though far from easy.

For one human being to love another is perhaps the most difficult task of all, the epitome, the ultimate test. It is that striving for which all other striving is merely preparation.

To love in the highest way, we must have already braved the pains of loneliness. Life presents many challenges, which one may either shirk from or embrace. Most do not have the courage for the difficult path. “People have, with the help of so many conventions, resolved everything the easy way … But it is clear that we must embrace struggle… It is good to be lonely, for being alone is not easy”. To the extent that we can be alone, our relationships will be more profound for it.

This love, as pure as it is, is not merely contemplative. Rilke is no ascetic. He finds that physical love, too, is a blessing.

They who meet in the night to be entwined and sway in passionate lust are performing a serious work. They are gathering “sweets” and depth and power for the song of some future poet, who shall arise and speak of unspeakable bliss.

But during those long months when bliss of any kind seems furthest away, Rilke councils trust in life–trust in what is. “We have no reason to mistrust our world,” he says, “for it is not against us.” He speaks reassuring words during times of doubt, seeks in fact to transform doubt into devout unknowning and contemplation of mystery.

When we read receptively, Rilke’s words startle our thinking. They allow us to see our emotions as the product of our choices, rather than natural reactions to the way things are.

If your everyday life appears to be unworthy subject matter, do not complain to life. Complain to yourself. Lament that you are not poet enough to call up its wealth.

Sometimes life may seem harsh and dessicated, but if so, that is our own failure, for life itself is rich beyond imagining.

In times of difficulty, conventional understandings mar the view of our manifold possibilities, making things appear more barren, more fixed, and more hopeless than they really are. It is up to us, he says, to be patient, to be humble, and to restrengthen ourselves for the trials ahead. Thus he asks us:

How could we be capable of forgetting the old myths that stand at the threshold of all mankind, myths of dragons transforming into princesses?

Perhaps all dragons in our lives are really princesses just waiting to see us just once being beautiful and courageous.

We would be better to think so.

I hope I have offered you, dear reader, a sense of the breadth, beauty, and wisdom of these letters. They contain more than I can possibly convey, and these brief excerpts do not do justice to the prolonged and intrincate developments that occur within them. Yet if I have awoken some curiosity or longing in you, suggested but a hint of the love that I feel as I hold these pages, then I am grateful for that privilege.

Quotes are furnished from the eloquent translation of Joan M. Burnham.

Dance is one of the great popular art forms. Where there is music, there is dance–or ought to be. To dance in public involves a twofold pleasure: that of the audience, and that of the dancer. Where the latter dominates, dancing becomes a communal activity. The pleasure of dancing by oneself is dwarfed by that of doing so with others, so it is no surprise that partner dancing evolved as the simplest form of dancing-together. The two-person dance, like the two-person marriage, is easier to maintain than its more plentiful alternatives.

Early Ballroom Dancers

Yet the lasting success of partner dancing has to do with more than the efficiency of its structure. The pairing of potential romantic interests makes the dance infinitely more intriguing. The suggestion of sensuality is equally present, although usually in a sublimated form. Dancing is a physical language, and partner dancing provides both the activity and the means by which to know someone other than through their conversation. This was especially important in a time when people did not speak as casually as we do today (except, perhaps, with their eyes).

Yet as the art of conversation is in decline, so too is the art of partner dancing. To confirm this, one need go no further than one’s neighborhood “dance club” and observe the movement of its patrons. They will be clumsy, sometimes rude (given the presence of alcohol) and lacking developed skill. The “good dancers” are so only in appearance, and are not capable of any real kinesthetic connection with their partners. The discourse of the dance will thus be no better than the paltry words shouted over the music.

The alternatives to the “dance club” scene are those groups which are dedicated to specific dances such as tango, salsa, or your author’s favorites: swing and blues. These communities have their own classes, dances, social networks and customs. Like the monasteries of the middle ages, they are the guardians of special knowledge in dark times. If you’re ready to join an order, the question arises, which one? Your author went for what was fun and convenient, and unlike in one’s personal life, this is a fine recipe for satisfaction. What draws one to a dance, however, is not necessarily what keeps one’s interest. So let me speak of the communities that have drawn me for so many years; perhaps it will spark your interest.

Swing and blues music are unmistakably American. They suggest aspects of our history and our present society. Swing is an image of the joyful vigor of the young and ambitious; the blues tells the tale of the down and out, as they struggle with hunger and loneliness. In the transition from music to dance, swing becomes play and blues passion. The distinctions, however, are far from rigid. Blues in particular is a plastic, improvised dance. Although it includes a few basic movements, its mood shifts entirely based on the music, which ranges from twelve bar to funk, hip hop, and even pop music.

Renoir, "Dance at Bougival"

Swing and blues also have a special symbiosis. The large overlap between the two communities and their natural affinity of movement means that the two dances are frequently blended together. Lead-follow is the lingua franca, and the best dancers of either are always conversant in both. This makes the pair a satisfying community to join, because the dances allows for the expression of a full range of emotions in their corresponding styles.

The communities that form around such dancing are almost always welcoming and inclusive. It’s in their interest to be: fresh blood means more people to dance with. Swing and blues in particular tend to draw people who are by nature positive and open, because it’s almost guaranteed that there will be a stranger pressed against your body within 30 minutes of arrival. The kind of people who aren’t interested in new friends and experiences generally won’t go for that.

Regardless of which dances one chooses, the rewards are many. More than exercise, it’s exuberance! More than “socializing”, it’s true intercourse! In a time when people are increasingly trapped between their temples, partner dancing is a great mediator, a reminder from our childhood that we can be freer and more expressive. At its best, dance allows us a joie de vivre that reunites us with our bodies and our neighbors. In times characteristic of isolation and deficient in charm, it is just the tonic we need.

Modern Tailor is one of several websites which offer custom clothing at prices rivaling those of quality off-the-rack articles. As far as we were able to determine, Modern Tailor in fact offers the best prices for this service. The fact that this is a no-frills operation is apparent by their unpolished web presence. Yet the site does everything it needs to do, and customer support has been admirably responsive. The relevant factor is not, after all, the quality of the storefront, but of the merchandise.

Process

One begins the process by registering an account, selecting the “Measurements” tab of “My Account,” and creating a dress shirt profile. Modern Tailor accepts two types of measurements: of a customer’s body, or of a known-to-fit shirt. The second method is the one recommended, and since the Anachronist is, regrettably, not a master of the paper-tape, he decided to follow this advice. Yet, isn’t the purpose of this exercise to obtain a shirt that fits better than any we already own? Certainly, and one may achieve this end by combining the measurements from articles which fit correctly in various dimensions (sleeve-length from one shirt, waist size from another), using one’s judgments to ‘bend’ the measurements in the direction of perfection. (Be careful when combining interdependent measurements from multiple shirts, i.e. shoulder width and sleeve length, or you may end up with sleeves that are the wrong length.)

Once the measurement profile is completed, one proceeds to design one’s shirt, starting with the choice of fabric. The Anachronist enjoys heavier fabrics, so he searched for two-ply options, finally settling on a “pure cotton 80s two-ply orange and brown rust twill”. The selected options were a classic stiff collar, round cuffs, an angle-cut breast pocket, and mother of pearl buttons ($2 extra), for the very reasonable total of $51.95.

Results

Tailored Shirt

The shirt arrived in about ten days. It matched the specifications exactly, and the fit was superb. The quality of the fabric was quite nice: medium weight, rich in color, and pleasing to touch. The quality of the stitching was fine, though not excellent. There were a few loose threads here and there (mostly on the inside), but these were easily removed with a scissors. The buttons and buttonholes seemed to be the weak point in terms of the stitching, but they were probably as good as anything you would get for the same price in a department store.

You may notice that the sleeves in this photograph appear slightly long, which is correct, so that they will extend the traditional 1/4 inch beyond the jacket-sleeve when the elbow is bent. This is most gratifying to your author, since it is a sartorial detail he was never before able to satisfy.

Keeping the Price Down

Those who want to keep costs to a minimum should keep in mind that the main factor affecting price is the fabric selected. The fabric price is the price of a basic shirt, including one’s choice of details. Additional costs apply for various “extras” like monograms or contrasting collars. It is worth examining the weekly sales which can greatly reduce the total cost.

There is a shipping charge of $10, although this can be offset with the coupons that Modern Tailor send out regularly. If you email sales@moderntailor.com and ask for a coupon, they will usually oblige you as a new customer.

Following the Anachronist’s first order, Modern Tailor sent him several coupon codes which can only be used by others, not by himself. So if you would like a $20-off coupon, be one of the first three people to comment on this post and politely ask for one (don’t forget to enter a valid email address).

Conclusion

Tailored clothing is something that has to be experienced to be fully appreciated. Given that it is now so affordable, the Anachronist heartily recommends that you try it. Those who have never had a tailored shirt before may find themselves elated with the result. Any favored piece of clothing can make one feel good while wearing it, but there is a singular pleasure in having an article made for oneself alone, both in the knowledge of the fact, and in the vestiary accord which accompanies it.

In the future, the Anachronist hopes to review other tailors, both the online and in-person varieties. But for the time being, he is quite satisfied with his Modern Tailor. They may be a little rough around the edges, but for the service they provide, they are truly a bargain.

Moroni, "The Tailor", circa 1570

There was once a time when all clothes were custom made. They could be made well or poorly, in the family or by a professional, but they were always made for their recipient. The only clothes that were not personal in this way were hand-me-downs. Today, nearly everyone dresses in the equivalent of hand-me-downs, even when they purchase things new. Pricier items may be of fine quality, but they were made for someone else: for our brother, Mr. 38 Long, or our cousin, Dr. Large. The crudity of this method is particularly conspicuous for those of us blessed with uncommon proportions.

The solution, of course, is a return to the tailor-made. Clothes that have been correctly tailored have a perfect fit in every respect. The aesthetic superiority of such a costume is even greater than one might expect. It lends the wearer a grace and elegance that is simply impossible with standard sizing. The effect is not merely apparent, either. Tailored clothing is distinctly comfortable: one feels at home in one’s skin.

But wait!–prudence objects–aren’t such clothes the province of the wealthy? Don’t they cost a month’s wages for the working man? Perish the thought that such a privilege should be reserved for the capitalist elite–a group frequently distinguished by their lack of refinement rather than their abundance. Yet we all ought to learn this trick from the rich: buying finer things saves money in the long run. Clothes from a good tailor often last several times as long as those bought off-the-rack. Thus, even if they cost twice as much, they may actually prove more affordable–as long as one buys classic styles and avoids the siren’s squawk of the trendy.

Yet even those who see that custom clothing is a winning proposition may not be able to afford the services of a local tailor. Luckily, they don’t have to. Western globetrotters have known for years that excellent tailors can be found in Hong Kong or Bangkok for a fraction of the domestic price. Recently, several websites have sprung up that capitalize on this sartorial bounty by offering custom clothing–tailored in the orient and transported by courier–at rates that even the petite-bourgeoisie can afford.

Through such services, the Anachronist has redeemed himself. He can stand tall without the worry that his cuffs will withdraw from his jacket or his shirttails from his trousers. There is nothing that the Anachronist recommends more than rectitude–whether moral or physical–and any object that encourages such behavior is to be commended. Read on for the Anachronist’s account of his first adventure in trans-pacific haberdashery.

The Collection: 1947-1972

Hartman was at his best singing love songs. The Anachronist, as you would expect, is a romantic, and the same was clearly true of Hartman. From the upbeat swing of “Almost Like Being in Love” to the tender consolations of “In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning”, Hartman’s smooth baritone is a welcome guide to the joys and the sorrows. His songs are emotional, but he’s so jazzman cool and palpably sincere that he never sounds kitschy or dated.

For those interested in discovering Hartman (or hearing more), a great place to start is The Johnny Hartman Collection: 1947-1972 , which includes 38 songs for about $15. It even includes your author’s favorite tracks from Hartman’s legendary collaboration with John Coltrane: “Lush Life” and “My One and Only Love”.

This album is a gem–and a bargain. Highest recommendation.

• they are ugly (not to mention déclassé)
• they cause razor bumps
• the cartridges are vastly overpriced and incompatible (Gillette Fusion cartridges cost $2.50-$3.50 per cartridge)
• the handles need to be replaced every few years when obsoleted by models with more blades, vibrators, and racing stripes

The highly motivated shaver could certainly purchase a barbershop-style straight razor, and the Anachronist applauds the enthusiasm of those who take that plunge, but he himself was concerned about the plunge of the gleaming razor into his neck, and has opted to start with something more familiar: an old fashioned safety razor. While Gillete no longer makes safety razors in the old style, there are several manufacturers who do.

The Anachronist's Parker 82R

Three weeks ago, when he had finally had it with the absurdity of modern razors, the Anachronist purchased a Parker 82R Safety Razor, and he could not be more pleased with the results. After extensive comparison, he chose the 82R for its nicely sculpted brass-and-chrome handle and greater heft. The 82R also features a “butterfly” head, that makes changing the blade an elementary procedure. Those that prefer longer handles, lighter weights or styles other than chrome (a genteel horn handle, for instance) should consult Parker’s other models as well as those from Merkur of Germany.

After several weeks of shaving with the Parker, the Anachronist confirmed his opinion that old style safety razors positively trounce the new ones. The build quality is excellent, the increased weight gives it a great feel in the hand, and the shave (using Shark Super Chrome blades) is as good as his old Sensor Excel. The Anachronist’s initial worries that he might get more nicks using a ‘real’ razor proved unfounded: to date, he has had not-a-one. Shaving has even become more enjoyable, because the classic masculinity of the experience has been restored. When one has a proper razor in hand, one feels immediately like a gentleman.

History

It wasn’t so bad in the beginning. The safety razor was, after all, a useful invention. By limiting the extension of the blade to the minimum required, it greatly reduced the depth of cut one could receive from a shaving accident (or a would-be Sweeney Todd). Yet the concomitant introduction of disposable blades heralded something more sinister. By making the blades disposable, Gillette assured that his customers would need to return again and again for replacements. One might argue that the customer was receiving value from this exchange: he was saved the inconvenience of sharpening his blade. If some disliked this model, they could keep their straight razors. But lest you apologists be too quickly assuaged–read on: the worst is yet to come.

Although Gillette had made a thriving business from the sale of blades and razor handles, they did not have full control of the market. The safety razors of that period worked using interoperable blades, made by many manufacturers. In 1965, that all changed when Gillette introduced the Techmatic razor, which used proprietary blade-cartridges. The greatest innovation of the cartridge razor had nothing to do with its usefulness–in fact–just the opposite. Its unique selling point was its absolute incompatibility with every other brand of razor.

Gillette employed this fault to great effect by combining it with the marketing strategy which has hence come to be known as “loss leading”, or simply the “razor and blades model”. Today, this approach will likely be familiar to everyone: Gillette gave away their razor handles for free as a way of acquiring new customers, who would henceforth need to buy Gillette’s specific brand of cartridges if they wanted to make use of their “gift”. Other razor manufacturers quickly followed suit by introducing their own incompatible cartridge razors. Since the handles were now being given away, the manufactures–ever wary of giving consumers a deal–decided to compensate by making them worthless. In place of the handsome, solid metal tools that used to go by the name “razor”, today we find grotesque creatures of rubber and plastic.

In addition to degrading the quality of the razors, the manufacturers made up for lost profits by increasing the price of their cartridges. In fact, because of the relative monopoly status that each had over consumer who already owned one of their handles, manufacturers were able to increase blade prices many times over. In order to justify this to consumers, manufacturers tried to differentiate their razors from their competitors, showing how “advanced” their new models were.

Gillette pioneered what is now an almost ubiquitous feature of the once-reasonable art of shaving: the multi-bladed razor. In 1971, Gillette introduced the Trac II, the world’s first twin blade cartridge razor. What quaint times those were! But once two blades had become standard, Gillette developed a razor with three. Not to be outdone, Schick responded with their Quattro and Gillette riposted with their current flagship: the Fusion, which comes equipped with six blades: five inline, plus a “precision trimmer”. The Fusion Power is equipped with a battery and motor, in order to vibrate during use. To vibrate!

The Anachronist is shaking his head as he writes this, and he hopes that you are shaking yours. The arms-race that is taking place between razor manufacturers has reached the level of self-parody. And yet, somehow they have successfully marketed these to consumers who are, The Anachronist is desperate to believe, ignorant of their better options.

Other Manufacturers Follow Suit

Seeing the great success that razor manufacturers have had with this business model, companies in other sectors have attempted to imitate it. This is why you can now buy an inkjet printer for $50, but the ink cartridges (of which there are usually four) cost as much as $40 each. This has been accompanied by other shenanigans like shipping printers with half-full cartridges and designing them to prematurely report that ink is running out. Manufacturers are not concerned with quality, because they think they can make more money selling dross. One can hardly be indignant when a printer fails if it was purchased for pennies. And consumer behavior behavior is just as predicable: throw it away and get a new one. As more companies catch on to this strategy and it spreads to more sectors, products that used to be attractive and durable are replaced with cheap and disposable consumer addictions. This would be a disaster of taste even if were not one of ecology.

This disposability is a problem for all products that were once well built but expensive and which have slowly been replaced by mass-produced, cheap but shoddy alternatives. Yet the current state of safety razors is particularly egregious because old-style razors are so superior in every way: in looks, in longevity, in cost (after the initial purchase), in function.

Closing Words

These razor companies, and the others who strive to imitate their impressive profits by their highly unimpressive methods, are only able to do so because we, as consumers, go along with it. The Anachronist is not used to being humble, but he will make himself so. He begs you: reject these inelegant and unprofitable schemes!

High quality, attractive and long-lasting goods are available, and for reasonable prices (cheaper than junk in the long run). They are harder to find, but the Anachronist will help you! He loves such things, and because he is so fond of you, dear reader, he will share them–beginning with his newest purchase, a Parker Safety Razor.

The Anachronist would have none of this.

His love was for beauty and sincerity; for good character and fullness of meaning. Where things were concerned, he preferred quality to quantity and singularity to newness. At times, he felt alone in his preferences, but slowly he came to realize that this was far from the truth. Though the mainstream may be out to sea, there are other currents beneath it. Some come from the past; others, perhaps, from the future. This journal was created as a place to share them.