The Well-Dressed Gentleman

The Game of Kings and Gentlemanly Virtue

2011-08-05T11:48:00.001-04:00

Well, it's Summer--that's what the thermometer is saying anyway (more like screaming, at temperatures in the 90's and 100's)--so it's a corking time to reprint the article on THE GAME...

Chess? Marbles? Horse-Shoes? Perhaps volley ball? No, the game of Kings is—now, if I told you right off the bat some of you would have already said, “Well, enough reading for the night, Jeeves, an early bed-time I think,” because the game of which I speak is Golf. OK, it’s not necessarily a game for Kings, but it is a game (it’s not actually a sport) for gentlemen! Bear with me here—about 4 years ago I had as much interest in golf as I do now in knitting a sweater, or being stung by a bee. Why, you may be asking, do I stun your eyes with words like “golf?” Consider these gentlemanly virtues, brought about by the game of golf in a way that few other games can match:

Honor. There are no referees in golf. You can be honest, or not. Only God and you know if you quietly kick the ball to a better position for your next shot. The honorable man will play fair even under these circs, though he be sorely tempted to cheat (and this temptation will arise…)

Patience. With yourself, with your mistakes and bad shots, with your teammate who is perhaps either too slow, or too good.

Humility. Golf almost looks easy. What could be simpler, after all, than whacking a ball with a stick into a hole in the ground? Simple, however, does not mean easy. Not easy: hit a small ball 300 yards accurately, avoiding lakes, streams, sand pits, tall grass, geese, and other golfers, so as to be able to get it into the few-inch diameter hole in only 3 or 4 shots—or less. As any one who has played one mere hole or two of golf will admit—this game will teach you humility, and honor—this is where the temptation to cheat comes in, because when you hit the ball everywhere but where you want it to go the temptation will arise, hideously, to covertly move the ball to where you can knock it into the hole in at least under 12 shots. You were upset when at the 5^th shot you still weren’t near the hole, but now at 10, you are about to kill one of those geese with your 3-wood.

Self-control. After you successfully avoid taking out a few geese, you will be tempted (and this is only 10 or 15 minutes in, perhaps) to twist every club, including and perhaps especially, the putter, into a masterpiece of bent-metal modern art. See #’s 2 and 3.

Concentration. The amount of concentration it takes to hit a golf ball is staggering. When people are watching this can cause the beginner to smack the ball so far that he can’t see it, because he just clipped the ball, and it rolled an inch in front of him. Yeah, that counts as one stroke—only 2 or 3 left, and you're over the allotted number. Concentrate. Repeat #’s 2-4 if necessary.

Nature. Right-ho, that is not a virtue. I’m pleased you’re still with us here at number 6. Golf is usually played amongst beautiful scenery. The course is serene, (except for the honking of fleeing geese and the sound of breaking metal), there are ponds, trees, the sound of wind rustling the leaves, the sun, the fresh air. If you are at a links course, that means you are also by the sea-side, with wonderful, salty ocean air. It is a great place to spend time, even apart from golf, and during the game it helps relax one between fits of violent lunacy. If you are not impeded by time or nature, avoid the golf cart—golf should be played, when possible, by walking from one place to the next, enjoying the scenery, the camaraderie, the exercise, the knowledge that your next shot will be perfect.

Obsession. Toward the end, when you realize that you have done a few things well, many not, but have remained an honorable gentleman, this thought may occur to you: “I know I can hit the ball straighter and more accurately—I was just standing/swinging/aiming/taking the wind direction into account all wrong. Do we have to leave? Just one more game…

A final note. A few of you may be desirous of quoting Mark Twain at this point: “Golf is a good walk spoiled.” I, too, used to quote Twain in this regard, until I realized he is totally wrong. If golf were a walk, it would indeed be “a good walk spoiled.” But golf is not a walk—it contains walking, but golf is a game, not a walk. They are separate things entirely, and both have their place. There is nothing like a good walk. But for building gentlemanly virtue and character, golf is a king amongst other games.

Well-Dressed Entertainment

2011-04-27T13:18:00.000-04:00

Popping off to the Well-Dressed Gentleman website, you'll notice a new addition on the top right corner of the page: Gentlemanly music and books! Listen to one, or all; while you're on the ol' gents' website, or while you're tromping off to the far reaches of the internet (as long as the Well-Dressed site remains on, the music or books will keep on playing, whatever other tabs or pages you open). I'll add to the playlist periodically, and if you have any ideas, let me know (of course, submission of ideas may or may not lead to inclusion in the playlist; I'm pretty persnickety, if persnickety is the word I want, when it comes to the content on my website).

Cheerio!

Pajamas Yes, Blue Jeans not so much

2011-04-26T22:35:00.001-04:00

If you often find yourself sitting about at home in your pajamas, chances are that now and again someone comes to the door. This happens to me more than it used to, since I spend so much time here perusing the internet for job openings. I mean to say, one gets out of bed, eventually, and then one obtains the necessary black liquid and plunges into the electronic world of job applications. It used to be that one would go to an actual store or business and fill out a paper application or deliver a paper resume. Not so anymore! Sure, for part-time jobs, that's still often the case; but this isn't the norm anymore for full-time positions. In a way, this is good--applying online is much easier than printing out resumes and carrying them hither and yon. Now, a click or two of the button sends the cover letter and resume instantly. And yet, it lacks personal presence. But there it is.

So, there you are in your pajamas--and I should add that what I am about to say applies to gentlemen only--and someone knocks at the door, or perhaps the mail has arrived, or you have to sign for a package. Your first instinct may be to run for the closet and change. Well, forget that. The truth of the matter is that it's been the custom for many a decade that a gentleman in pajamas--and preferably robe and slippers (the complete bed-time ensemble)--can thus receive visitors of equal (friends, family) or lesser status (tradesmen, postal workers, neighbors, etc). If you're like me, you're probably reading this and thinking "Have I been mysteriously transferred to a perfect world?" Ha-ha! No. But it's one of those things that make life grand!

Blue jeans are not, however, totally unrelated to the above. While I've been sitting at home without a full-time paid position (I'm certainly not jobless--I have more to do now I think than I did with a job!--looking for work, keeping up the house, writing to people, sleeping and so on), I've had much less chance to dress up in any way remotely resembling Beau Brummel:

Chance to wear suit and Fedora, nil;
Chance to wear blazer and dress pants, nil;
Chance to wear pajamas, blue jeans and the like, 99%

Now, again, the pajamas I like. You can really dress up with pajamas, a nice robe and a pair of slippers and look every bit the gent. But the rest of the time--well, it's blue jeans or similar.

Some of you may be thinking, "Why not dress up anyway?" Well, for a few reasons, I simply can't wear a suit at home:

1) Why put wear and tear on the suits, shirts, etc, when the only one who will see me is mostly me?
2) There's a great deal of housework to do, and the finery will simply end up covered in dirt, dish water, trash, you name it.

But--I grow weary of donning blue jeans and t-shirts, and this has led me to a take a slightly new course. Well, one other thing has as well, but I'll get to that. The new course is this: Except for working in the yard or home fixing and painting projects, no more jeans. No, instead, I'm going to don the khaki or blue dress pants, and polo shirts (since the weather's turned warm). Good, gentlemanly causal wear. If they do get dirty, and they will, it's not as much of an issue as a wounded suit or tie. Besides, such pants and shirts can be pretty inexpensive if they need to be replaced. A Fedora or English Driving Cap isn't out of place with such an ensemble, either. And I'll look more the gent than just sitting about in jeans. Not that blue jeans are a sartorial faux pas. They have their place; I'm just tired of the very casual look day in, day out.

So, what's the other reason? I know I've lamented it before, but since I've begun writing here it's become still worse: Men dressing like slobs. Walk out the door almost anywhere and you will see herds of lads hurling themselves about in shorts, flip flops, a t-shirt and a baseball hat. That's great for the beach. It's not great for going most anywhere else. For example, this past Sunday was Easter Sunday. Perhaps some of you are Christians and were at Easter services. I'm a Catholic myself, and was at Mass of course, as every Sunday, on Easter. And what did I see? I saw three men dressed as they should be--myself, one 80 year old guy, and one other fellow about my age. The rest of the men you would think just strolled in from a long and somewhat difficult day at the seaside; a bunch of disheveled, severely under-dressed blokes.

I'm pretty sure that anyone reading this, religious or not, would agree that if one does go to a religious service of some sort that due respect should be shown. Of course, these same men would wear this outfit for most any event. If they could meet the Queen of England, and be admitted in such an outfit as described above, they would do it. Nothing in life, apparently, has any gravity for them, including God.

The whole image these lads convey isn't one that says "I take life pretty easy" but "I really take nothing seriously, I have no respect for myself or others; I dress however I want with no regard for anyone but myself. And I'm lazy. I just can't be bothered putting actual clothes on." The way one dresses really does say a lot about a person; not everything, to be sure, but it does provide some dim intimation, at the very least. For example, put a well-dressed gentleman together with a slob and you will see in the gent's face that it is only manly, gentlemanly restraint which prevents him from whacking the slob in the shins with his walking stick or umbrella.

In a word, I am absolutely sick of this culture of wimpy men, lazy men, feminized men, un-cultured men. And that's the other reason for my eschewing blue jeans except for very specific applications--that is, using them for their original purpose only, which was physical labor. I think the under-dressing problem has gotten so bad that there really needs to be a huge surge of gentlemen dressing and acting like gentlemen, and even dressing a bit better than they normally would at home or at the zoo and what-not. Wear some nice pants, a good shirt, and a decent, non-baseball hat, that's my plan!

Toodle-pip, gentlemen!

Where Have You Been...

2011-04-11T11:36:00.000-04:00

Where have I been, indeed. If this blog has any followers left, may I say that you are among the most loyal, and dare I say fanatical, fans in the whole sartorial world.

In fact, I've been here. I mean, not staring at a blank page thinking of things of which to write, but here, in the world, by the computer or with newspaper in hand, looking for a job. Having lost my job of 10 years due to lay-offs, I have been spending most of my time trying to find work, not lose our house, figure out how to pay bills, and so on. And, after 2 years of looking, not one blasted offer of work. I did, I am happy to report, hear good things from a variety of popular newspapers here in the USA, saying that my writing is wonderful, but either not the proper fit for them, or that they don't have a budget for any new special columnists anytime in the next century due to our collapsing economy. Yes, collapsing it seems. When over 500 people apply for one janitorial job in one small town (not here), something is amiss. Indeed, most of the jobs I've applied for have over 300 applicants. A lot of people have just quit looking for work.

So, that's what I've been up to. I've not forgotten the Well-Dressed Gentleman website, and it will continue. Next, I suppose I'll write a bit about pajama culture, because that's my morning-time job searching outfit of choice--on with slippers and robe (though it's getting warmer now), obtain the black gold (coffee), and get to the work of looking for paying work.

So, that article is upcoming. I have another on the front burner as well. and if any of you are in a position hire someone for, well, almost anything, or have some good contacts, send me an offer of employment. Or at least a check...I'm out of gin and the last time a martini and I met was, oh, months ago now.

Pip-pip; future articles en route...

Butter, Bacon, Bourbon...and Billionaires

2010-12-05T17:06:00.001-05:00

Billionaires Bacon--bacon with brown sugar sprinkled on it and then cooked in the oven--is one of the most...oh bother, is it even necessary to describe it? It's bacon, bacon coated with brown sugar for goodness sakes, it needs no further description. But there is one thing that is, perhaps, even better: Buttered Billionaire's Bacon Bourbon. Buttered Bourbon you may have imbibed, Billionaire's Bacon you may have munched on, but the combination of the two renders a hot drink that will make you wish it would stay winter for a lot longer.

First, making bacon bourbon. Easy. Cook some bacon. Save about 1-2 ounces of the bacon fat, then put it and a 750 ml bottle of bourbon into a glass jar. Let it sit for several hours/overnight. Then put it in the freezer for several more hours, or over another night (depends how cold your freezer is); the fat will solidify, and the alcohol just gets cold without freezing. Then you can strain the bourbon back into the original bottle through cheesecloth, or lacking that, a coffee filter (don't forget to put your straining device into a funnel, or you'll have bourbon running all over the kitchen floor). You could also double strain the bourbon, straining it into another glass jar and then straining it into the original bottle. I would probably suggest the double straining method for extra purity.

OK, so, you've got bacon bourbon! Now, to the recipe. I don't know if anyone else has invented this--I imagine someone has; either way, I'm calling it...

Hot Buttered Billionaire's Bacon Bourbon

Ingredients:

2 ounces of bacon bourbon
5 ounces of hot water
1 ounce of brown sugar syrup (recipe follows)
small bit of butter (1/3 of a tablespoon perhaps)

Heat up 5 ounces of water to near boiling. About 1 min. 40 sec in microwave.
Pour bourbon into a drinking vessel.
Pour hot water into bourbon.
Pour 1 ounce of brown sugar syrup into the mixture and stir a bit.
Put in the butter and let it melt.
Drink slowly on a cold night.

Its a simple recipe, but you will be amazed at how good it is. Now, you may be thinking, as I did at first, that 5 ounces of water is a lot for that little bit of bourbon. But the genius to this recipe (the base recipe is not mine of course, I just added the idea of baconizing it) is the brown sugar syrup--the depth and taste of the syrup mixes with the water and perfectly compliments the bourbon, boosting the depth of what would otherwise be watery bourbon.

Brown Sugar Syrup

Ingredients:

1 cup light brown sugar
1 cup sugar
1/4 cup light corn syrup
2 cups water
3 Tbs. unsalted butter

In a sauce pan, bring both sugars, corn syrup, and water to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer vigorously until thickened to a syrupy consistency, 10 to 15 minutes.

Store it in the fridge. Should be good for around 6 weeks (around the refrigerated life of butter, though I hear from some butter can go longer).

One year ago, a re-post: Christmas on the Front

2010-11-29T16:31:00.000-05:00

Trenches in World War I were muddy, messy, dangerous places; the sort that could cave in, the kind where diseases lurked and bullets whizzed by you from an enemy sometimes as close as 30 yards away. Just beyond your cozy bunker, bombs were being lobbed into no man's land, or into your trench if it was dug in a bad spot.

But on Christmas night, 1914, along a good portion of the front, the Germans did something a bit unexpected: They invited the English to join them in no man's land to sing Christmas carols. Pretty soon both sides were not only singing, but were engaged in fierce matches of soccer. They shared cigarettes, and showed one another photos of loved ones back home. It was a moment of sanity and humanity in the midst of horror and, well, insanity. And it was brought about not by the commanders, but by the guys doing the dirty work, the common soldiers. Some of the commanders did approve of the festivities, while others were afraid it was allowing the enemy to restructure their defenses. Maybe other commanders were afraid that peace might break out.

But it was the right response--gentlemen may be compelled to fight, and they hopefully fight honorably, but a gentleman knows that Christmas is not the time to be fighting. It's, well, Christmas. Via Charles Dickens, Scrooge's nephew put it very well indeed:

"There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare say, Christmas among the rest. But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round--apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that--as a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!"

With that in mind, please take a listen to one of the best, least played and most under-rated Christmas carols of all time, "Snoopy's Christmas." It's located at the top right of this page.

A Merry Christmas to you all, and a Happy New Year!

Party Etiquette and the Cliche; things not to do, things not to say

2010-11-26T14:20:00.003-05:00

I'm probably "preaching to the choir," but I'm going to "bite the bullet" and "tell it like it is." So, consider this an "FYI" and "man up" (unless you're a woman, in which case, don't). Well, that's a few of the most commonly used cliche phrases anyway. Annoying, isn't it? Most of us let them slip now and again, but as for me, I'm trying to restrict their usage to pointing out how obnoxious over-used phrases can be. I imagine most gentlemen try to avoid them.

Certainly once one becomes aware of cliches--as well as the all too common and lightly muttered pop-psychological insights of wisdom by people who have no concept of how the human mind works--wait now where was I? That's the trouble with sentences that are too long, they lead to forgetfulness and digressions. Ah yes, there's my spot...once you become aware of these trite nuggets you'll start finding them everywhere, and become increasingly de-enamored of them. You'll want to "think outside the box." Then you'll kick yourself for using them. And then you'll start inventing your own clever phrases, which will make you sound creative, intelligent, and interesting. Girls will flock to the gentleman who thus speaks--I know a fellow who was inadvertently calendared to marry 4 girls in one week due to confusion over the amount of ladies willing to marry him and bad organizational habits, and all merely due to his cessation of the phrase "says you," which he replaced with "Would you like me to throw a cat at you?" Not, perhaps, the clearest of expressions, but one understands his meaning and gives him an A+ for creativity and an A for his knowledge of the use of felines in thwarting unwanted repartee (that's another post though).

But what, you ask, does that have to do with party etiquette? Nothing, not directly anyway; though an overuse of the phrase "I wish we could get the dwarfs to shave their legs, but how often did Abe Lincoln sit on an upright tooth-pick anyway" started several small wars, the advent of the modern donut shop and Einstein's theory of special and general relativity.

So, dinner parties. It's the "holiday season" and everyone's either hosting a party or attending one. Besides inventing some snappy new phrases for the occasion, there's one particular bit of etiquette that's too frequently being hurled off the ship of gentlemanly and lady-like behavior: The art of bringing a gift to the host and/or hostess.

A gift you can always bring (unless the hosts are teetotalers): It's always a good thing to bring your host(s) a bottle of wine, beer if you know they like beer, or some good gin/vodka/bourbon/tequila. Depending on the circs, this may be something they save for another time (if they're not close friends/family this is common) or that they may want to open and enjoy with you. Don't be offended if it's not opened at the party--it's a gift, and meant to be enjoyed at their leisure; let the hosts decide.

Another gift you can always bring (unless they have allergies): Flowers. Tough to go wrong there, unless the host is a bachelor; if the host is a woman or a married couple, flowers are great. If the lady is single (or married and hosting a party on her own for some reason), take care that the flowers are not taken amiss as a sign of unwanted or inappropriate affection.

A gift not to bring (unless asked): Food. If the host(s) asks you to bring something, go ahead. If not, there's always the risk that you're imposing on their plans, or that you might bring something they don't want to touch with a 9 foot Q-tip.

Something to never, never, never do because it's astoundingly rude and will display your poor taste and cad-like behavior for all to see: Whatever you bring, to whomever you bring it, whether they're close family/friends or mere acquaintances, never take back your gift! Is the wine unopened, the beer un-enjoyed, the flowers sitting sans vase on the kitchen counter? Leave them! But here we come across what can be a vexing situation: Does your host ask you to take the gift back with you since it was unused (I do not say the host should do this, but it could happen possibly if the people are very close friends or family)? If so, the proper thing to do is to decline: "Oh no, that's for you to enjoy whenever you wish." If the host says, "No really," say, "No please, it's a gift." If the host asks a third time or pushes the gift into your hands and hurls you out the front door, take it. But give them at least 2 chances to keep your gift--the host might be making the offer merely to be polite. Still, if at all reasonably possible, do not take your wine/beer/gin/flowers back home with you. Now, it does happen at family feasts that the food is portioned out, and this is legit (ditto for flowers if the host wishes it). But even then, this does not, in my opinion, apply to items such as bottles of anything (opened or not)--a bottle of drink is always understood to be a gift for the host.

I should add that such rude behavior should be interpreted in the best possible light. Many of us grew up learning proper etiquette, others of us learned later in life, and lots of people never learned at all, or simply have a dulled sense of what is proper due to this insane world we live in where good behavior is tossed aside like rubbish, and at best bad behavior is winked at with an indulgent eye by many.

And now, go "party like it's 1999!"

Toodle-pip, Happy Thanksgiving, and an early Merry Christmas!

Speak Softly and Carry a Big Stick

2010-11-16T17:57:00.007-05:00

Most of you have probably heard this phrase, as uttered by that intrepid, tough, red-blooded American chap who could actually prove he was born in the USA and who even grew up here: Obama! Ah, no, sorry, got my notes mixed up. Right, here's the bird: Teddy Roosevelt!

Well, if you've ever wished you had a large stick with which to clobber over-bearing dogs or people, have I got good news for you!

But first, let's define the terms. When we say "walking stick" what do we mean? Here are 3 examples of what we are not talking about:

The first two, of course, are excellent choices if one is elderly or infirm. The third is also an excellent choice if one is elderly and infirm and also the size of an ant. Granted, the third option is a remote contingency, but one can never be too careful. Be prepared for every eventuality, that's what I say; it's always the thing you don't expect to happen that often happens.

Here is what we are talking about (the following walking sticks and lots more types can be found at www.irishwalkingsticks.com:

For the country or a walk at the park:

For an evening in the city:

For weather of the damper variety:

For every day elegance (the handle on this one is 14k gold plate; they have handles on some sticks that are solid 14k gold):

Now I know, as many of you no doubt do as well, that the recent prevailing trend has been that walking sticks of almost any sort, except for the first three listed in this post, are reserved for the more eccentric of gentlemen. The only exception has been the country walking stick, where one is liable to encounter over-friendly creatures that want to maim an innocent fellow taking an innocent walk. Of course, one could almost add the long handled umbrella as an acceptably "non-eccentric' walking stick as well, but at least from what I've seen, I'm the only one who thus employs it in our fair city.

So what to do? How is it that such an awesome looking and truly practical accessory such as the walking stick has fallen not only into disuse, but into that terrible pit where splendid, classic gentlemanly wares sometimes end their days, a category known as "the terrible pit where splendid, classic gentlemanly wares sometimes end their days." In this pit are such items as the top hat and, yes, the walking stick. And yet I dare say the walking stick is more able to hold it's own as a daily article than the top hat.

In fact, the walking stick is not only more likely than the top hat to make a resurgence as a commonly used item, it is an item that I think ought to, well, resurge. Why ought it resurge? I think the whole thing is rather like the Fedora situation. Hats, perhaps especially the Fedora, are indeed being seen again with frequency, crawling out of above mentioned pit with steel resolution. The Fedora was perfectly set for such a comeback for a variety of reasons: it has no specific niche, so it's a great every day hat, working with nice casual ensembles as well as pretty darn snappy ensembles; it has real style; Indiana Jones wears one. The walking stick has its own reasons for exiting the pit of sartorial doom: the walking stick, too, conveys real style; one can whack badly behaved animals and people; one can easily push aside brush and tree branches in the woods; it gives some extra support to the legs and back; Indiana Jones wears one.

But the biggest objection to the walking stick is, "I'll look like an old man, or an invalid." Well now, does Bertram Wooster look like an old man or invalid with his walking stick? Does Sherlock Holmes? The fact is, you can tell when someone has a walking aid as opposed to a walking stick, not only because of the style being employed, as is often the case, but by a fellow's gait: A lad jauntily bounding down a city street or country field with stick in hand is a far cry from either the old or young invalid.

And like many things, it's seen as eccentric merely because it's so little employed; and that is, to my mind at least, an absurd reason to avoid something with as much panache, dernier cri and commonsensical handiness as the walking stick.

Finally, we would be remiss if we didn't include the ladies. Here is a smashing example from 1922 of a lady with an exceedingly practical version of the walking stick:

All the better because of its non-political correctness: Yes, it has a flask built into the handle, the better to carry a spot of drink, alcoholic. They still make these wondrous walking sticks complete with flask, and I have no idea if it's legal to actually carry it about on the streets filled with the real tobasco. Then again, that wasn't legal in 1922, either. Anyway, check your local laws before use out of the home. Or fill it with water. I know, not the same, is it.

Well, with hidden flask or without, with a hidden sword or umbrella, the walking stick is a magnificent addition to the well-dressed gentleman's wardrobe, an elegant finishing touch. In closing, here are a few more photographic examples...

Hercule Poirot, True Gentleman

2010-09-13T11:38:00.001-04:00

Hercule Poirot, the man with the "little gray cells," a Belgian chap as brilliant a detective as he is a fastidious dresser and a true gentleman. If you've never watched a Hercule Poirot film with David Souchet as Poirot, you're in for a real treat. And the more episodes one sees, the more one appreciates this character created by Agatha Christie. You may even decide to grow a handlebar mustache after watching it. I know of one fellow who, after watching it every day for a week, simply woke up with such a mustache; it's a powerful show. But I digress. No, wait, I don't! But I'll get to that.

First, the ensemble of Poirot. Voila:

First, note the pocket square. Now I've been sporting, for some years now, a pocket square with a tri-fold at the top. I've rarely seen it folded this way, and one wants to stand out a bit, have a dash of individual character. But look at Poirot's pocket square--perfectly, absolutely straight. It looks awesome. But it doesn't stand on its own, oh no--consider the suit: Poirot's suit is creased to perfection, and fits him like the proverbial glove; the straight pocket square highlights this well-fitting suit. And it doesn't end there. Such a pocket square-fold fits the neatness of the ensemble that is created by wearing a three-piece suit. Imagine the above photo sans vest. It wouldn't appear half so elegant, not at all so complete, without the vest.

Now, let us move to the flower. It's the perfect size and the perfect color, complimenting the suit and the man without being at all obtrusive.

And lastly, the tie. I've always had a great respect for the bow-tie. On some lads it looks smashing. It fits them somehow. For yours truly, I wear a neck tie. But the type of bow-tie that Poirot wears has me reconsidering. Sort of. First, Poirot's bow tie is not the kind you see worn by Orville Redenbacker, the Popcorn guy, nor is it the kind of bow-tie worn in our time with tuxedo. That's not the sort of look I'm wanting to cultivate. On the contrary, Poirot's bow tie is thicker, much thicker around the collar, with a shirt whose collar does not fold over to cover the tie band, and to wrap it up his ties always have subtle yet interesting patterns; and still we must come back to the vest--without a vest, a bow tie looks...well...small, and, I dare say, silly...bordering on ridiculous (unless the suit jacket is buttoned up, but even then, there's too much blank space between shirt and tie). But the Poirot-style! I think it would work on well nigh any gentleman willing to try it, with or without handlebar mustache.

Which brings me to the non-digressing digression. A poll! Handlebar mustaches, yes or no? I've done a bit of research recently and they seem to be making a comeback. Still, a scientific poll the likes of which we can achieve here and no where else will surely tell us if this is a real trend or not.

With that, toodle-pip gentlemen...

Spring Time, Evil Flip-Sides and Pocket Squares

2010-05-13T14:51:00.019-04:00

A merry Spring to you, one and all! First, my apologies for the lack of recent, er, postage. Why, you ask? No, I'm not dead. More like general laziness, waking up at around 2 PM most days, and weeks at a shot spent at the manor houses in the English Countryside, aided by my trusty valet. That's the official version anyway. Nearer to the truth is an incessant and increasingly annoying job search (and if you're looking for a job you know that it's well-nigh impossible to even find jobs for which to apply), constant sickness for two months in the Well-Dressed Gentleman's household, and myriad events on the calendar.

But back to business. It's Spring. I don't know about you, but in the depths of winter I find myself retreating to classy sweaters in place of the jacket and tie. Indeed, I'm sure all we who live in places that turn into freezers 3.5 months out of the year, at some point after the thrill of a Winter Wonderland has worn off, open the front door and shout into the frigid air (or Frigidaire) "Alas, temperate weather of Spring, Summer and Autumn, I hardly knew ye!" No more! The time for dressing to the nines is surely here, with no need to worry about filthy slush mucking up one's ensemble, and no need to don a heavy coat, scarf, hat and gloves over a suit to walk outdoors. You can just walk outside, sans the extra layers, and the immediate result is that you strike people as a Well-Dressed Gentleman right off the bat.

But there is an evil, vile side to this glorious weather. No, not the rain; rain brings out a light and dashing rain coat with a snappy umbrella. I'm talking of a horrid and true laziness/casualness that possesses some men, and leads them to go about in shorts, flip-flops, and even, possibly, a cut-off t-shirt. One wants to say:

"Look pal, do us all a favor--put some clothes on. We don't want to see your dirty feet, your silly legs, or poor style. Neither do women. It just looks bad. So knock it off. And you may as well grow up while you're at it."

I mean, you can make up your own words. But you don't really need words. The simple contrast will make any man of conscience second guess his style choices. If they don't, no words will likely help. Now I'm not talking about the pool or beach, back yard or in one's-own-house situation. It's the rest of the time, and honestly, it's disrespectful to the rest of the human race to dress that way. That's one of the reasons for this website--dressing well shows respect for ourselves and for those around us.

Which brings us, in a bit of a jarring segue, to pocket squares. The results of the poll show that some gents just don't employ them and they don't care who knows it. The smallest number think you need a tie for a pocket square to be present; the greatest number say if there's a pocket, it needs a friend; and the middle group think it just depends on the circs. These are highly scientific studies, and we would be wise to heed or not heed them. For me, I had thought that a tie was necessary for the old pocket square to be sitting in that breast pocket. And no, I didn't taint the poll with my own vote. But now? I don't know. I asked Will Dynend about this (see his site, A Suitable Wardrobe) , because he is a real expert. I don't think he'll mind if I post his reply to me: "You're an idiot." Ah, wrong reply. Sorry about that. Right, here it is: "If you have a breast pocket it should have a handkerchief in it, tie or no tie. Whether men should walk around with open shirt collars is another topic entirely." So in all humility, I can only say that there's a good chance my theory on this is off kilter. Of course, so much of these details are opinion, and kilter one way or the other. But Will has a better sense of this than I do, I'd say.

That's it for now. Cheerio gents, enjoy the weather!

Happy Saint Patrick's Day

2010-03-16T14:37:00.001-04:00

Saint Patrick. Drove evil out of Ireland. Irish (well, he went to Ireland and lived there).

A merry St. Patrick's Day to you, gentlemen. Be good. Drink some Guinness. Or Harp. I'll be drinking one of each. St. Patrick, may all we men be true gentlemen.

(Could this here post be any more filled with short, choppy sentences? Probably. So I'll stop here, and raise my glass to ye. Cheers!)

Post Script: Don't forget to play the song at the right top side o' the page.

Nice tie--too bad you only finished half the knot

2010-03-16T14:09:00.006-04:00

From one G H we have received the following twisted inquiry:

“I have a question regarding your thoughts on the knots that one uses with one's ties. When I first learned to tie the tie, I of course learned the half-windsor. Sometime thereafter I became a Full Windsor man, through and through. I would even scoff at the Half Windsor fellows. However, in the past year I have switched over to the Four in Hand. I find the knot much less ostentatious. My only quibble is that it has a tendency to be slightly off-center.

Anyway, what knots do you prefer/recommend? What are your thoughts on the knots that I've mentioned? What knots should one never use? I look forward to your wit and wisdom on this issue.

Good day to you sirs!

G H”

GH, there is much in what you say. In fact, you have perhaps opened a veritable Pandora's box of knots for neck-ties (Pandora's box was actually filled with bow ties, as the Greek mythologies tell us). Amazingly, there are a total of 85 ways to tie a tie—yes, a plethora of knots—as discovered by Thomas Fink and Yong Mao. These lads are physicists at the University of Cambridge, and in 1999 they published a book entitled "The 85 Ways To Tie a Tie. The Science and Aesthetics of Tie Knots." A mere thirteen of these knots are “aesthetic” (make a shape smashing enough to twist your tie into), and they are as follows:

Four-in-hand
Windsor
Half-Windsor
Kelvin
Oriental
Nicky
Victoria
St. Andrew
Plattsburgh
Cavendish
Grantchester
Hanover
Balthus

[See To Tie A Tie for directions on creating the above civilized tangles]

The knot I personally prefer, however, is the good old Four-in-hand. It's versatile, and considered the most attractive by many. Why it looks smashing: The longish shape of the knot lengthens the aspect of the throat area. Why it's versatile: One's tie can be of a thin or thick material, and yet the knot works with either type. You're is also in good company sporting the Four-in-hand, re, the Duke of Windsor. Sure, the Windsor knot is named after him, and the half Windsor is named after half of him, but— according to photographic evidence—it seems his ties were twisted into the Four-in-hand knot. The reasons his tie knots were so thick was not (no pun intended) because of the Windsor knot, but that his ties had a rather thick lining. It's more like he wore the Windsor not (OK, that was a deliberate and maybe even an incorrigible pun).

The Windsor knot does have it's place though, however limited in practice: One really needs a tie of quite thin material, and a shirt with a “cutaway” collar. Now, don't get yourself twisted into a Plattsburgh about this—I speak of ideal situations and circumstances. That is to say, I like the Windsor, even though it isn't my favorite, and even though it has somewhat limited applicability; it looks best, perhaps, in a business or political setting.

Which brings me to one final note on the Windsor: For all its symmetry, and for that reason I think, it lacks character somewhat. Which is why so many politicians prefer it.

The Four-in-hand seems to me to have more character in it's size, in the seeming elongation of the throat area that it creates, its adaptability, and the way you can insert variations into the folds of the tie just under the knot (as with other knots, though the Windsor seems more staid and thus the tie is pretty much flat from the bottom all the way up to the knot). And 4-in-h fits any occasion. And an actual Duke wore it.

What knots would I never wear? The Gordian knot tops the list as knots to never ever wear, under any circumstances. The only person ever to undo it is not only dead I'm pretty sure (Alexander the Great), but the only way he could get the knot undone was to whack it with his sword. No thanks. Second, a badly tied knot of any sort—if it comes out not quite right, I redo it. I imagine most gents do though. After that, I suppose the non-aesthetic knots, and after that—well, I am not averse to any of the 13 known aesthetic knots, of which I am aware at any rate. I admit, I haven't tried them all, and I may find some of them despicable. Then again, I may like them all.

But let's not end on such a serious note. What do you call an emperor who goes about thwacking people with neck ties? An imperial tie fighter.

Cheerio, gentlemen!

Harris Tweed II

2010-03-01T17:19:00.000-05:00

On the old website you may notice a new comment with yesterday's Harris Tweed post. It is from Justin Luddington, and I draw attention to it because he has an opinion on the matter that is worthy of merit:

"I myself am of the school of thought that a breast pocket will weep in solitude without a pocket square -- tie or no. I would also advocate a silk or similarly sheened square with tweed, to contrast the textures and balance the sometimes overpowering heaviness of tweed."

Now, while I maintain my opinion on the matter, it is just that, my opinion. I have been known to be wrong before, and it has been known to happen that someone will have a better idea than I. Yeah, I know, it sounds like crazy talk, but it's true.

But what do you think, venerable gentlemen? Behold! A new poll... is a pocket square dependent on a tie, in most circumstances anyway?

Harris Tweed and WDG Style Theory

2010-02-26T17:46:00.014-05:00

From one Mr. RB we've received a timely (due to the apparently permanent and constantly thicker white color scheme of the USA) and crucial inquiry about that wondrous fabric known as Harris Tweed:

"Dear Sir,

I favor Harris Tweed sport jackets, usually with no tie.
Would a pocket square be appropriate with such a coarse weave and sans tie?
What about with a bow-tie?

Thanks!

RB."

This is a very good question indeed.

I have two Harris Tweed sport jackets myself, sometimes worn with a tie, sometimes not. With a tie, I employ a cotton pocket square or handkerchief--it's thick enough to match the heaviness of tweed, but not so heavy as to look like I stuck a piece of carpet in my pocket. A thick silk (knitted silk, for example) handkerchief would also work.

Forsooth, that's one of the basic tenets of men's fashion--matching the basic elemental components of one's ensemble: the colors, the patterns, the fabrics, and so on.

Onto the tie/no tie part of your question. Without a tie, I would advise not donning the pocket square, and there's an interesting reason for this: "Tie Theory." This is a theory that says some things depend on a tie for their existence; for example, a pocket square, a boutonniere (button hole), and the obvious tie clip or tie chain. There's little use scouring the internet or literature on men's style and fashion for this theory, at least by name, because I just invented it, and as far as I know I am the first one to do so (I may as well lay claim to it now). Thus, when worn alone, these "dependent embellishments" (to coin another term), such as a pocket square or button hole, give the impression that a fellow is either astoundingly forgetful (perhaps due to having neglected the morning tea or coffee, resulting in an acute and shocking lack of mental awareness) or lacking in fashion sense.

Now, if you're wearing a tie with your tweed sports jacket I would say that the pocket square isn't as important as it would be for a non-tweed suit, since tweed is a more relaxed matter; nevertheless, even with the more casual suit or jacket of tweed, a pocket square is one of those details that sets one apart from the crowd.

Two quick final notes. One, why not a bow tie? The world could use more gentlemen wearing bow ties. Two, a tie worn with tweed, bow tie or otherwise, should be a weight that matches the heaviness of the tweed and of the pocket square. Consistency in a gentleman's ensemble is, in my book, essential. Everything should be cohesive, so that people will say, "There's a man who has it all together!"

Business as un-Usual

2010-01-20T21:35:00.001-05:00

If you're like me, you may have noticed that over the past several decades the standard that most businesses operate under is this: Forget quality, forget the customer, and make money. I am not against making money. As some of the readers of this website know, I currently find myself without employment, and God willing I will soon be bringing home more of the happy cabbage, the do-re-me, the green stuff. No, it's the rest of the current business standards that I find fault with. Buy almost anything these days and whatever it is will last anywhere from 1 minute to just over one year (while the warranty expired at month 12, and sorry, but your microwave, dishwasher, light fixture, lawnmower, etc died or broke at month 13; too bad).

Back in the day, meaning in this example the 1950's and 1960's, my grandfather--a very good man--started an oil business that earned he and his family millions of dollars. But in so doing he always put people at the top--he gave them the best quality and service he could because he knew that people have dignity. Once, at least, there was a family that had kids, but could not pay their oil bill. Their home was heated with oil. He let them have the oil free of charge until they could afford to pay him again. Today, with most any energy company, the heat would have been turned off, kids or not.

My Dad is another of those very good men, those very rare men. He operated a business (in this case a psychology practice) by putting people first, often enough helping people who couldn't afford help free of charge.

There are still a few small businesses like this. Maybe even one or two big ones. And I know of some. I would like to mention one in particular in this here post: Broker's Gin.

I saw this gin recently, and resolved to buy some when I was next in need of a bottle of the clear fragrant stuff. Why? A) It's made in England; and B) the bottle has a mini-Bowler hat on the cap. Not to mention the image of a well-dressed gentleman on the label. The whole effect says, with an English accent, "Try Broker's Gin! You won't be sorry."

And sorry I was not. Broker's Gin is the best gin I have ever had.

It is better than Bombay Sapphire, Beefeater, Gordon's, Tanquery, etc. Not only that, it costs only 17 bucks, as opposed to 35 bucks for a bottle of Bombay Sapphire of the same size. I was so impressed that I did something I almost never do--I wrote an email to the company to tell them thanks. No ulterior motive, no complaints, just "thanks." Thanks for making a great, world class product at a price that is not an insult, indeed at a price that makes me think they are taking a bit of a hit selling it at that price; indeed I gather from Andy that they know the price could be higher--but for them that's not the point, the point is that they want to make a great gin at a price that is fair and reasonable and accessible. They take real pride in their gin artistry and treat their customers with: Dignity.

You may have gathered that it gets even more impressive. They didn't send me a form letter--nope, instead one of the founders/owners emailed me back. In the course of our emails, I discovered that not only are they themselves well-dressed gentlemen, they are trying, as am I in my own small way, to bring back the Bowler hat. Through Andy Dawson, I was even put in contact with a hat shop where perhaps I can obtain a good Bowler hat (Frank Sinatra shopped here as well--the shop has no website though, you have to go there: Batsakes Hat Shop; Gus Miller, proprietor; 605 Walnut Street, Cincinnati, Ohio 45202; Phone 513.721.9345).

Next time you need some gin, try Broker's--you won't be sorry. And no, I'm getting nothing from writing this--no free gin, no money, no profits, only the pleasure of being able to recommend not only a great product, but a great company run by great people.

Andy and Martin Dawson--thanks, lads. Cheers!

A Real Daiquiri, courtesy of Alton Brown

2009-12-15T21:37:00.001-05:00

How to make a real daiquiri, thanks to that great celebrity chef and food expert, Alton Brown. This recipe, and others like it, can be found at the Food Network website. Enjoy this clean, sweet drink. Cheers!

Ingredients
2 cups crushed ice, plus extra for chilling glass
2 ounces light rum
1-ounce freshly squeezed lime juice, strained of pulp
1/2-ounce Simple Syrup, recipe follows
Directions

If your glass is not chilled, do so by placing some crushed ice in it and set it aside while you prepare the cocktail.

Place the 2 cups of crushed ice into a cocktail shaker. Pour the rum, lime juice, and simple syrup over the ice, cover, and shake well. Remove the ice from your serving glass and strain the drink into it. Serve immediately.

Simple Syrup:

2 cups sugar

1 cup water

Place the sugar and water into a small saucepan over high heat. Bring to a boil. Decrease the heat to medium and cook, stirring occasionally, until the sugar is completely dissolved, approximately 3 to 5 minutes. Remove from the saucepan and allow to cool completely. Syrup can be stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to a month.

Swag

2009-12-15T19:10:00.003-05:00

Almost as good as pirate loot, but without the stealing, murder, threat of drowning, or eating of maggot infested beef. Behold: Swagbucks! A search engine, powered by Google, which doles out "swagbucks" as you search the Internet. Sometimes you get 1, sometimes you get 3, 5 or more. Not on every search mind you, but you can get a few a day. And it's not fake swag, either--once you build up anywhere from 1 to several hundred or thousand you can buy real things. For example, for every 45 or so swagbucks you can buy a $5.00 Amazon card to buy any gentlemanly apparel, books or gadgets you like. I heard of one woman who earned enough to buy a new Apple laptop. We here earned enough swagbucks to get about $100 or so worth of Amazon gift cards, with which we did a good deal of our Christmas shopping.

Swagbucks: Brilliant! Just click SWAGBUCKS and start earning. Happy looting!

(And no, there's no catch, nothing to buy, or try, or any nonsense like that--search, earn swagbucks, earn gift cards to participating stores and the like. That's it.)

Well, actually...

2009-12-15T17:05:00.002-05:00

Lads, it's time. Yeah, you know what for. No, don't say it! Do not say "Actually, I don't," because that's just the trouble. No, the trouble isn't that you don't know what I'm talking about, the trouble is that you "actually" don't know.

Here's the thing: From Isaac Laughlyn we have this observation: "People are always adding the word 'actually' to 98.3 % of their verbiage. Why won't they stop? Stop! WDG, what do you think?"

I actually think you're right. And in examining the foregoing sentence we will see that the word "actually" is what linguistic scholars and school children call redundant. All one has to say is, " I think you're right." Do I actually think that? Yes--otherwise why would I say it at all? As Bertie Wooster would say, "Expunge the word actually from your vocabulary."

This also applies to the word "literally." As in, "I was riding my bike and I literally crashed right into that street mime." Once again: Redundant! Either you did or did not run over a mime with your bike (one would hope you did, but that's beside the point). There is no need to add "literally" unless there is serious reason to suppose that others will think you're speaking figuratively about running into that mime with your bike.

Finally, we cannot forget the phrase, "A whole 'nother." For starters, there is no word "'nother." But even if there were such a word, 'nother would be a contraction of "another," thus producing the phrase "A whole another," which doesn't make a lick of sense. What is meant here is, of course, "A whole other." Sure, it isn't the best phraseology, but at least it actually makses sense, literally.

Gentlemen, we ought to speak as clearly, chivalrously and with as little redundancy and grammatical daftness as possible, for the sake of our listeners and in order to educate the masses, as gentlemen should do by their very example.

Christmas on the Front, 1914

2009-12-10T16:07:00.005-05:00

But it was the right response--gentlemen may be compelled to fight, and they hopefully fight honorably, but a gentleman knows that Christmas is not the time to be fighting. It's, well, Christmas.

With that in mind, please take a listen to one of the best, least played and most under-rated Christmas carols of all time, "Snoopy's Christmas." It's located at the top right of this page.

A Merry Christmas to you all, and a Happy New Year!

Cowboys and gentlemen

2009-11-09T16:08:00.007-05:00

Well, there have been numerous comments on the whole cowboy/gentlemen issue, and it will take a good bit of sartorial verbalizing to untie such a tangle.

But first, allow me to apologize for the lengthy absence. In a nutshell: layoffs. In particular, I'm concerned with the one of which I was on the receiving end. So I've been looking for a job, emphasis on looking. The finding aspect is elusive.

Nevertheless, there are many and varied gentlemanly topics to consider, and consider them we shall! I'm putting together, during what I hope is not going to be my very lengthy free-time, new posts. Coming soon...

[For some reason the font for this post simply will not do what I tell it to do. Hopefully this will be rectified for the next post]

Suspending the Old Belly

2009-09-14T20:27:00.001-04:00

From an alert and knowledgable reader, we've recently recieved this:

Suspenders dear sir were the illogical logical development of some simpleminded ungentlemanly gentleman who to chose to mask their overeating by "creating" a novel style of dress,i.e. suspenders, which in effect are not different for belts except one is vertical and one is horizontal. Suspenders of course can stretch to accommodate the, well, the overly large person's ability to remain dressed, at least from the waist down. Suspenders did not come first, belts came first. Stylists did do a good job though in convincing many men that it was the "proper" dress. Of course the "real" gentleman continues to use a belt.

Well he's right of course--belts have been used for thousands of years, whereas suspenders were invented in the late-ish 1800's. Suspenders do make for more comfort when one has a belly growing out of all due proportion.

But that doesn't completely answer the question. Are suspenders to be totally checked off the list of sartorially correct items of gentlemanliness? I would say no, for three reasons:

1) Suspenders allow the wearer greater freedom of movement without much fear that one's shirt or pants will move out of place. Suspenders hold the pants precisely where they should be; with belts, if not quite tight, the pants could sink with much movement, which could also lead to the shirt becoming de-tucked here and there.

2) Suspenders have become an acceptable sartorial item.

3) More than ever, there are lads with, er, baggage in the stomach department.

Disagree? Agree? Don't let the lads sit in suspense, tell us what you think.

Pip-pip!

Gin for a Martini

2009-09-14T19:38:00.006-04:00

A martini requires good gin. Cheap gin may be fine for drinks that are heavily mixed with other elements, but a martini is mostly gin—there’s no where for it to hide. Thankfully, good gin can be had even on a fairly tight budget.

It’s not Beef Eater or Bombay Sapphire, but this one is really good: Burnette’s. It’s about $11 for a one liter bottle. There are gins that are about $8 per liter, but they just don’t do the trick. Burnette’s is great, and it won’t bankrupt your funds.

Gordon’s is also good, and just a few dollars more—around $14, and it has two royal seals (the Queen's and the Queen Mother's).

With these gins you'll be making some wonderful martinis. Don't forget vermouth--Martini & Rossi is great, and blessedly, vermouth lasts a long time (1-3 drops, tops, per martini).

Oh, as for olives: if you put in black olives instead of green you've made a "Buckeye," which is great if you live in Ohio. Add a cocktail onion instead of olives and you've got yourself a Gibson.

Cowboys and Gentlmen Aborgines

2009-08-31T17:40:00.006-04:00

Recently I received this question: “What about cowboys? Cowboys are gentlemen, too.”

This is one of those “loaded” type questions. For one thing, I would hate to answer in such a way that I insult a cowboy, only to end up getting shot by an irate, probably Texan, cowboy. For another, their style of dress is truly of another culture—I may as well be giving advice on the manner of dress and etiquette of the Australian Aborigine. And for a third thing, and most important, my father asked this question, he’s a Texan, may have a gun, and he’s an Australian Aborigine.

No, wait! Scratch that last part. I meant he’s sort of like a cowboy. So how on earth does one answer such a question? Tell the truth I guess—cowboys appreciate the truth, I think.

So, the truth: Being a cowboy, or a Texan, or an Aborigine, does not rule out being a gentleman, like being a pirate would. What really differs here is culture. What's appropriate in London may be totally different on a ranch, or city out in the West, or with a group of Aborigines in the Outback. But the point is all cultures have their accepted etiquette and appropriate style of dress. It’s apples and kiwis*: Both great fruit, but kiwi is just not my cup of tea; ditto for Western, Cowboy-type style: bolo ties, cowboy boots, cowboy hats, definitely not for me—but they are for a gentleman cowboy or Aborigine.

As for etiquette, cowboys developed a rather Victorian/chivalric code, and put a good deal of emphasis on honesty. "One has one's honor," I think a cowboy would say. In essence, a cowboy's etiquette is a gentleman's etiquette, wrapped up in a somewhat different sartorial package.

So--a cowboy gentlemen? Indubitably.

There is one lingering question--would cowboys rather drink tequila/a Margarita, or a Martini? I fear it's the former. Well, no gentleman is perfect I suppose, strictly speaking.

*No actual cowboys, Aborigines, Texans or kiwis were hurt in the writing of this post.

Oh, the Horror!

2009-08-20T20:25:00.038-04:00

Some articles of gentlemanly clothing cause people to stare.

Others are fodder for comment, such as, "My dear fellow, you look like an ass." This has nothing to do with how a donkey dresses, although, compared to some, they dress rather dapper; no, it has to do with a stubbornness that leads a fellow to dress like a lad that missed 12 out of the 13 required classes at clown school. That's not to suggest that clowns dress well; let us not even ponder mimes (suffice to say, some theologians suggest that mimes are a direct result of original sin).

Then there is the rare article of clothing that has an explosive effect: women scream, swoon, even faint; men walk by with wide eyes, mouths agape, grumbling about propriety and the good ol' days; children either laugh, run away, or have their eyes covered by their mums hands (unless they fainted, in which case the tots have their eyes covered by an invisible wall, courtesy the nearest mime). The whole dashed thing is scandalous! Crowds have gathered, and so have the police. Nice going, Mr. John Hetherington. Was it worth it? All this fuss because you just had to wear that new creation of yours--The Top Hat.

Gentlemen, I'm afraid the above tale is true, and in fact took place in the 1840's. Yes, once in a while, a London hat maker--perhaps because of the thick, yellow air of coal fires and gas light--would go off his onion. I mean, have any of them, in modern times, come up with some fruity, corker of an idea for a new hat style? No, not a one really, not since the advent of wide-spread electrical use. Coincidence?

It doesn't matter. The point is this--are any one of us fool enough to wear a top hat today--not for a wedding, not with morning dress, but with an everyday suit of some sort--probably with a bow tie? I admit, I would love to wear a top hat--like Sherlock Holmes, or even Watson for goodness sakes. I mean, you look at painting or photos from back in the day and they're wearing toppers, and they look awesome. Debonair, dashing, powerful, in a word, manly. Sadly, the only modern examples I can think of, who wear a top hat of some type, outside of the usual very formal occasions, are rock singers, most of whom strike me as not exactly the gentlemanly type.

Here are some old photos and prints of gentlemen of yester-year, complete with the "there's no school like old school" topper...

Below is Howard Carter, the archaeologist who found King Tut

Oh, and John Hetherington? He was arrested, fined 50 pounds, a huge pile 'o money back then, and a law was passed that forbade anyone from wearing a top hat in public--because nervous people, children, the overly timid, and those with heart conditions and high cholesterol may suffer harm. The rest is history. But can it come back? It's tough enough to bring the everyday Fedora back, not to mention the Bowler...but the topper? Maybe...may...be...

Restaurants, Charlemagne, a Beautiful Woman—all in one post!

2009-08-08T21:04:00.031-04:00

And Jackets, too! May as well admit that sartorial faux pas right up front. In a previous post, on overcoats, the term “jacket” somehow snuck in. How? I’ve no idea. Sometimes posts get written and edited at 11:00 pm or later, when my hands continue to type long after I’ve fallen into sweet slumber. Anyway, an alert and knowledgeable gent brought this to my attention—not the part about me sleeping and typing at the same time, I mean the other thing, using the term “jacket” to describe—yes—an overcoat. He’s right of course—a jacket goes to the hips or waist, and an overcoat goes far beyond that, unless you’re 12 feet tall and they don’t make jackets in your size, in which case a jacket and an overcoat become one in the same. But no, let us not blur the lines of precise sartorial terminology with hypothetical what’s-its.

Rather, consider this—and I think I must have mentioned this before, at least in passing, but last night’s trip to a fairly decent restaurant brought it to my mind again; it was hardly possible for it not to come to mind again, because it’s maddening, astounding, and laughable all at the same instant—there sits a beautiful woman, dressed beautifully besides, and across from him sits some guy wearing a t-shirt, and if she is particularly lucky, he is wearing pants of some sort rather than shorts. His whole demeanor is that of a child out to dinner with his mum (or in Egypt, his mummy). And I can’t help but think—what is taking our food so long? Once the carpaccio and shrimp and drinks arrive it's then that the old brain restarts, and looking about I realize there's not just one couple like this, there are bunches of them! And then I think, what the heck is wrong with these guys? Where are all the gentlemen? And—lest we be deficient in our terms—we should always remember that a gentlemen is no ninny, and he's not someone whose gentlemanliness is simply found in his fine and dapper attire. A gentleman is a man. I know, I’m missing a good bit of the definition of “gentleman,” but bear with me—I’ve recently received a complimentary copy of The Compleat Gentleman in exchange for a review, and there are splendid definitions of “gentleman” in this book. So far it is a magnificent read, and I'll be sharing some of these definitions sometime soon. Anyway, for our purposes, I stress a gentleman is a MAN, not a ninny, not a immature boy whose development has been delayed by a few decades, not a chap who has no respect for his appearance or for the lady who is sitting across from him ,enduring all with womanly patience and restraint.

Perhaps, however, these fellows are all severely vision impaired, I don't know. Or maybe they want to dress like men did circa 800 AD, when baths were far and few between, they had just come in from fields at 9 in the eve, and being exhausted with honest toil hadn't the energy to put on the tails and topper. Granted, they dressed a bit different back in 800 or so AD; their t-shirts sported pictures of Charlemagne rather than their favorite baseball team. But I'm sure you understand what I'm saying--these modern guys have no reason to dress like slobs.

To make matters worse, some times these lads even refuse to take their (usually baseball) hats off at the table! Now, if anyone has a right to keep his hat on at the table, it would be me--these guys almost always have dashing heads of hair under those hats, whereas I now have a dashing head. And no one will find me wearing a hat at the table.

I'm afraid I've no solution to the problem either. Maybe--just maybe--if on the way out of the restaurant we walk by those tables, and, looking at the beautiful lady, say something like, "You have a very well-behaved son," or "Your friend here looks like an ass," things will change. It may of course not be the change you want--it could well be the badly dressed bloke will change your face for the worse. Maybe, though, a discreet sympathetic look towards the lady would do the trick.

And now, I must take off the old overcoat jacket thing, put on the pajamas and head to bed before my hands start typing about baseball Fedoras...