It's still cold as ever here inside the Beltway. You'd think with all the hot air blowing off the Hill that things would be temperate here in the 'hood. No way-we continue to dress for survival and wouldn't you know it-my Polo Ralph Camel Hair overcoat will be ready tomorrow and the temps will now hit close to fifty over the weekend.
On the south end of this rig we pulled out the trusty old Belgians. Haven't worn them in a month as the ground has been mostly receptive to Red Wing and LL Bean boots. Welcome back Belgians.
Earlier in the week saw a more professorial rig. I've had this bow tie since college. The shirt-diagonality-Flusser style.
Conservative socks and shoddings-can't remember when I rolled so traditionally "down there". Cordovan shoe conundrum. Polish? Brown-Neutral? Nope-I went with Mid-Tan. A million bucks says you can't guess the carpet.
And finally:
1. Pray for Haiti. I think praying for the dead is a silly waste of time. Praying for the country-praying for the rescuers-praying for the bereaved families-that's what I'm doing.
2. I lied. In an effort to smoke my buddy Toad out of hibernation I streteched the truth about my corduroy shawl collared rig. I bought it ten years ago in Chelsea at a vintage tog shop-for seven pounds.
Onward-uvulationally.
ADG
First Merkin dies on me. Now Toad quits blogging. Toad was the most sincere, grumpy, honest, transparent and coolest blogger I’ve encountered. I loved his honesty. His common sense-I’m certain-a result of the same kind of journey I’m in the midst of-not always being the smartest and doing the right thing every time but learning lessons along the way when you falter. I hope I’m as cool as Toad when I’m a few years further down the road. The man even admitted to owning a Vega in the 1970’s. Even though-according to the Toad himself-it was a “Cosworth”. I’m laughing again right now.
Toad acted a few months ago on an idea that I’d been knocking around in my head forever. A shawl collar odd jacket-sport coat-something that you could wear in very different ways.
I could never quite get my mind around it until I saw Toad’s finished product.
My latest boondoggle-a deep wine-burgundy corduroy shawl collared jacket is a Toad inspired. I’ll wear this with jeans and to holiday cocktail parties as a formal jacket.
So Toad-even though you’ve evaporated, every time I pull this folly out of the closet-your "Honest Rolling" presence will be right with me old buddy.
I hadn’t owned a Patch Madras sport coat since undergrad. Thanks to Toad, Paul at Sorrentolens and I lined right up and followed his lead on patch mad procurement.
About my winter GTH pants Toad said:
"Looks like the seat covers from a 73 Maverick. Have you seen the patch mad pants in the new Orvis catalog? Not bad."
About my going through the proverbial three boxes the other week-this one rolled in from Toad…
"I understand your divorce story all too well. The day, many years later when I ransacked that anxiety closet was the beginning of my adulthood.
Keep 'em comin mon ami"
Keep 'em comin mon ami"
Ode to Toad
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message Toad cannot be read.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
Toad was our North, our South, our East our West,
Our working week and our Sunday rest,
Our noon, our midnight, our talk, our song;
We thought that Toad would last forever: We were wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good
Scribbling on the sky the message Toad cannot be read.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
Toad was our North, our South, our East our West,
Our working week and our Sunday rest,
Our noon, our midnight, our talk, our song;
We thought that Toad would last forever: We were wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good
*Adapted from W. H. Auden’s Funeral Blues
WEL-Come on back Toad. There’s a bunch of us waiting on you.
Onward.
ADG
10 comments:
"Then sometimes I get worried and curl up in the fecal position and whimper. . ."
When I come across something fecal on the floor the dog starts whimpering. . . :-)
BAD typo no?
The rig is smashing. I'll guess the carpet is Philly International.
I don't care that you lied. Because it worked. We both got lucky on that one.
That's cold. I so want to live in that white suit. I look at it weekly, just to make certain it's still around.
BTW be kind to your new reader Shelley of Shelley's House. The poor girl is lost somewhere in England.
That outfit is really well put together - I'm going to try to "steal" some elements of it tomorrow.
Regarding polish for the cordovan - The alden cordovan paste is great stuff, and "the shoe mart" has it for 4.50 a (sizeable) jar, with free shipping. Mine came in 2 days.
http://www.theshoemart.com
Magic or mojo--Desperate times call for desperate measures-- whatever it takes and, I, for one, am forever grateful that you convinced Toad he was missed. Mornings begin as they should...Toad and coffee.
Brian....nope. It's the train in DC
Toad...I'm kind to everyone!
Capt. Mike...Incredible Alden inventory over there at that site.
Gail...Toad before ME? Please.
'Fraid so. I can spot a grump with a heart of gold a mile away.
You'll be there yourself one day. Listen and learn.
Whatever I was going to say just completely flew outta my head when I glanced over and saw Kathie's comment. God, I love that lady...XXOO
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