Angora Flat Front-Shoulda Stayed in Bed

While my blessings far outrank my challenges this has been one of those proverbial “weeks”. You know-one of those where you think that remaining in bed might have been a good choice for you and the world.

My two Christmas gifts from our half price friends at Polo Ralph in Chevy Chase were my stellar Camel Polo overcoat and my angora/lambs wool flannel blend-flat front-two button suit. Both of these discounted babies are as my baby LFG says….”cuddly”. The angora/lambs wool blend suit has an incredibly soft hand and today I decided to lift my inner and outer spirit by swathing myself in said suit.

I’d been kinda hankering for a flat front trouser suit for some time. I don’t wear suits very often and such a folly would be the last thing I’d have my wingmen at Flusser create for me. 

My suit trousers have always been “drape-y”. Not Oxford Bags “drape-y” but classically so. Worn high on the natural waist with full pleats and side tabs. That’s how I ordered my suit trousers when bespeaking them. And sometimes I’d really throw the trouser drama into high gear with the English Split Back-Fishtail treatment with center buckle in the small of the trouser back. Fuzzy Dice-ish? Probably-shut up.

Now I’m all for flat front trousers. But they are usually found in the guise of khaki-some linen-moleskin and corduroy. That’s where my mind’s eye had them slotted. But the flat front suit option intrigued me so when this one spiraled down to half-price I decided to deploy some of my Christmas bonus that direction. 

Tintin did a post a good while back on the classic old Polo bold patterned suits from the 1980’s and this one spoke a little bit of that decade to me. Actually it first whispered and then realizing that I can’t hear sh_t out of my left ear finally shouted at my country ass.

“Buy me…get me out of here before some sartorially unsophisticated sycophant siphons me off the mark down rack”. How could I not pounce on the bad boy after that?

So here we are. Cuddly as hell and obviously I’m still sporting the requisite flat stomach necessary to pull this look off and no-I don’t have that body girdle from the Sky Mall catalogue on under it. I’m not above it though. 

Actually I’ve gotta have the trousers taken in a bit as I’ve successfully lost that ever so scant bit of waistline that my mama throwed on me through love and calories at Christmas. That’s what mamas are supposed to do.

Old, old old Polo tie with an even older Paul Stuart dress shirt. Rubinacci pocket square from London tightens this rig up nicely. I mean tight. Tighter than a fat girl’s socks.

And yes I’m sitting outside. I’m so tired of this weather that I could spit. But I won’t. And yes I leave the old rugs outside year around and yes the snow covered them for a month and no I don’t care. 

By the time the rugs are relegated to the outer sanctum they are of no monetary value and …and…shut up.

Don’t argue this next point with me. I don’t care what kind of trouser you are considering-nor do I care how tall-short-skinny-tubby you are. If you are going to cuff the trouser-you put a two inch cuff in it or none at all.

Flusser socks and my standard beat to dookie brown suede monk-ey strap shoes finish off this boondoggle.

 So I sit down on the old steamer trunk in my bedroom to snap a picture of the sock/shoe component of this contrivance-nothing new about this-I do it routinely.

But when I stand up I feel something pull. Now I’ve got a lovely hole in my brand new trousers. By the time they return from a reweave it will be too late to wear them this season. 

Oy. Wonder what else could happen in my little Minimus pad? God forbid a late 19th century French advertising poster should fall off the wall.

Like I said, some weeks it just pays to stay in bed.

Onward. Anyone else feel a breeze in here?

ADG