Post Update: I got feedback that the black background on my blog made it difficult to read so I changed it. Now I'm getting grief from regular readers. For example...
Sent: Wednesday, July 28, 2010 9:57 AM To: D G Subject: today's PS
I DO NOT like the new color scheme. I may go on a commenting strike until you change it - and that brown - yuck. The original was elegant but this is just mundane.
From: @mindspring.com] Sent: Wednesday, July 28, 2010 12:42 PM To: D G Subject: RE: today's PS
I mean what I say. The distinctive look is G-O-N-E
Ok people, help me out. What should the damn thing look like?
Now back to my post....God has blessed me with a current workload that is rewarding and demanding. I’ve always said that life is too short to do something professionally that isn’t enjoyable but let’s be realistic here…some aspect of all careers is less enjoyable than others. I’m cranking out follow-up material and new project proposals this week…not as fun as being front and center with bright clients who are willing to be challenged and grow. But I can’t have one aspect of my gig without the other.
And so my blessed dilemma leaves me too busy to craft anything approaching erudition or captivating for my blog. I’ve got tons of raw material and when I have some time, I’ll surely fire off a zinger or two for you. For example, we will...
Witness me gloating over the fact that I now have copies of Downbeat Magazine from the late 1930’s and you don't. Issues that include the edgy rhetoric of a twenty seven year old George Frazier. I’ve had to remind myself several times that these trade rag stories I’m reading were published in the 30’s…why? Because other than being just a delightful assemblage of wit and words, this stuff would be edgy by today’s standards. A testament to Frazier’s budding Acidmouth genius. There is no wonder why Richard Merkin loved George Frazier. And thanks to a Maxminimus reader, I've now engaged in a very nice email exchange with George Frazier, IV. He's given me permission to post some of the musings that he and I have shared about his father. And people wonder why I don't watch television.
Discuss the merits of using dark brown polish for the maiden shine on whiskey shell cordovan monk straps. Cordovan delivers depth and “patina upon arrival” but the lighter versions of cordovan tend to look a bit plastic-ey until you rough ‘em up and shine ‘em up a bit. I care not what your opinion is regarding the outcome of my dark brown appliqué. The fact of the matter is that these babies are now wallowing in depth of sheen and patinated pleasure. And on certain days, they’ve invited my feet to join them. Shut up.
Debate to what degree I should give Thom Browne…the sartorial PeeWee Herman…any credit for the trend in slimmer flat front trousers and shorter pant lengths. I’m way too commercial versus artistic when it comes to said assessments and I still think the guy’s stuff is a joke. But I’m gonna have to throw him a small bone. But not a nice soup bone that a dog would relish. Maybe a chicken neck-bone. My aunt Tootie could gnaw a neck-bone like a work of art. She'd throw it out back after finishing with it and the dogs would look at it like "...and you want me to do what with that damn thing?" We’ll see.
Allow me to explain why I gladly though, give Sid Mashburn credit for taking the Southern Prep legacy to an edgier place. I shortened and frayed an old pair of 501s in homage to his style tweak. It’s a look I like. Sid gets it.
Ask while speaking of sartorial Atlanta, whatever happened to the pugnacious, pudgy poseur Edgar Pomeroy? He looks like Truman Capote...but in size 58 font.
Now I’m not saying that Pomeroy or any other clothier is for certain having Adrian Jules or Martin Greenfield do the initial cut and sew on their garments. The Pomeroy goods may be imagined, cut, sewn and finished right there on the premises. After all, Atlanta has a rich history of highly capable tailors flocking there to ply their talents. Don't misunderstand me...Jules and Greenfield do stellar work. But it won’t be purely bespoke and therefore price points should reflect this. Word is that a Pomeroy suit can cost up to 5k. If so, then every damn pattern snip and stitch better be bespoken. ‘Cause now were talking Anderson and Sheppard and maybe even Huntsman price points.
And these Pomeroy slippers better be for women. These things look like the result of a pair of Cole-Haans, a pair of Ballys and a ballet slipper getting a little too jiggy in a hot tub threesome with no birth control. And this is coming from ADG…aka…Eddie Espadrille…Sammy Slipper…Bobby Belgian. I’m gay. From the ankles down. I’ve got references to support that all above the ADG ankle remains voraciously “the other way”.
Argue I’m sure, over my post on Jeans and the Middle Aged Man. What kind to wear and at what age should you hang them up for good. Surprise, I have strong opinions here. If I want your opinion, I’ll give it to you.
Discuss why I believe my Tiffany ADG belt buckle father’s day gift from LFG will be a lifetime treasure.
Deconstruct the rumour regarding whether or not I’m really the love child of Gilligan and Thurston Howell, III
The evidence is scant but there are some of you who insist on this being sorted out.
Examine my latest martini photo collection. Recognizing that the Marriott in Dallas last week provided me martinis with kind of a safety handle—double gripper stem. Aesthetically vulgar but useful when you have the shakes and manda-damn-tory when you have the shakes, rattles and rolls. Oh shut the h_ll up.
But then sigh with relief that at home, I don’t need a martini glass with training wheels or gutter bumpers. But I do need jalapeno stuffed olives.
Recognize that out of every one thousand people I see in airports, one will have a level of trad style that reflects simplicity and good taste…without breaking the bank. Case in point above…DFW last week.
Then allow me to contradict the above assertion by having me admit that I travel in this getup for several reasons. First, I don’t give a damn. Second, it’s been averaging a hundred degrees where I’ve been. Third, you know that I don’t like to pack sportcoats so I wear them on the plane, then steam them for hours in the hotel shower.
And finally, I’ll force you to admit that if you could traverse an airport concourse in this rig with any level of confidence, you’d do the same damn thing. Don’t touch this one if you can’t pull it off. There’s a difference between people staring and people laughing. The day people stop staring at me will be the day I worry. The day people are laughing at you is the day you need not take on the edgier ADG contrivances. Commando in this heat BTW.
NOT open the debate again regarding the Adirondack—Gibson Island genesis issue. These are Gibson Island chairs so shut up. And they are no longer British Racing Green. Not that I don’t still do from time to time, some British and some Racy shit in these chairs…it’s just that we needed a little sprucing up over here at CasaMinimus. Racy shit-bad choice of words. Sorry.
Allow me to once again, gloat chauvinistically regarding why it is so damn easy to be a guy and that there’s never a more compelling bit of evidence than my week’s worth of toiletries for Dallas.
Onward. Random even when medicated.
Oh and Ps…
A couple of housekeeping things …I’m sorry that the black background was challenging for many of you to read. I’m a techno-luddite when it comes to these kinds of things and as soon as I got some specific feedback on the need to change it, I did. You might find some old posts that need font color adjustment though. If you do run across one, I’d appreciate an email letting me know so that I can fix it. Maxminimus2000@yahoo.com
Also, I’m not sure about this Feedblitz service. So I’m going to add the Google Friends thing as an alternative and request, if you want to, that you sign up for my blog via that venue.