Some trips to the mailbox are more gratifying than others. Some visits elicit a wide range of emotions…especially if I’ve been gone for a week. A weeklong delay in visiting the folks who hang on to my parcels in my absence usually yields the gamut of sensory tweaks when I finally show back up.
But today…today was beyond exhilarating, transcendent or riveting. Hell, I’m still jiggy and my meds wore off hours ago. It was nir-damn-vana. Apparel Arts…the Trade publication for menswear purveyors...redolence manifest by way of tactile and visual cues from an elegant era long passed. Somehow a bunch of them showed up.
Finding one of these hardcover volumes is near impossible these days. And the contents therein makes Take Ivy look like the tourist brochure that it…well…is.
I told you it was a tactile and visual treat. Much like me.
Here's just a hint of what I'll be poaching and extolling about in months to come. One of the 1937 volumes mentions these jaunty loafers...something about peasants, slippers and Norwegian antecedents. Huh.
So I’ll be right here. Not writing blog stories. But sitting-here-alone. Reveling in musty musings and snappy snapshots. Worry not. I've got barbecue Fritos and Stoli.