Corduroy Catch Up

Ahh…the weather is cooperating…cooperating with what? I’d suppose that Mother Nature chortles at our categorization of weather being anything but, well, weather. But the humidity and heat has abated enough for me to be reminded that September through early November here is perfecto convertible car weather. So the SaabMinimus will see hopefully, more days with the top down than not. And by the way, someone asked about the status of my new car acquisition efforts. Actually, since I don’t buy new cars I suppose the update is better characterized as my “three year old car just off of lease” acquisition efforts. There are a couple of mechanical things going on with my Saab that when one does a cost/value/benefit analysis; the repair costs exceed the value of the car. My original intent was to sell or trade my Saab while it had albeit scant, some dollar value remaining to use towards another car. I’ve changed course and have decided to drive my Saab till it literally coughs up its last gasp of Swedish whatever.

So in the midst of Saab-Top Down weather, an annual sartorial dilemma manifests. It ain’t cold and it ain’t hot. Swathing from the waist up is a no brainer but the trouser decision matrix is scant with inputs at best. Linen is out. Moleskin cotton and corduroy must wait for a bit of a nip in the air. So this tweener-time has me going to two pairs of trousers for work. Ok, maybe a pair of flat front khakis will suffice in some client meetings but I done told ya more than once…I’m only gonna dumb down my sartorial standards to a certain point…I don’t care how much my clients are slumming sartorially. I’ll get off of that tirade because I’ve tantrum-ed in front of you before about this issue. The pair of lightweight cavalry twill trousers above represents my bulletproof-go to togs for this transitional weather. I’ve had ‘em for years and they truly are the hardest finish-sturdiest stalwart trews in my lineup. My other go to transitional trouser is a ten year old pair of Polo Purple label butter soft gabardine babies that I’m wearing the hell out of. I’ve got a zillion and a half pairs of trousers but I’m needing something…one more pair of transitional togs to hold me over till it’s corduroy-moleskin time.

I love corduroy and moleskin…both very casual materials intended for the country or the weekend. However, it’s a regular part of my business casual lineup given that my clients and their corporate campus dress codes have allowed a hygiene holiday…and that’s being generous. But it’s still too early to consider buying or wearing either. The Brooks Brethren outlet in Flemington New Jersey offered a few corduroy choices about two weeks ago when I checked in on them. It was ninety-eight degrees at six o’clock that day and I popped a sweat just looking at anything intimating autumn.

But remember the horizontal corduroy trousers from J. McLaughlin last year? The really tripped my fuzzy diced trigger but the price point for said folly was a bit too steep for me. 

Until…until…they gave them away after Christmas last. Fuzzy is good. Fuzzy at a billion percent off is even better. I’m a free market kind of a guy. 

Business need to make money. But when cash flow needs for a retailer necessitate this kind of markdown, I’m only too happy to oblige. And oblige I did. This one, obligingly, is for the ladies. 

I was in Georgetown recently and popped in to J. McLaughlin to see what might be cooking for the season. And the horizontal cords were on the front burner. So was this stunning specimen of womankind who gladly held these cords so that I could take a snap or two. After accommodating about thirty minutes of poses and varied camera angles, she finally balked at my suggestion that she model a few of the women’s half price bathing suits. Just so you know…a pair of tightly rolled-up corduroy trousers, wielded as a nightstick-baton and fuelled by the rage of an athletic and  insulted woman, hurts when it pops the side of your noggin’. I waited till I got outside to cry.

And certainly, GTH cords are worthy of consideration. But the need for multiple pairs is nonexistent unless you are the early retired, hooch marinated guy who spends every afternoon in the bar at the Club. Afternoon defined for these archetypes as beginning around 2:39 pm. That would not be me. 

However, our Buffalo based Trad stalwart O’Connells is offering a limited trove of new-old stock GTH cords in clever and stunning contrivances. And unlike the bleeding madras mother lode that sent many of us trad-nuts over the edge, they actually have a few pairs of these babies larger than a 32.

Ok, on to some miscellaneous catch up…

My LFG weekend was just the tonic I needed and we enjoyed every minute of it. The Snow Leopards won their first game and that’s of course, a great way to get the season going. LFG’s mom showed up for the game and I noted with whateverishness that LFG is on the cusp of being as tall as her mom. I’ve said it before, LFG may not play basketball but she’s gonna make a hell of a jockey.

And for some reason, the soccer fields on Saturday teemed with large SUVs and stern looking people with earpieces and dark sunglasses.

So after soccer we had an errand or two that included buying a few more school supplies. We tried our newest junque boutique…an intriguing little operation called Five Below. Of course they had spiral notebooks and the other things we needed. But with everything in the joint priced at less than five bucks, coupled with my southern white trash DNA, we had a hell of a time procuring tchotchke. LFG got these fuzzy little footies for a dollar. I approved the pounce for several reasons-unit price being a key variable. The other trigger for affirming the purchase was knowing that her mother would be rolling her eyes for the entire week. Just realized what a gnarly juxtaposition my ugly leg hair is in concert with such a dainty little fuzzy-horizontal foot. Shut up.

Oh, and I'm learning to pick my battles. This was not one of them.

The coup for me included two books. One, originally priced at thirty bucks was essentially an illustrated history of Aardmann Studios and their plasticine-hand sculpted magnificence. LFG and I are huge fans of Aardman and have in our permanent collection everything ever done with Wallace and Gromit as well as Creature Comforts and a vignette DVD of all the television commercials Aardman has produced. I love their low tech, excruciatingly slow and primitive method of producing their clever tales. One could write a Master’s thesis for film school on the communicative power of Gromit’s eyebrow movements.

And the muscle car book is a fun but heartbreaking treatise on what was and what will never be again. Each Detroit show of muscle includes a year by year capture of the cars performance specifications. Sadly, there was a year that saw Chevrolet offer a Camaro with a, I kid you not, 90hp engine. Folks, the first Miata debuted with 120hp. I’ll race ya.

Wouldn’t you know it, we forgot that Old Town Alexandria hosted their annual arts fair last weekend so after Five Below, we walked down King Street and enjoyed the artists. LFG is in the midst of redesigning her bedroom and decided that this whimsical little print would be just the thing for her nest. I complied.

Restoration hardware is on King Street and while we don’t buy much stuff there, it’s a really cool place, literally, to gander about and rest your weary dogs for a moment. They are in the midst of totally redefining their strategy and while LFG and I are not trained interior design lackeys, we liked some of the things we saw.

LFG was especially intrigued with this Campaign Furniture inspired work area that literally closes like a travel chest. She vetoed my suggestion that she close me up inside this thing and let me yelp for help, claiming that it attacked me and that I’d not sue if they’d just give me one of these babies.

Then we got a bit artistic with our self portraiture efforts. Shut up.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. National Airport saw me off to Boston on Sunday early evening.

But Boston wouldn’t have me as intended. The Road Warrior-Consultant On-The-Go Gods decided to manifest four hour ground holds that left me ultimately at JFK airport with no connections remaining to Boston. By now it’s eleven thirty pm and I’m speaking in Boston at eight a.m. So might the above captured moment have me somewhat beleaguered and less than ebullient? Certainly. Because it’s three-thirty in the morning and after three hours of sleep, I’m about to jump in a car that’s been arranged for me and head over to LaGuardia and catch the six o’clock shuttle to Boston Logan.

At least the LaGuardia carpet matched my rig. I walked in to the conference room at the Westin in Wellesley at seven-forty five, fuelled by adrenaline and caffeine, a PowerPoint deck of drivel illuminating the screen five minutes later and I over-delivered for my client. Like Dizzy Dean once said… “It ain’t braggin’ if you done it”.

I was front and center till five p.m. Went straight to the bar and had one of these, then room service dinner and REM sleep by eight-thirty.

Onward…amidst tenfold more blessings than challenges. Repacking the bag for a project pitch in New Jersey in the morning. My partners and I will win this project.

ADG