When someone over at my tumblr asked me about the conclusion of Rykken’s helmsmanship at Flusser, I said something similar to… “When the Beatles split, Paul and John still respected each other. Think of it that way.”
I kinda feel like that gal who sang that hideously mawkish song “Torn Between Two Lovers” back in the seventies. We aren’t talking commerce here in my case folks. We are talking deep and abiding friendships. My simpatico with Alan is such that I could sit and talk with him for hours. My simpatico with Rykken is the same—but different. He’s one of the best friends I’ll ever have and we argue like two kids fighting in the back of the metaphorical family station wagon. I remember telling him one night amidst a martini induced argument at 21 to simmer down a little bit, that people were gonna think he was breaking up with me.
And my friendship with Alan transcends sartorial history and color and texture and me begging for another pair of his thirty year old hand me down bespoke English shoes and his gallant gesture years ago that enabled my correspondence and acquaintance with Richard Merkin. Alan was one of the first people with whom I was able to share in person, the news that my wife and I were going to have a baby girl. He has two of them. And when I was amidst the life-sucking and check book draining divorce process, Alan facetiously referred to the pay-out plan for transferring assets to my soon to be former wife, as my “Balloon Payments.” Fluss and his minions will be here in DC next week and I'll see them.
There isn’t a secret in my life that Rykken’s not in on. I remember sitting in a diner in mid-town Manhattan at lunchtime ages ago; tears and snot cascading down-perilously close to my head-to-toe Flusser rig. No, I wasn’t disappointed in the meatloaf lunch special. I was shamefully telling Rykken that my marriage was over and that I didn’t see how in the world I was going to fathom not living in the same house as my precious little two-year old LFG. He listened. And then that night we went to 21 and then San Pietro and I got smashed.
The only non-LFG wrist junk I wear is a permanently attached woven horsehair bracelet. Rykken and his family spent time years ago in South America and he bought a bunch of them back. They’d have to cut it off of me if I was in an accident. It’s permanent. I’ve had it on for years. Kinda like the enduring friendships I have with Messrs Flusser and Rykken.
So the bottom line is this. My friends Rykken and Flusser will both thrive and they’ll both always be my friends. The good news is that I’m on “spending lockdown” for the balance of 2012 so I don’t have to worry about pissing either camp off with some huge plunk-down of cash for clothes! But for the moment, let’s take a look at what Rykken’s up to…style wise. He's running the made-to-measure/bespoke business for Paul Stuart.
The Rykken-Paul Stuart connection is elegant and this isn’t surprising. Charcoal gray pin-dots. Peak lapels.
And a paucity of flaps and contrivances that, in their absence, simply girds its elegance further. There is one fuzzy dice saving grace contrivance on this example. Sleeve cuffs.
Windowpane Double Breasted Rykken Majesty. Stunning. My affinity for windowpane isn’t a secret. It’s the base coat for fuzziness.
Ultra sophisticated pinstripes. With a double breasted shawl collared waistcoat adding dignity to the already dignified. It seems that if you can dream it…Rykken can do it.
And please, let’s not remain too “I’ve got serious and sublime business in the City” focused. Thanks be to Jesus that Rykken et al included something playful and fuzzy in their ideation! To say that this rig is animated is like declaring today Thursday. I’m loving this one but I’d have to whip it’s a_s as soon as I got it home; just to let it know who’s the alpha boss in my house. Stronger than nine rows of spring onions this is.
For a more thorough orientation to the Rykken experience, pass by the stalwart and always tasty off the peg offerings at Paul Stuart and glimpse not at the twee and theatrical Phineas Cole Happy Meals. Scoot up one flight of stairs to the Rykken atelier and…and…revel. Email Mark at firstname.lastname@example.org . And tell him I said he needs to lose twenty-five pounds.
Onward. With Friends. I can’t stop loving any of ‘em.