The further decline in sartorial rigor and deportment in general…if you read my tumblr, you probably caught the text that I posted from LFG. My little gal who turns 12 (I cannot believe it) in three weeks texted me and told me not to wear a sportcoat to her dance recital last Friday night. I am the only parent who does and LFG is at that age where she wants nothing in her world to stand out/be different/manifest outlier status/draw attention. I have, in my effort to maintain some standard of not looking like one of the school kids, become an embarrassment to my little gal. I did upon her request, leave the above sportcoat in the car. She was elated.
You’ll see fewer photos of LFG on my blog from now on. I won’t belabor the point but she’s getting older and it’s appropriate that I allow her a higher level of privacy as she becomes the stellar young lady that I see blossoming before my eyes.
Her dance recital was great and it’s evident that she’s really found her passion in dance. I hate that we no longer play soccer—it was a venue where I could be more involved and also get the additional chance to see her on the non-LFG weekend Saturdays. Nothing traumatic brewing and nothing unusual amidst the current trend…but I’m having to schedule appointments to get access to my little gal. As many of you have told me… “She’s at that age…” You can tell me all day long. I still don't have to like it.
Acheson…I learned so many interesting things about the man that I’ve got one more Acheson post in the queue.
But I decided against doing a post on Trad Swimwear. Mainly because I don’t give a damn about it.
I’ll write at some point over the summer, more about my move to Chevy Chase/Bethesda. I need to be around the corner from LFG and the Corner Slice pizza joint that she and I have come to enjoy.
You’ll soon get an expose regarding my upcoming hair transplant surgery that I’ve budgeted for.
Cleverley posts are also in the queue. Here’s Cleverley’s Dominic Casey. I took him to dinner the other week when he was in D.C. I ordered a Stoli martini and he figured he’d like to try one too. After one sip, he eventually regained his normal respiration…looked at me and essentially said that it seemed impossible that someone as small as me could drink such a thing. He declared the cocktail to be…“tricky”. I declare that if you drink enough of ‘em, you get good at it. I then drank his too. Tricky D. Shut up.
My next automobile centric post will extol the dangers of ADD people trying to do their own rallye stripe projects. Don’t. Do it.
San Francisco...I have two more stories from my trip. One will focus on my bespoke green gator card case commission.
Kinda like the redundancy of another Hemingway, Fitzgerald or Robert E. Lee biography, I figured that the subject of good ole starched khakis had been done and done and done. But a tumblr reader’s question has sparked a khaki post idea. I’ll get to it. Whenever.
Onward. Till Tuesday ADG II