Monday, August 6, 2012

Trad-Ivy Tuesday: Sir T’oad McThrottle’s Request

Let’s talk tweed…Keeper’s if you will. And flannel. Why not, it’s only gonna be just shy of a hundred degrees—again—here inside the Beltway today. And what about my extra good buddy T’oad’s request? It seems that Sir T’oad (The apostrophe is a one-off affectation that I throwed on this morning, thinking that I may weave some fictitious French or other Continental lineage into Sir T’oad’s journey to his current position as landed gentry. But then I thought better of it. He is devoid of pigment.) declares it too soon for tweed talk and has requested refrain from such.
And the McThrottle moniker comes from his rightful belief that any blogger who mentions flannel or tweed before the weather gets nippy deserves a flogging. Here’s his exact words from my tumblr… “Mentally, I've promised myself that until the weather cools, I'd throttle the first guy who posts about tweed, flannel, wool, etc. Consider yourself throttled.” Ok den.
And he’s correct. But I had to post the photo above. The lighting sucked but if you’d seen this thing in situ, you’d a take a photo too. The lushness of the navy blue flannel was stunning. Marky Mark Mark Rykken of Paul Stuart Custom made this rig for one of the minions at The Rake. You’ll see it in an upcoming issue.
It is too early to talk tweed but I’m gonna do it. I’m a warm weather guy but if I’ve gotta endure the rawness of winter, I’d like to do so swathed in the topographical and geometric fuzziness of texturated English fabrics. All of the cloths and many of the contrivances over at Bookster remind me of Edwardian English shooting parties and as I type this, the salad days print ads from Polo Ralph harken for me the same recollectionated juju.
For you South Carolinians who read this load, I define the Polo “salad days” somewhere within the range of 1975-1985…with Thousand Island dressing and two two-packs of Melba toast. South Carolina Diner style.
Ok, back to tweeds and such. The impracticalities of those shooting party outfits present a dilemma. Or as someone taking shots at me over at my tumbler said about the intent, utility or relevance of my clothes, declaring them as—and I paraphrase loosely—“outfits for parties and events to which you no longer get invited.” I reckon the reason that stung is because my snide commentator is right. I’m wearing Sponge Bob Square Pants pajama bottoms right now so what event am I currently ready for? People like me get all caught up in the possibilities of such outfits and then find that, and I paraphrase my not so anonymous shot taker again, we don’t get invited to … “butterfly collecting but only when the mosquitoes aren’t so bad” events where the costumery is mandatory.
But I still had to have one. The tweedy Shooting Party esque two-piece contrivances that always look so damned good on people who are doing things where such kit is appropriate have always intrigued me. But not enough to spend the dough necessary to commission one for my damn self. I don’t generally run with the Highland Wingshooting, Stalking, Moors slogging crowd.
That’s where Bookster comes in. I’ve yet to have them make a jacket for me but my fifth pair of Bookster trousers is in the works right now. Hopefully they’ll roll in with enough time left for me to wear them once this season. Linen flat front fish-tails.  Oh, and fish-tail split backs are tricky as hell. You better know your size because when you start fiddling with waist alterations, you’re gonna foul the fish. That is, if you can find a tailor willing to take on the task.
I’ve spent tons of dough on custom clothes but I rarely allow the Flusser boys to make odd trousers for me. Hertling and Bookster quality/caliber is just fine for me. Really. So amidst my longing for a Shooting Party-esque suit that I’ll never wear, I wondered if the Bookster Seafield piece goods would remotely match up with my already well-worn and beloved Flusser Seafield poacher pocketed chest pocket flapped jacket that always gets admirable reviews.
I requested a swatch and the match-up is fine. Just fine. But I didn’t get much of a chance to wear this rig last season because, just like my linens that I decided to order at the wrong time, the Bookster trousers rolled in a bit too late in the season.  And when you order the proper sized fish tail trousers, this is what they should look like.
And then…and then I began to think about the Vanity Fair shooting prints. Several prints capture the essence of  shooting party dress and Lord Savile of RuffordAbbey has probably the best display of shooting kit as any of the Vanity Fair victims. “Spy”…Sir Leslie Ward, had, by the time he drew Savile for Vanity Fair, devolved his caricaturing skills to nothing more than society portraiture. You’ll see the difference in Ward's earlier caricatures. Stay tuned.
Here’s further evidence that Ward’s Vanity Fair contrivance was nothing more than a portrait…certainly not caricature. The Vanity Fair image is almost identical to Savile's photograph. I’ve long since, thank goodness, given up my flirtation with a mustache but Savile’s is one for the record books.
And Rufford Abbey? Similar to many of the estates which thrived when the balance of land ownership and thus every other venue to power was held in the hands of few, Rufford Abbey is no longer.  Here's a few more Vanity Fair shooting subjects...
Sir R.W.Payne-Gallwey
Sir R.W.Payne-Gallwey…Letters to Young Shooters.
Payne-Gallweywas a fairly prolific author whose three volume Letters to Young Shooters and his Book of Duck Decoys are highly collectible today.
R.H.R Rimington Wilson.  Listed by The Field as number sixty-nine of the one hundred best shots in English history.
R.H.R Rimington Wilson…Driven Grouse.
The Earl De Grey. Frederick Robinson, 2nd Marquess of Ripon
The Earl De Grey…The Best Game Shot in England. But how difficult is it to be the best game shot in England when you’ve got estate raised birds and beaters driving them to you?
Richard John Lloyd Price of Rhiwias. Author of Practical Pheasant Rearing and Rabbits for Profit—Rabbits for Powder.
As well as Dogs’ Tales
Oh and Dogs Ancient and Modern and Walks in Wales.
Richard John Lloyd Price of Rhiwias…Pointers.
Ok, time for me to bust out of my Sponge Bob Square Pants pajamas and get cracking on the day. Somebody please, invite me to something this coming season where I can wear this rig. I’ll bring my first shotgun with me. It was a .410 Flight King…from K-Mart. Hoyt Purdey sold it to my daddy.
And speaking of shotguns and stuff...This is anything but tweed. It's Weejuns, keg beer and ...

Onward. Throttled. ADG II

18 comments:

Anonymous said...

Woooooo-HOOOOOO. Somewhere in the blog-o-sphere, a whole lot of sheep have just figured out why their relatives suddenly look so much skinnier. I bleeve you are featuring some major throttle enhanced turbo fuzzy 20 oz yardgoods, there, bo. Them ain't just bullet-proof, them is nuke proof. You are a mere 130 days or so from time to don said hairy togs, after all. Well done, melad.

The friend of lonely sheep everywhere,

Angus MacWooley

Conor Aubry said...

Quite a few good mustaches in this post.

I approve.

NCJack said...

Bubba, I un'nerstan them birds come at you at about 90, so it ain't like when we wuz fishin' with blastin' caps.

But itsn't it loverley to think about an entweeded shoot, with ghillies loading and handing you the Purdeys, and young Lady Elspeth admiring your fishtailed form? Then back to the Hall, changing for din-din, port and cigars, and some musical beds with the minor distaff aristocracy?...I gotta quit readin' that old English fiction...

ilovelimegreen said...

Before I even read the words, "somebody please, invite me to something where I can wear this rig" I was already trying to figure out how I could get ADG to wear that killer suit to my green party next March. But you knew you were invited already. Oh, and there will be one or two functions this fall to which you will be invited. Looking forward to seeing you and that suit.

Young Fogey said...

You can come to my house ennytime enrobed in that off-lime windowpane entweedance. I'll wear my favorite tweed jacket (a 25-year-old Ralph Lauren number I bought new) and flannels or sumpin' so you don't feel entirely out of place. I'll liquor you up so you don't notice how bad the swill is at Chez Fogéy, then let you sleep it off on the couch. Don't mind the kids jumping on you at the crack of dawn; it's part of our hospitality.

Anonymous said...

Since a decent interval has now passed, I am eager to point out that, as the original shot -taker, my intended tone was COMMISERATING, not accusatory, when I asked about parties you/we don't go to any more. Human beings are notoriously always fighting the last war and what better way to carry on that tradition than to buy clothes we don't really need? I believe I referred to the honourable and manly sport of TRUFFLE hunting, not some silly butterfly chase. I would regret the misunderstanding as much as I do the unintended offense, but you seem to have gotten sufficient mileage from it that all is well that ends well. At the risk of taking another shot, I really would like to see your thoughts on how we don't seem to go out as often as we used to. However, I will have to wait and read them later. Tonight is Tango night and I need to see about getting my velvet suit steamed. I think I'll wear the garnet one, because this is going to be The Year for Gamecock Football.

deMainabouche

Toad said...

Aren't the salad gays of Ralph defined as when Ralph hisself owned the joint?

Since the Glorious 12 or 13 this year is soon upon us I'll forgive this one dip into the deep pool of Scottish wool.

You're still throttled though.

T'oad d'Mayberry

ABG said...

Great post! Not sure if you ever venture to NYC but you could probably wear it to the Chef David Boulud Grouse dinner:



Oh wait that is in August! That won't work at all. Maybe you could wing over to Scotland for the real deal, the "Glorious 12th!"

Anonymous said...

Nip up to Scotland for a few days, your 'breaks' will feel right at home.
Cheers
Herts

Anonymous said...

Nip up to Scotland for a few days, your breeks will feel right at home.

Cheers

Herts

Nick said...

"salad gays"? -- wot, no cucumber jokes

The Leopard said...

"You see, ya can't please everyone, so you got to please yourself" Garden Party by Rick Nelson, nuff said

maven said...

Being an old girl, I want an outfit like the lady in the 6th photo. Our mountaintop weekend place in WV could stand in for the Scottish highlands, right?

I have Granddaddy's and Daddy's shotguns, too, so I am set.

BTW, I like your suit, ADG!

BethAnn said...

I'm with Toad on this one; it is far too hot outside to thing about tweed or flannel. And I have 3 more months of it down here. Not that it ever gets cold enough to even own tweed or flannel here.

But....but....what is that jacket in the first photo with cuffs on the sleeves???? I don't think I've ever seen sleeve cuffs before. Intriguing. Nicely fuzzy. I may have to have something like that.

Anonymous said...

Dude - do you like to shoot? Is there anything keeping you from getting an over and under, get a little group together to meet the 3rd Thursay of every month at Pintail Point - do some 5 stand and walk the course with a guide. Heck of a way to spend the afternoon. And oh yea, tell you buds to throw on a tie before they leave for the Point - trust me, you won't feel out of place. To this day, my father will wear a tie on his visit - even in the dog days of summer - old school.

Anonymous said...

Jr. Walker and "Shotgun" bring back some great memories. I actually won the 45 of this on the radio. Remember those contests? Fun! And I can remember dancingthe jerk with a little two much enthusiasm under the influence of keg beer.

Elizabeth

ADG said...

Angus MacWooley…I own the outfit. Not sure though, that I’ll ever wear it.

Conor…you are one of the few left who can preen a good ‘stache.

NCJackie...Yep. But they say the Ghonorrhea also ran rampant down them halls.

ilovelimegreen...It’s a knowed fact that you plan your green parties when you know I can’t be there. So there.

Young FogeyMonmon...I missed the days of jumping kids. Mine won’t even talk to me.

AnonymousShot-Taker...I knew it was you from the get-go.

T’oadSalad...He still owns over 50% of it hisself. But I get your point. He does have to bow to the collective wisdom and energy of the … “retail minds”

ABG...I’m currently code 3 so I ain’t going nowheres.

Herts…see above.

Nick...good “catch”

Leopard...I’ve been downright addicted to self-pleasure for some time now.

Maven...A&S will make you one.

BethAnn...Please. Don’t tell me you haven’t read my stories about sleeve cuffs.

Anonymous... Is there anything keeping you from getting an over and under…yes. I am a convicted Felon.

Elizabeth45Winner…that’s exactly why I can’t drink beer anymore.

BethAnn said...

I have not read your previous musings on sleeve cuffs and you don't have a category for that or a search function. Now I'm even more curious. It's not even a treasure hunt without clues.

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