Ode to Toad...dans Velours Côtelé

Blame this on Toad. He made me do it. Not directly mind you...for he knows nothing about this fuzztacious corduroy shawl collared thang. Leastways not till he stumbles upon this expose'. But it's the kind of thing he'd wanna do. Not stumble. But contrive something this...shall we say...experimental. And Velours Côtelé? Hell, I knew him. Firsthand. Sure as I'm writing this. He drove one of the only two taxis in Florence, S.C. for Moe the Rooster Taxi Service in the late sixties through the early seventies. Used to drive my daddy around when he'd had too much to drink. Which was always. Both of 'em. Mr. Côtelé and daddy. Seems like Velours drove a Deuce and a Quarter with special fabric for the headliner. My daddy wouldn't a much been all that for this jacket but Velours would been all over it. Butcept maybe in purple.

Surely it's a boondoggle and the maker of such things capricious isn't on Savile Row nor is it one of my Gotham Made-to-Measurers. I wouldn't tie-up too much dough in a rig like this and I won't get a sense of how it fits till this Thursday morning. Looks half-decent on the suit form though. Stay damn tuned.

"The Toad." Yep. That's what we'll name this model. Care to the wind it is. Just like my good buddy Toad. But he does care about the things worth caring about. Like friendships and family and little girls. You should read the nice letter that he sent LFG along with his Christmas gift to her. It's in the forever file. He applied for an Unclehood and I advised Princess LFG to oblige him.

Crazy ain't it? This jacket. I considered cloth covered buttons and still might go that route. Bam. Shut the...

Black Tie? Perhaps. In the comfort of a private party. Like the delightful one that the Elegantologist hosted in Richmond this past New Years Eve. I hope I get invited again next year. I didn't spill nothin'. Drank an assload...but didn't spill nary a drop. I'll more than likely wear this with jeans and Red Wings. And maybe still...black tie.

So here's to Toad. And to corduroy and other occasional fabrics and friends and parties and shawl collars where they ought not be. And Princesses...especially my LFG...and to...love.

Onward. Not travelling.

ADG II

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

London and D.C. Sartorial Randomanlia

The Maxminimus local guide in London sent a few Spring Season window pics that I thought worthy of passing along. Plenty of Fuzzy Diceness across the pond is seems. I've thrown a few random observations gathered over the last few weeks. Too busy to write voluminously but too busy to dump a few random pictures on you. So let's go to London first. New and Lingwood above-as long as the N&L boys are in play, my GTH Fuzzy Dice sock habit will be forever sourced.

Smedley Diagonalia. I'd wear 'em-but you already knew that.

N&L robe...I'm digging the construct. Just not sure about the skull and cross bones thing.

Now over to Cordings. This pains me as much as anything but I can't deny it. I was witness to their attenuated inventory and flat affect when I was last in London. Perhaps it's too much to say that they are on their last leg-I hope otherwise.

I'm not Hackett's target market so that fact that their latest efforts are lost on me is ok.

I'm all for unique. I'm a fan of different. I like being an outlier but even I have Fuzzy Dice Boundaries. The oddly spaced-configured Hackett sleeve buttons bother me. Shut up.

Ok...here's a couple of things from home. J.Crew is offering a whimsical belt this season. Not too expensive-kinda cool. I don't know if I'd like to have a crab claw that close to Wankertown though.

J.Crew as always, remains a go-to destination for GTH horizontality.

The ADG jury remains out regarding the disposition of madras for the 2010 season. You might recall that I declared madras, especially patch madras, in need of a sabbatical after I found it for sale in the surf-head shops at the beach last August. The same might now be the case for horizontality.

LFG and I walked in to Urban Outfitters in Georgetown the other week and spied this menagerie. It's gonna kill me to declare a Horizontibbatical but it might be time. Just watch your evening news regularly for my announcement. Damn.

Speaking of horizontal...the weather remains crisp enough here to wear my J.Mc. horizontal cords. Here's a little shot for the ladies! You are welcome.

And finally, I'm often asked how I can still wear the same size trousers that I sported in college. Easy to answer-hard to do...It's all about trade offs folks. Look for "lite" versions of your favorites...seek leaner cuts of everything.

Leanly...ADG

Trad Tap In: Robert E. Lee and Elephants

On the road again-blessed to have the business but just too darn busy to post voluminously. Never have I claimed any of this to be substantive. And if you DON'T correctly guess the above airport carpet you have to send ME a hundred bucks. Shut up.

I'm tentatively optimistic that we will soon be shedding wool for linen in the DC area. The weekend looks good and we'll just hope that the reprieve from pasty is just around the corner. I don't know about you but I'm flat out tired of Allie VonSummersverb crowing over at Summer is a Verb about her Pancho Villa inspired sun tan. I'm ready for one my damn self.

I did bust my white ankles out the other day-just test driving the environment. And it seems that we can sit out on the south veranda of the Casa without getting frost bite.

So...this will just be an aggregate of random. A montage (pile-load) of verbal and visual drivel that'll just have to hold you till I can post some other things. Let's start with Elephants...ok? This past weekend was my LFG designated frolic and we did anything but. Her latest book report had to be non fiction and we had to make an oversized book with ten pages of unique facts. She also had to write a summary of the book as well as turn in all draft materials and outlines etc. The cool thing about this endeavour is that the big book will presented to First Graders tomorrow-by little Miss LFG. Who knows, perhaps she'll be inspired to be a teacher. I'd be ever so proud of her if she does become one.

Saturday saw us sequestered for the entire day working on said book project. My child never got out of her pajamas and didn't complain one moment.

I started melting down after about six hours of this rodeo and she had to keep me from getting spastic.

She wrote drafts and then verbally dictated them to me. We found clip art ...we pasted....we assembled...we did it...in ten hours.

Then I walked to the 7-11 to procure some medicine to provide unguent for the Big A_ s Elephant book project trauma. I know a lot about elephants now. I told my clients this week all sorts of stuff about elephants and they still paid me.

So Sunday we rewarded ourselves before I flew out. We picked up best friend D.G. and headed to Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum and then the National Gallery of American Art.

Here's Uncle Bob. A battle weary man no doubt.

Here's LFG telling Uncle Bob that it's time to give it up. Quit the fight.

 And here's an absurd JFK pocket square rig. almost swallowed my chew when I rounded the corner and saw this.

I HAD to tune the old boy up a bit.

Killed some time in Georgetown recently and pounced. Pounced on these J.McLaughlin horizontal cords. I've always been amused by them but not at the MSRP they wanted for them.

At such drastic reductions-I rescued them. They were a little bit large in the waist-being a 33 and everything but I've had them adjusted a bit. Washboard abs. Shut the_______.

That's all I have for now. And I don't promise much better anytime soon!

Onward. ADG and LFG.

Ps...Happy St. Pats.