The Jay Kos Acrostic

My

Sister

Found

Another

Napkin…

...acrosticates the most significant remembrance of my brief Jay Kos foray earlier this week. While two well behaved ten year olds sat quietly, I hurried through the giveaway sizes in the hundred- dollar-pant-pile. Tons of great stuff remained in waist sizes 35 and up but pickings were slim down in the sexy middle aged man sizes. I was able to pounce on one pair of top/western pocketed linen trews that of course, I do not need. I paid up and my fillies and I were about to exit but then an undeniable circumstantial thang percolated.

The twee little acrostic above introduces my Northampton Home Run…an Edward Green pillage of estimable value…quantifiably justifiable…leastways in my little mind. So let me spill the mnemonic beans…

Monk

Straps

For

Almost

      Nothing …

...well, pretty darn close to nothing. As the girls decamped their perch and I thanked the Kos-ettes for the fun banter and hundred dollar trousers, I spotted a brown suede contrivance on the shelf. And wouldn’t you know it, they were just my size. Showroom sample shoes and retail display shoes are often my size. When I lived in Montclair NJ years ago, all of the Ralph Lauren sample shoes made by Baker-Benjes were dumped in a shoe repair shop about a mile from my house. I used to hang around that place like an OCD laden stalker. But I digress.

It would have been a moral failing to not buy these Edward Green babies. Even on the cusp of my maiden George Cleverley appointment in a few weeks. These suede monks retail for just south of a grand. If you’ve never worn a properly sized, off the shelf shoe from a Northampton maker, please do so before you die. Which by the way…again…is May 21^st of this year.

“So how much are they now?” I axked. Two hundred clams and a ten dollar UPS Ground charge later and the three of us were out the door. At a couple of Benjamins, even if I’d bought an identical pair the day before at full retail, they’d still have to accompany me back to Old Town Alexandria. If that had been the case, I’d have simply lain the chocolate suede puppies down beside the Bordeaux in the cellar (read…kitchen corner…on the floor…under the liquor trolley) and called them up years later when needed. Oh and by the way, don't call Kos and try to do any phone shopping or inquiring about the availability of similar bargains. These were the last pair and had been their display shoe for quite some time.

Had the E.G. offer been some type of brogued lace-up, I’d have passed even at a double Benjamin. I love my brogued ghillies but they become anything but restrained with their Dainite soles and tasseled laces.

Ghillies are neither fish nor foul...especially when worn with Flusser Fish Socks.

Monks too...are neither fish nor fowl and are fuzzy enough for all ADG occasions. I slept in these one night. These only. And we are still marveling at how I navigated my jeans over two monk speed bumps. It’s amazing what one can do amidst a craving or a crisis. Note the Jethro Bodinesque swagger above. Double Naught Spy rigging...so that I'll blend in.

Monks are as dressy as anything I’ll ever require and easily make the transition to jeans. Hell, I’ve even worn them with shorts.

I’m not sure that my iPhone (shut up) photos adequately illustrate the difference between the Edward Green monks and my Faconnable monkeys. The retail price difference is about triple and the real difference, other than the understated, less burnished buckle and the sleeker last, is the feel. I can’t photograph “feel”…at least not in ways that will allow me to post the pictures here.

“Faconnable”…ever heard a Southerner try to pronounce that word? Actually, I think Southerners should be banned from trying to say it. First Amendment be damned. “Fashion-knob?” Please.

My monk lineup includes from back-left clockwise (that would be from the upper left corner moving right...for you South Carolinians)... the Leather Soul Alden Algonquin monk strap fuzzy love-child in Whiskey Shell Cordovan, an Allen Edmonds double monk brown suede contrivance, my old, beat-up pair of Fashion-Knob standards and now my E.G. two-Benjamin spoils. Nice.

Onward…pre-Eastering it with LFG on amidst our last two Spring Break days.

ADG, II … Monk...and Double Naught Spy.

Trad Spring Break and the Jay Kos Giveaway

LFG and I are back…momentarily…in Old Town before we execute our next sortie. First stop…Gotham. And trust me when I tell you that sortie-one was all about LFG. Oh, and her travel companion. It’s no longer sufficient to ask that I, the Daddy Rabbit…fun daddy that I am…be the sole travel partner on holiday. This was our first spring break endeavor involving one of LFG’s schoolmates. And it was a blast—rain and all.

A cloudy Gotham mist was predicted so we swathed and shod accordingly. Butcept LFG outgrew her rain slicker. That would be procurement one when we arrived in New York.  I left Union Station already shod for the day. White moleskins from Cording’s and Bean bluchers.

The Waldorf Astoria…A suite… and a couch for daddy in the parlor and of course, the girls get the bedroom.

See that closed door? That be the bedroom. And daddy’s not invited. It’s a new day for daddy…and a cloudy one not only outside the walls of the Waldorf. Just kidding—kinda. I read Flashman while they giggled and did girly stuff.

 I’m sorry that I’ve had to distort the lovely visage of LFG’s little friend but not everyone campaigns their kids mugs on blogs like me. Sorry about that Miss K.O’.

First stop…Dylan’s Candy Bar. 

They even had a section for me. This is the Southern White Boy Department.

And speaking of Southern White Boys...I was particularly offended by this.

I told you that this trip to Gotham was not in any way about my agenda or where I might want to go. I found solace rather quickly though, in the form of M&Ms.  Only one sartorial stop by me...and it was completely by accident and...with LFG's permission.

Back to the Waldorf for an early room service dinner. Belgian house shoes de rigueur. It was rainy so I left my new Suitable Wardrobe Willgians at home. 

And yes. Shut up in advance. These Cordings trews are pulling a bit. I'm up about eight pounds. But I remain thinner than you.

Room Service...nine hundred dollars. Creating memories for/with my only child? Don't ask about the total tarrif. Keep in mind...I have a zillion travel points.

The fun quotient equaled the tarrif...this episode in terry.

Really...what could be better than a post prandial evening carriage ride? I wanted to go in the Snoop Dog lowrider illuminatamobile. I got voted down.

"Pay the man, daddy" Ok.

Then on the walk back to the Waldorf, we passed Jay Kos and learned about his moving sale. He's decamping from Park Avenue to SoHo where his eclecticism will be better appreciated. Kos has evolved his edgy tradness towards a bohemian genre that, even though is less my thing, remains style-rich. And he's giving stuff away post haste.

They are blowing the goods out the door and have little time for you to call them and ask what's left. But if you can stop by, chances are you'll find a stunning bargain. Kos does THE best odd trousers in moleskin, corduroy and linen...favoring the top-pocket design that I enjoy. Trousers...three to five hundred bucks...all of them now...one hundred clams a go. And they are going.

The next morning saw us heading over to Rockefeller Center for the Top of the Rock visit. Butcept LFG and K.O'. wanted to stop and scream at some chorus guys from Glee. I'm way out of the pop culture know.

Top of the Rock

And then down to SoHo where LFG asserted that even in the rain, we'd make good on our Paul Frank, Balthazar, Pylones and Evolution junket. And we did. That's the now slickered LFG buying something at Pylones. She carries her own bit of money and pays for things without me standing there with her. I don't like it. I don't like it. She's not growing up. She's not growing up. She's not growing up. Shut up.

Umbertos was looking a little worse for wear. I suppose you can only trade on the lore of Joey Gallo getting popped in your restaurant for so many decades.

ADG mob lore. I know it all.

Evolution remains for us, one the the coolest stores in SoHo.

LFG spent seven dollars on fossils. After I spent thirty on a slicker. Shut up.

Once again, just as I did on our first visit to Evolution, I physically blocked LFG from approaching this area of the bone department. Poor, poor Raccoons.

En route to Pearl River I spotted the J. Crew Men's store on Broadway. With LFG's permission, I walked in for a moment. Nothing, nothing short of an insulting joke. Really. This whole artisnal, vintage, reinterpreted scam is nothing more than a third world sweatshop, poor quality farce. One day, when I'm in the mood, I'll write about why I give Ralph Lauren a pass on his version of this strategy. 

The only thing worth a second glance was this old Jack Londonesque, unrestored oil painting.

Pearl River...I got more use from my Flusser Mac this week than all the time I've owned it. Popped collar and the belt tied behind the jacket. You can spend money on the goods but if you have no sense of style, you won't know how to tweak it. When you posses limited charm like me, you learn how to evolve your style tweaking strategy.

Onward...planning our next little sortie for the week. With a mostly salt...and and little remaining pepper... beard.

ADG, II and LFG...Travelling.