Showing posts with label Luggage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Luggage. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

ADG: The Battenkill Poseur or Stick it Tumi

“Anonymous has left a new comment on your post "Travel Kit...Again": Battenkill luggage is for the sportsman. If you're not toting a double-gun or a fly rod with it then you're posing. And even then, you're missing the boat because Simms makes a better product for that purpose. For business travel, Tumi is the road warrior's choice because it's well designed and indestructible.”
Well thanks for the update, Sporty Road Warrior. You’ve called me out and put me right where I belong…in poseur land. It’s interesting that neither Hulme nor Orvis have a vetting process in place to assure that their goods go exclusively to the double-gun/fly rod toting crowd. Perhaps Simms, your choice for such things, runs a tighter commercial ship than the cats who source me my stuff.
And Tumi? It is virtually indestructible. So much so that I understand they offer refunds, replacements and guarantees that are second to none. I wouldn’t know first-hand because I wouldn’t be caught dead with a piece of Tumi luggage. Then again, what do I know? It seems that all of your information and rules-customs would only be known to those high falutin’ Sportsmen and Road Warrior cliques. Perhaps I’ll be less ignorant of Road Warrior choices when I become one. Maybe when I become a real business traveler, the Tumi Troops will recruit me. How many nights out per year must one have to avoid Tumi poseur-essence?
Tumi is durable and it also reeks…of your gold bracelet and your Acme Distributors President’s Club ring…Mr. Eleven Time Winner with the cubic zirconia surrounding the fake center stone…one zirconia per win. I also get a waft of Tiger Eye pinky ring—when of course, you aren’t wearing your President’s Club ring. Even you know when to not over-overdo it. Tumi boy. I understand that other colors are now offered in addition to the standard Tumi black. It makes no difference to me. The Tumi taint is irreparably seared into my psyche. In black...Nylon noir. Shut up.
Tumi is the spandex biking short of luggage. Functional and ugly as shit. Tumi says Hilton Honors Points bragger and Airline VIP boarding preener—with a holster for your Blackberry. And Dockers…size 40x29…riding a tad high in the back…tucking just a bit into your ass-crack cul de sac while diving rapidly south in front…to accommodate your Tumi boy belly. The midnight buffet on the eleven President’s Club Carnival Cruise to Nowhere Award Trips has always been just too much for you and your wife  to resist. “And the old lady loves it too” you’ve been known to declare. You call your wife “the old lady.” Classy, you. Just like your Tumi. 
So here’s to you, Sporty Road Warrior…Tumi boy with a timeshare at Wildwood Crest…inappropriate business conversation on the phone haver while sitting on the tarmac. We’ve all loved listening to your only-you-know-what-they-mean company acronym laden too loud phone conversations while standing behind you and your Tumi(s), trying to get to our seat. Congratulations on getting the exclusive supplier contract for Sam’s Club and Costco. Everyone on the plane now knows about it. Something tells me that you, the old lady and your Tumi(s) are headed for President’s Club number twelve.

Onward. Tumescently.
ADG II…Poseur

Saturday, January 14, 2012

The Christmas Haul

Someone asked me to weigh in on the Christmas loot that LFG and I accumulated and I figured I better get to it before the Holiday memories become even more distant. But before diving into the materialistic nirvana of our goods, let me offer up a bit of prophylactic karma. (Karma for my damn self—to shroud this “look at all the cool and expensive stuff that we got” story in hopefully, some level of social responsibility and gratitude so that God won’t slam me with another broken molar this weekend. You my friends, are responsible for your own karma depleting/escalating tactics. Shut up.)
I like stuff. But I’ve learned some tough lessons about allowing money and possessions to ride in the front seat of my life journey buggy. And…I believe that giving anonymously has more gravitas than indexing the amount you give to how prominent your name will be on the donors list or where and beside whom you’ll be seated at the charity event. But for a moment, I’ve just gotta mention what LFG and I give, before we preen about what we get.
Our charitable giving is kid centric. It’s my choice and I like the measureable efficacy of the money that’s given to a select few charities. It’s the business modelling-measure the value of the effort-consultant in me. I’m hopelessly commercially minded. It’s what I do for a living. And to that end, I like the fact that when I give two hundred and fifty bucks to Smile Train, I am guaranteed that at least one child will receive the restorative surgery necessary to literally change forever, the trajectory of their life-journey. So there are a half-dozen of those little people somewhere in the world that as a result of what LFG and I’ve done in 2011, have mouths, lips and palates that now look right and function properly. Ok, before you begin to contrive your scalding ass comments, calling me out for bragging about our charitable giving; chill out. At the risk of redundancy, I’m telling you that this little bit of giving pales breathtakingly when compared to the obscene level of getting that LFG and I experienced at Christmas.
And we love Meg Fairfax Fielding for about one point eight gazillion reasons and if for no other, we would give every year to Woodbourne. But the other reason that we always give to them is that older kids seem to get forgotten by society faster than others. It’s no secret that a healthy new-born child usually gets adopted quickly. But let a kid get a little older or have a special need or be a minority and the chances of placing them become much tougher. So I believe that places like Woodbourne are doing sublime work by creating an environment where their kids have a better chance of growing up and becoming self-sufficient members of society. LFG and I gave to Woodbourne in 2011 and we’ll do it again this year.
And finally, my business partners and I decided about a decade ago to change how we expressed appreciation for our clients. My partners and I are blessed with healthy, happy children. LFG of course, is smarter and prettier than any of them but that’s beside the point. We decided that instead of sending all of the holiday gift baskets and booze and typical loot that every other vendor and consultant also sends, we’d do something better. The Make a Wish Foundation offers, as you probably know, an opportunity for a terminally ill child to experience their dream trip, event or whatever. I can’t imagine what it feels like to learn that one’s child is terminally ill. But what I can imagine is how it feels to know that a terminally ill child will realize their wish. We send one child each year on their way…to whatever experience it is that will bring them some joy. And we make sure that our clients know that we are doing so in their honor. 
Whew, now that I’ve gotten all that karmic penance shite out of the way, let’s get to the good stuff. And let’s start with LFG. This Christmas was different in a couple of ways and mostly because LFG is older and the magic of the “throw any toy under the tree and they’ll squeal with delight” strategy is over. She wants, surprise I know, in addition to a sock monkey hat... clothes and money and gadgets. But I ended up faring rather well with my choices for her.
I’m gonna begin with the one thing that I was proudest of…LFG delight-wise. LFG tried on this cute little blazer several months ago in Brooks Brethren. It was too expensive for a jacket that even she couldn’t articulate how/when/where she would wear it. I figured that if I ever saw it at 60% off, I’d buy it for her. But from time to time, she would bring up unprompted, “that navy blazer.” And then she saw a ladies standard, less twee looking navy blazer in Brooks and said that she liked that one better.
Alas, it ain’t easy to find a navy blazer for a little girl. I tucked into J. Crew on Christmas Eve eve…the day I began my shopping this year, and saw a rack of ladies navy blazers. A nice sales lady talked it out with me and we decided that I should give a ladies size “0” a go. She said that if it didn’t work that I could return it and she’d order a “00” to try.
Folks…the navy blazer was THE hit of all the gets. LFG loved it and when I said that we could have Suh shorten the sleeves she resisted…demonstrating that she’d want to push the sleeves up on her arms. And like her tacky-a_s fuzzy daddy, she undid a couple of the working sleeve buttons.
I’m not sure why this particular gift of all things, had me bursting with pride. Maybe there's some kind of Trad neuroses bubbling up courtesy of the iconic navy blazer. Shut up.
I think that Hunter Wellies were barn mucking, utilitarian boots for generations. Not no more. They come in an array of colors and the fleece interlining socks are an interchangeable fuzzy accoutrement that just adds whimsy to the whimsical.
LFG preferred purple boots and she’s got pink and purple fleece fuzzies to swap out when so inspired.
And she loved the Vineyard Vines fleece vest and bracelet so much that we gave a similar vest to one of my business partner’s daughters.
And then LFG’s stocking began to ring. Yes, I bought her an iPhone. With very rigorous utilization criteria and consequences associated. And we allowed LFG to collaborate with us regarding what the rules should be. Before you tisk tisk and eye-roll over this one, hear me out. LFG already had a cell phone in her back pack for emergencies. She already had an iTouch for games and Apps and all the other things kids do with these delightful Apple devices. She is required to give her iTouch to charity. Her old cell phone is now obviously, shut off. Her mother and I have full access to her passwords, her emails and her texts. And on a selfish note, I can now call her and text her without having to undergo the hit and miss triage/middle person process of calling her mother and seeking telephone access to LFG that way.
So as always, it was a good Christmas for LFG.

And the obscenities don’t end there. For I was extry prone this year to practice a few highly skilled tactics myself. First, I did the “buy one for them and one for me” gift strategy. Next, I did the “tell them exactly what you want so that you don’t get shitty gifts” thing. And the outcome was perfect.
I love one hundred year old lead soldiers but I’m also a huge fan of how Bill Hocker of Berkeley California interprets the old ones. His story, not only about how he came into creating these contemporary versions of antique toys, but about the people he employs to help him, is a great one.
And so I got the Hocker Boer War Observation Balloon and another grouping of his little lead men.
Fuzzy Dog sweaters from J. Press are nice but they are so darned thick that unless it’s twenty degrees, my a_s tends to overheat in them. But I’m really digging the less expensive, thinner version that Rugby offers.
And of course, my Hulme leather Gladstone bag from Sterling and Burke is stellar. The jury is still out on how well it’s gonna work as a carry-on. Stay tuned.
My Anglo American tortoise sunglasses frames served me well for over a decade. And I decided on my Gotham stopover the week before Christmas, to replace them with an updated, lighter colored tortoise version. Same size, same everything. The guys at A.R. Trapp just popped my prescription lenses into the new frames and bam.
Uncle Alan Flusser bestowed upon me yet another pair of his bespoke Poulsen and Skone shoddings from thirty years ago. Sublime.
Drakes scarf. Yep…that rounds out my Christmas loot for 2011.
Oh, and I almost forgot the most intriguing find that I gifted myself this Christmas. It was absolute serendipity that I was offered these four large scale, hundred year old Georg Heyde lead soldiers. They are rare to the point of virtually unobtainable. I’d only seen one of these size soldiers one other time before. And you don’t even want to know what the tariff was in these four musket-damn-teers.

I’ve gotta close this drivel and get back to writing stuff that actually pays wages. I think that perhaps now you see why I took the time to drone on at length about giving…before crowing so much…about getting.

Onward. Having gotten. And now giddily prepping for an LFG weekend.


Saturday, July 9, 2011

The 2011 L.L. Bean Go-to-Hell Boat and Tote

I’ve usually engaged my GTH trouser cache full-force by this time of year. But since that darned Dermatologist waived me off of my usual sun consumption, my enthusiasm for GTH pants has been dimmed. More on this issue in another post.
But that didn’t stop LFG from going over to the L.L. Bean website and creating our first ever GTH Boat and Tote. “I can pick all the colors, right?” To which I of course replied yes.
So here we are. Our inaugural fuzzy diced GTH Tote. I’m thinking we’ll kick off each new summer with one.
Besides, who in God’s name would ever steal this from us? A voice of reason posited that it should at least have a navy blue enclosure. Kinda like putting a Blazer on a turd.
Onward. Fuzzy is as fuzzy-does. And committed to the ongoing practice of beginning sentences with And or But. Butcept when I choose not to.

Friday, June 11, 2010

“…he favors pants that can stun small animals at 50 paces…”

Trad Week Wrap Up
I’m blessed to be busy and haven’t had much time to read blogs, write posts or post comments. And wouldn’t you know it; I missed a bit of fun over at G-Man’s blog…An Affordable Wardrobe. Seems that a couple of his devotees really threw the lumber to me the other day. I’m honored to incite such reaction to my garish-fuzzy diced oeuvre. Young Fogeyanimal stunning at 50 paces indeed…Indeed. I’m honored by the characterization. 
And regarding the three pounds of brass on the Wiley Brothers belt…you are off by a pound. It requires four ...just the right ballast to stones. Khaki Bill…I essentially have two modes…work/client interaction where my dress is appropriate or I’d starve and Trad Homeless…where quite frankly, as you’ve discovered, I could give a damn.
Young Fogey said...

All you need is Belgian loafers and a bunch of silly stuff wrapped around your wrists and you'd look just like ADG, though perhaps your pants are a bit too subdued for him. (He'd probably wear a belt with about 3 pounds of brass on it, too, but we'll ignore that for now.
y'see, uh... well, he favors pants that can stun small animals at 50 paces. He likes clothes that would make Liberace say, "now that's over the top!"

Khaki Bill said...

I'm with the Fogey on this one (I really liked the Liberace line!). Other than style, the only difference I can see between ADG and that tool over at WASP 101 is that at least ADG knows his clothes are garish.

I just don't get how someone who cares as much about clothes as ADG, who spends as much money on clothes as ADG, can still manage to look so bad.

Having said that, I'll say he can look really good when he wants to, but it seems he almost never wants to. The main reasons for going to his blog are either to get tips on how NOT to dress, or for the rubberneck gawking fun of it all…
My wrap up actually encompasses last weekend…my LFG weekend. Soccer is behind us and the lessons learned were huge. Two of the most talented gals from last year went on to play at a higher level and the notion that we would show up and win all but one game, like last year, was disabused early. One Win-Five Ties…a shall we say… “developmental year”. LFG was so tired last Saturday morning. She could barely muster enough energy to dress and buckle in for the journey.
I forced her to give me a smile…she’s my child and I think she looks beautiful in any circumstance. Shut up.
Nothing like another tie game and a trophy to muster LFG’s facetious elements. It was, as Neil Simon so aptly characterized, “Africa hot” last weekend.
I was subordinated to logistics and finance on Sunday afternoon. Chauffeuring LFG and two of her bffs to Eastern Market and Old Town. Great friends...great fun...I enjoyed my role.
I budgeted three dollars each for LFG and her friends at Eastern Market. And wouldn’t you know it—they decided to adorn their wrists with a bunch of tacky garbage. I was allowed to opt out of this hat trick.
My wage earning efforts landed me back in Philly this past week with no breakthrough discoveries, surprises or sartorial assertions worthy of note. I'll be in Miami Beach on business most of next week and am certain to unearth some blog worthy observations from Bling Central. I'm under no assumptions that Miami International Airport will be anywhere nearly as elegant as Philadelphia's train station.
High water seersucker trousers and monk straps shrouding bare ankles...for the ride up to Philly. Homage to Thom Browne...not. I'm more of an Ed Grimley devotee my damn self. 
 The Hulme bag is fast becoming my go to satchel for travel. It's an ADD guy's dream. Just throw and go...
Perilously overdressed for my meeting. Unfortunately I'm not kidding.
Interestingly...I did find nourishment while in Philadelphia. Martinis are kinda like New York Strips. When travelling and you desire either...the variance in the deliverable can be huge. However, both are safe bets because even when placed before you, contrived in a manner contrary to your request, palatability remains virtually assured.
Hitchen's bio arrived moments before I decamped for Philly and I left it at home...pert near kilt me to do so but I had too much work stuff to read. I'm on it now though. 
Ok, y'all have a safe and blessed weekend. Onward...with four pounds of ballast.

Friday, May 21, 2010

Trad Week In Review

My LFG weekend (code nowadays for driving LFG to various parties and activities) is about to begin and I couldn't be happier. Certainly, I'll have other things to post after the weekend but I wanted to close out this week with a dose or randomanalia. My collection of raw material is strong but none of it represents for me, enough fodder for a stand alone post. Therefore, strap in and get ready for the randomnest of randomness.

First let's take up the issue of J.W. Hulme and Company. I had a long talk this morning with one of my best buddies. We covered, and to our satisfaction, solved most of the pressing problems of the world sans how to plug the offshore oil leak. We talked at length about buying American made goods and how it's almost impossible to find anything purely American made. Orvis Battenkill luggage is my go-to carriage for personal and business travel. One of my commenters made me aware that Hulme no longer makes for Orvis so my latest admonishment is....Orvis NO....Hulme YES. 

The Hulme zippered tote is a great way to demonstrate your patriotism and commitment to fueling the economy. AllieVonGDP and I can't do it alone. Jump on in...the water's fine.
Look what rolled in over here ...destination Old Town.
I carry a ton of materials to meetings and this baby will be just the thing to accommodate my props. And I've got an ass load of props.
Tons of space for gadgets.
The portfolio is Hulme-Orvis from fifteen years ago. The good news is that the canvas fades fast and the leather develops a quick patina. Quick Patina...sounds like something from the KamaSutra. I dated a gal named Patina years ago.
So the new tote sits in the sun today...fading. Gotta get some of the new off of it before I show up on the train or at DCA with it.

Anyone else get the Powell catalog? Not sure how I ended up on their mailing list. I've never bought anything from them. Seems like a nice enough bunch of people and the goods are really high quality. Still, I don't see every buying any of their stuff. And please, if I ever pay a buck ninety five for a baseball cap...just slap me. 
Remember the Gremlin? An AMC car right? Wrong in every way. Detroit made laughable attempts to thwart the breathtaking flanking moves by Japan. Remember...Toad drove a Vega at one time. Butcept it was a Cosworth. Shut up. We also had the Pinto and the Duster as defensive ordnance. I almost fell out of my car when I saw this baby the other day. A Gremlin with an antique car designation plate. Oy.
Ok...I've lifted the patch madras ban.
GTH socks keep multiplying at CasaMinimus...I swear I didn't buy these. But I will be wearing the hot pink paisleys this weekend. Shut the.......
The Georgetown Flea Market provided great fodder for my upcoming Geezer Chic post.

So lets talk fried chicken. I love it and only eat it when I'm in South Carolina. So I figure two or three doses of this clucking fried infarction won't kill me. Remember, I can rationalize anything. LFG and I always stop at Bojangles when we are south of Richmond en route to MamaMinimus in S.C.
Good thing that don't have Bojangles north of Richmond right? Wrong. I've been living here forever and had no clue that my lipid levels were in peril courtesy of 'jangles. Someone mentioned to me last week that there was a Bojangles in Prince Georges County and I said no. Then they said yes. Then I said no again. Then I went online.
 6.9 miles....we've got trouble...just over the Potomac. So close but so far...given that the 'hood is kinda dodgy...I'd never have risked going over there. Especially in a Swedish Muscle car. A Saab convertible in P.G. county just screams...."whip my ass-whip my ass-whip my ass". Drive over in a pair of Belgians to boot and there's no telling.
So I get in the car at once because I'll risk my life for fried chicken.
"For here or to go?" Are you kidding me? I don't mind risking life and limb but additional peril, courtesy of the Bojangles dining room is beyond my scope.
Safe and sound back on the veranda...fried nirvana...with a cloth napkin. Kinda like putting lipstick on a pig...or a chicken.
The outcry of ridicule and concern about my other white trash caloric indulgence...The Hungry Man dinner motivates me...especially after the Bojangles confession, to let all of you know that I can and do cook better things. 
Remember my Brussels Sprouts appetizer on Boston? 
Well I replicated it to about the eightieth percentile the other evening. One more go and I'll have it mastered. Shut up.
Now this isn't quite as healthy but I made it...from scratch...butcept the ribs from Christmas. I thawed those babies out as well as reheated some gumbo that I made the other week. If you tasted this corn-you'd want me. Ladies only...ok.
Flat fronts. Kinda defeats the purpose of wearing this latest trend if you've got a big ass belly cascading over a Ralph creation such as these. Even with my level of white trash cooking intake, I avoid the beer belly calamity. Shhhhh.
Jealousy doesn't become you so either head over to Ralph and have some made...after you run five miles and do a few sit ups...or zip it.
You can buy that eleven dollars a pound stuff if you want to. When you come to my house, you'll be drinking this.
Today is Ride Your Bike to Work day in D.C. I drove the thousand yards to my honor of the event. Fossil fuel and fried chicken...and I'm not even a Republican. Both parties repulse me. 
White pants, old RM Williams kangaroo belt and the Paul Stuart table cloth from the other night. Yes, we recycle dress shirts if they aren't dirty. At 17.50 per shirt, we try to wear them twice before having them laundered again.
And monk strap suede shoes? I don't know. I just had a monk strap craving flung my way this morning. Shut up.
I test drove the other pair of O'Connell's bleeders the other day. This is for the ladies. With a backward monogram.
Max Beerbohm, Lord Hawke and Fred Archer await the hanging committee. Hurry.
How do you assure that you'll like your Father's Day gift? You make certain that LFG requests the SKU number and other requisite information for said gift when you are assisting LFG in the procurement of said Mother's Day gift. Bam!
Obsequious customer service folks whose second language is English crack me up. I couldn't resist taking a snap or two of my interactions with a Comcast customer service person...probably assisting me from Bangladesh. 
Here I am having trouble with the service quality and while I'm waiting for Krizza to find a solution, she tries to sell me some more stuff. Stunning.
After my issue was resolved I tried to make a little small talk. Krizza likes Viking movies too.
Just to let everyone know...LFG and I are going steady. She's wearing my ring now.
And finally...Have a Good Day!



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