The (not so) White Bucks...for Real

I've talked before about my theory that dirty white bucks are the ultimate Fall, not Summer, shoe. And I've gone on and on about how I wish my own pair would get dirty and worn so that they may find their way into the everyday rotation. But truth be told, I had yet to actually take the plunge. Tonight , Ole Ma Nature took matters into her own hands, as she is wont to do.





I wore the white bucks today, in something of an Indian Summer in New England. 70 degrees, and sweaty humid, with jeans to keep it casual. Just as I was about to leave my job at the local wine shop, she sees fit to open the skies. Fifteen minutes in the rain and mud did these shoes, in my humble opinion, a world of good. I love them this way...the more destroyed, the better. In the Summer with seersucker, white bucks are too dorky, even for me. But beat-to-sh*t and out of season with tweed in the Fall...unmistakeably bad-ass. Of course, this is only my humble opinion, though I hold firm that this will be quite the "look" in New York next fall...mark my words, friends.


I didn't mind the misty weather, though. You see, I had carried around this Harris Tweed jacket all afternoon. Then at night it got cold and damp. With the lapels flipped up, this jacket kept me warm and dry...but the musty smell of wet wool leaves a bit to be desired.

I'm tellin' you...tweed and white bucks are a combo to be reckoned with, boys.

The Trade

A few weeks ago, following a post about excessive use of Scottish Tartan, a conversation sprang up between me and frequent commenter the Young Fogey. You see, Fogey had recently purchased an entire suit in Black Watch plaid, but had mentioned having the pants destroyed and turned into a vest. I implored him not to wreck this piece of sartorial history, offering instead a trade. I, like most thrift obsessed people, have more than a few things that don't fit or I don't wear. So I sent the Fogey, who is smaller than me, two pairs of flannel slacks that don't have enough cloth to let out, and, ironically enough, a Black Watch vest, that sit a full inch above the waistline of most of my pants. The return package arrived today...if you thought my use of thick Tartan wool was excessive before, just wait until this number makes it out onto the streets:


Clearly a product of the 1970's, but it doesn't matter. Everything wasn't a polyester piece of junk back then. This suit may have taken the prize of Giuseppe's Craziest Item. I am giddy with excitement to wear it. It fits like a glove, thought the sleeves and pants are a little long, the simplest and most common alteration. The jacket is a darted two button, and though I'm generally a three button sack kind of guy, some times you gotta bend the rules a bit.

Complete with black braided leather buttons...and check out the pattern matching on the pocket flap! Impeccable.

Made in the U.S.A. by Pendleton. I've owned my share of Pendleton flannel shirts, and my Black Watch driving cap, and even the vest I traded for this gem, are from them, but I never even knew they made suits at one time. I've certainly never seen one until this afternoon. I am duly impressed with the level of quality and craftsmanship, but not surprised. Those shirts of theirs wear like iron, as long as you can keep the moths away from them.

Again, check out the pattern matching. Look at the alignment of the plaid at the pocket and on the waist band, it's perfect. The front pockets on the pants are top pockets, like on a western suit, an odd little detail that, along with the wide belt loops and lapels, puts this sucker in the 70's. But who's gonna argue weird little details when, after all, we are talking about a head-to-toe Black Watch suit.

In the jacket pocket, there was this little card explaining the heritage of the Tartan. Apparently this suit was part of a series. Can you imagine what the other suits in the line must have looked like?

All kidding aside, I think this suit is beautiful. I'm already planning to wear it on a chilly day with a heavy cream-colored cable knit sweater and a tweed driving cap, and I'm certain that I'll be forced to buy a charcoal grey wool turtle neck to go with it. Imagine it under a Chesterfield coat! Versatility might be the last thing you think of with a garment like this, but if ever a suit could function as two separate pieces, this is it. The jacket will look great with jeans or grey flannels, and those pants with a sweater and a navy blazer or Barbour jacket is also a damn good combo.

So, three cheers for the Young Fogey, for going along with my crazy proposal. Thank you so much, my imaginary blog world friend, and know that this piece of cloth has truly found a loving home.

Now what to do with my other Black Watch blazer, now so completely unnecessary?

Mother Nature Trumps Wordly Status Any Day

So, it's fall, and a whole bunch of stuff, both new and old, just made it into regular rotation.

Yesterday, I picked up my vintage Brooks Brothers University Club tweed jacket from my friend, the old Chinese tailor. It had been there for at least three weeks. It's funny, my Mon uses the same tailor, and always gets yelled at for leaving things there too long. I never do, because my kids are cute and Mrs. Chinese Tailor is a sucker for babies. But I digress... The jacket cost me $2.49...dry cleaning and shortening the sleeves cost me $30...As far as I can tell, $32.49 ain't a bad price for a nice, soft , Brooks Brothers sack with a 3/2 roll.
Also just making the rotation are the red cords I bought on sale from Land's End last year. I love these pants...the perfect Fall 'go-to-Hell' pair, loud, but just this side of too outrageous. But I'll be damned if these things aren't a tough nut to crack sometimes. I'd really like to wear them more regularly, so I'm looking for options. Plus, I was Hell-bent on busting out the new tweed, it being cold and rainy today. At a loss for what to do, I remembered an old post about the First Lady on Hollister Hovey hoping she would wear a red and brown outfit to the inauguration (that's right, fellas, it is not only o.k. but encouraged that we occasionally take out cues from the ladies)...then I got to thinking about the Burberry plaid, and how it consists of tan, black, white and red, and so my mind was made up. To further drive it home, I busted out the too-rarely-worn Burberry Macintoch ($9.99, new with tags). Usually, I abhor such shameless brand name flashery, especially at the luxury brand level, but in this case the Burberry plaid actually matched, and it was raining, after all.

Here's a fairly bad photo of the whole look. Forgive me, I've been trying out some new angles, just to keep it fresh. (I don't know why, but this shot makes me think of ADG.)

Here, the accent colors of black and white are carried subtly down to the floor with these $2 socks from the Gap.

All in all, I was happy with this get-up. But as I sat down to write this post, it hit me: This combo doesn't 'work' because of Burberry, or the First Lady, or any of that. It works because of Old Mother Nature...of course. I do live in New England, and it is late October. Mother Nature trumps worldly status any day:

I think I may have just had an epiphany involving red corduroy and brown tweed. Score one for the good guys!

A Confluence of Styles

I tend to get heaped in with the "trad" or "ivy" bloggers. There's nothing particularly wrong with that, I guess. But it is a situation that I refuse to feed and have tried to avoid. Notice, I avoid such terminology like the plague, It's not that I see anything wrong with "trad" or "ivy"...its not that I don't fully understand how I came to be categorized as such...it's just that I've always felt that pigeon-holing ran anathema to true style. I also believe that style is an ever evolving thing, a constantly changing confluence of all the good things one has seen and experienced in life. Get ready, and take your grain of salt now, I'm about to pontificate. Today's get-up provides me with a good spring-board for my arguments:
I usually like to keep it fairly classic, but hell, I'm still young, so out come the jeans. Besides, there's been a lot of dusty, dirty work on the job lately...so I wear work pants.

Not to be a sloppy chump, I pair said work pants with an oxford and bow tie. Bow ties are great when there's dirty work to be done, they stay out of your way.

And since I was on my feet for an excessive amount of time today, rubber soled shoes were definitely in order...like these three toned saddle shoes, a gift from Toad (where the hell are you, Toad?)

I tend to go through phases. I bet the head-shrinks have a drug fro that now. Let me give you a brief rundown of my sartorial phases:

- At age 7, I asked for a sport jacket for my birthday. Mom and Dad obliged with a navy blazer.

-I went to a Jesuit, all boys high school. Considering that, our dress code was amazingly lax: no blue jeans, and a collar on your shirt. Even sneakers were permitted. I wore a suit and tie everyday.

-I worked in a Boston men's haberdashery, ages 16-19.

-In my twenties, I discovered punk rock, a look more fraught with rules and specifics that any kind of "trad". Tight jeans, studded belts, big boots, leather jackets, funny dyed hair...you name it, I did it.

-Then came rock-a-billy, which is kind of like "trad" punk. Crisp jeans, shiny shoes, rigidly combed hair, and so on...

-and now this.

My point is not to "blow my own horn" as it were, but to admit that my current sense of things is the result of all these other things, and will continue to change in the future as I find and become obsessed with still more things, but (hopefully) will always be an expression of myself.

-Jesuit high school taught me comportment.

-Haberdashery taught me...well, just read the damn blog.

-Punk taught me the importance of the right jeans, and the beauty of something that is perfectly worn out and tattered. (Funny, WASP's and punks have their love of the old and worn in common)

-Rock-a-billy taught me to work with the natural wave in my hair, rather than fight it.

-Blogging taught me that there are no end of cool takes by cool folks on the kind of things I like.

-Who knows what the next thing is?

I try to avoid terms like "trad", "ivy", or "punk" because they are way too restrictive, and to me, style is not about restriction. Quite the opposite, it should be about freedom. Look around you, and absorb that which is "cool". Use this knowledge to your advantage. The minute you decide not to wear something, or do something, because it doesn't meet the rules of whatever "thing" you're into this year, it's time to step back and take a breath. Think of the bad-ass people you've known. It's always been about a combination of an eye for quality and the confidence to be a little weird.

Hasn't it?

House and Home: The Ship

A few weeks ago, Mrs. G discovered this gigantic old engraved print in (you guessed it) an undisclosed thrift location. Good thing she spotted it when she did, what with the old nautical stuff being something of the rage of late. $9.99 and a pain-in-the-*ss walk home, and this lovely bit of history was ours:


It took me about a week and a half to get this big thing up on the wall. When we bought it, the glass was filthy, on both sides, the frame was coming apart at all four corners, and the wire on the back was a mess of rust. A careful dis-assembly, cleaning, and re-assembly was undertaken, and the results are as you see them. After doing a bit of research, I've pretty well determined this vessel to be the S.S. Werra, pictured here:

S.S. Werra was a passenger ship operated by the Norddeutscher Lloyd Steamship Company (later Hapag-Lloyd...ever heard of them?). She sailed from 1882 until 1901, for a long time making the run from Genoa to New York. Plus 5 points for bringing my people across from the old country.

Of course, I can't be altogether certain of this. The only info on the print is the name of the Norddeutscher Lloyd company below the picture. I'm guessing this was some kind of advertisement, maybe meant to hang in the 19th century equivalent of a travel agents office. After searching through photos of all NDL's ships, the Werra is the only one that looks like a close match. Two smoke stacks, four masts...most of the others have either one or four stacks, or the wrong number of masts. Pretty close anyway, right?

It's not too clear in the photo, but in the lower right hand corner it reads "Engraved by John A. Lowell & Co. Boston U.S.A. Copyright 1889". That date is also consistent with the Werra. I actually think this thing might be that old. The print is highly detailed, and printed on what appears to be, in my far less than expert opinion, a very thick paper with a high content of cotton fiber. John A. Lowell & Co. was known primarily as a printer of Victorian post cards, but they did do some larger works such as this.

The frames really old, and has clearly seen better days. It appears to have suffered some water damage in a basement. Sure we could have it replaced, but I don't think we ever will. Besides the exorbitant cost involved in such a thing, the Mrs. and I just plain like it this way. Beat up but clean. I believe it's what the kids call "shabby chic". Now let's be clear about something. I understand and even appreciate what the term "shabby chic" means, but I deplore saying it. Makes me feel icky. Such a "look" (if that's even what it is) is perfectly acceptable when it applies to things like a 120 year old framed engraving that's been around the block a few times, but it doesn't fly when applied to cheap furniture at Target that had it's white paint scuffed at the corners in a Chinese sweat shop and actually has the words "Shabby Chic" on the tags. See why it makes me feel icky? I'm almost sorry I said it. Let's call this picture "distressed"...wait, that's just as bad. How about "old". Yeah, that's more like it.

As with clothing, "strong look" items like this tend to work best when paired against other items which are different, but simple, lending to a diverse and eclectic, yet cohesive whole:

Here we see the venereable S.S. Werra as she stans today, on a wall painted a dusty pale orange (our favorite color), above a 1970's vintage Steelcase conference room chair, and an angular modern bookshelf, reconfigured from an Ikea wall shelf I found in the trash on moving weekend in September, stacked with architecture books. A pretty cool interior vignette, if I do say so myself (just did). The little green chair is "the naughty chair". Parents of young kids will know what that means.

And speaking of the boy, let's talk logos for a second. Today I wore a pink university stripe Polo oxford. The boy wore a blue university stripe Polo oxford. He was so excited that we had the same shirt, mine pink and his blue, with the same "horsey" on it. So what if it's a corporate logo? The boy was excited to be dressed like his Dad, and I got all proud. Nothing bad about that, is there?

Influenza

I believe I may have spent the last few days stricken with a case of it. Coughing, sneezing, aching, and a head that weighs about 200 pounds and burns like hell-fire. A fella sure could a long days rest, but two certain small children I know felt otherwise.

No matter, nothing a little hot whiskey with lemon and honey before bedtime can't take care of.

Hot Toddy:

Irish whiskey (dark rum works pretty good too)

2 lemon wedges

honey

hot water

Mix all ingredients with a spoon, drink, crawl into bed, fall dead asleep. Such a remedy may seem quaint and old fashioned, but at the end of a torturous flu-ridden day spent chasing children and jacking up on zinc and vitamin C, it does have it's merits.

I was going to head straight to bed, but I needed something to do while I drank the toddy. Back to superficial drivel when I'm on my game again.

Knowing When to Say "No"

It's not always an easy thing to turn down a spectacular item at a spectacular price. But if shopping at thrift stores has taught me anything, it is the value of discernment. Even when buying cheap, if not especially, a man should insist on a high level of quality and a style that suits him. That said, I was recently forced to pass on one of these:

Patchwork tweed sport coat, The Andover Shop.

The one I found was legitimate, actually the jacket in the picture, actually from Andover Shop, for $7.49. At the Andover Shop they cost $1275 (yikes!). The thing fit me like a glove, but, alas, close inspection revealed it to be more than a little moth eaten. Some things just weren't meant to be , I guess. It's probably for the best, because as much as I like to push the envelope of traditional menswear, if ever there was a tough garment to pull off successfully, this is it.

But damned if it wouldn't have been something with some grey flannels and a cream colored wool turtle neck...

p.s. A.D.G. is back! Score one for the good guys! Good thing I didn't take down his link.

Bundle Up, part 2

Thrifty (cheap) people like me often buy things well out of season in order to take advantage of the outrageous discount. This requires patience, forcing one to wait sometimes months to debut the new finds. And then there is instant gratification...I am, after all, American. Today was cold, tonight was colder, and so the duffel coat made a quick premier:
Let me tell you, it's nice to have a knee length coat option that works in a casual setting.

Worn with a Brooks Brothers cotton cable knit sweater, Ralph shirt, and a $2 silk ascot.

This coat is going to get a lot of use this winter, guaranteed.

Bundle Up

I hold the highly unpopular opinion that the winter is great. I absolutely love it! Snow and cold make for pretty scenery and provide one with the unique pleasure of the satisfaction of entering a warm home and the deep fulfillment of a hot bowl of home made soup. Plus, you get to wear a lot of clothes, one on top of the other. Most people think I'm crazy, but I get excited around this time of year when it first starts to feel really cold outside. Blame it on my December birthday.

Of course, appreciating the Winter for the beautiful thing that it is only works if one is sufficiently prepared. In New England, this means owning a lot of thick, heavy things. Oddly enough, for someone who owns more clothes than decency would allow, I spent last Winter somewhat ill-prepared. My two warmest coats, a chesterfield and a cashmere camel overcoat, hardly made it out of the closet. I love them both, but I just don't dress fancy enough for them that often, especially in the snow. Mostly I relied on my Barbour, which keeps me dry, but I had to supplement it with multiple layers and a down vest for warmth. This week, we've seen temperatures in the 40's. A bit low for October, but it had me thinking. Then today, what should find me at the thrift but:

this big fat dark green duffel coat, $19.99. It has a much roomier fit than I usually go for, which I think is only appropriate for such a coat, deep pockets and a plaid wool lining that's as heavy as the outer coat itself. Seriously, this thing weighs a million pounds, and promises to be the warmest thing I've ever owned.

Bone (o.k....probably plastic) toggles held on with thick leather laces. Reinforced in all the stress points. Made in England, by ???

some company that's been around since 1902. Does that little scrap of label look familiar to any of you? I'm dying to know where this came from. But it's no matter, I know I'm bound to wear this thing a lot in the coming months. I've never been a big fan of overcoats worn over outfits that aren't suits, or at least sport coats, and a duffel coat is the perfect go-between. Casual enough for jeans and a sweater, rakish as Hell over a suit, and Bean Boots know no better counterpart.

Bring on the white stuff!

The Triple Play (or, How to Offend a Scotsman)

I've always been a fan of plaid. I'm particularly fond of vibrant traditional Scottish tartans. Lately this minor obsession has manifested itself in a borderline dangerous proclivity for all manner of outlandish trousers. (see here, here, here, and even here). Most recently, there have been these, a fine pair in heavy yet butter-soft wool:

originally hailing from the most venerable Murray's Toggery Shop of Nantucket Island. They may be most famous for the invention of Nantucket Reds, but apparently, Murray's also did one hell of a job with the cold weather woolens. $7.49, in the Halloween costume department at the local thrift shop. ( I'm telling you, man, the Halloween department is the absolute Jam when it comes to this stuff.)

Needless to say, I've been absolutely dying to wear them, and today, Ole Ma Nature saw fit to grace us with the 45 degree temperature in which to do so. A perfect match to a Barbour coat and cardigan sweater. I only need the hounds and the estate...

Never one to be shy of a bit of sartorial controversy, I decided to sneak not one but two other tartans into this ensemble. Because, you know, these pants just aren't outlandish enough on their own, right.

Note the semi-secret Dress Gordon lining of the coat...subversive...

topped off with a Pendleton driving cap in Black Watch. ( Purchased at the going out of business sale of a Pendleton outlet, $7.99 marked down from it's original $59.99)

And to end it all, a pair of brown suede shoes. Suede shoes and a Barbour? Inexcusable! To think, a wet weather jacket with shoes that get killed by water. But I'll be damned if any other shoes in my closet would have worked half as well. Truth is truth.

If you're Scottish, or of Scottish descent, and you're reading this, feel free to throw your whisky bottle in outrage at the screen. You have every right to be offended by the way some damn Italian American has co-opted your heritage in the name of fashion and vanity. The same goes for any Brits whose military or school colors I probably own on a neck tie. Or you can be flattered. If your stuff wasn't so damn sharp, we wouldn't bother to steal it, would we? Your choice.

p.s. Young Fogey, don't you dare turn the pants of your Black Watch Pendleton suit into a vest. Such a thing is way too rare, and impressive. Either wear it together with pride and confidence, or trade it to me for something more your speed. I beg you...

p.p.s. First Toad and now Maxminimus? What the hell am I supposed to read in the wee hours when I ought to be a sleep anyway?...

Remember Me?

Home computer's been off-line for a few days. Meanwhile, I acquired and or passed over some truly outrageous bits of gentlemen' s finery. We have a lot to talk about....

Be back soon.

Secrets of Thrifting

It's October, and Halloween is around the corner. This means that many thrift shops will be putting together a special Halloween department. In some stores, this means nothing more than a lot of plastic Devil forks, fake moustaches, and cheap wigs. In other stores, it means they will be combing the regular merchandise for "wacky" or "old fashioned" items to upcharge and place out front. It can be a real gold mine for "go-to-hell" pants, bright colors, serious vintage, and all manner of madras. Sure, you have to sort through a bunch of gas station uniforms and the worst the world has to offer in polyester double knit, but at least you'll get a laugh. Bring a friend, it's funnier (and a lot more bearable) that way.


And so, we have these, which are also in keeping with my other secret of buying off season:




One hell of a serious pair of madras pants. They look a little frumpy in this photo, but...
a close up shot reveals a zesty plaid with enough yellow, blue and deep burgundy to match with a wide array of tennis shirts. $9.99. A bit pricey for me, but only because they were in the Halloween department. Hell, if I didn't buy them, some college kid would have puked all over them at 4:00 a.m. November 1st.

Made by "Asher...since 1900". Couldn't find a thing about those guys on the webs. My educated guess tells me that Asher was one of the innumerable clothing factories this country used to have, back when we actually produced anything for ourselves.

Things I passed up:

-Canary yellow wide wale cords by Woolrich, made in U.S.A. (too small)

-Indian patch madras sport coat, in a very pink and green color scheme (too big)

-More killer neckties than I care to mention (I've got enough ties, and I really wanted the pants)

So shop the Halloween department, and try to get over the fact that the clothes you like constitute a Halloween costume for many people.(Still struggling a bit with that). Do these pants make me look spooky? (rhetorical).

p.s. I also got a proper ascot, in a dark green foulard print. That must be wacky too.

House and Home: Coffee Table (finally)

I'm sure many of you have at some point either visited Ikea or purchased something from them online. These days, it's hard to find someone who hasn't. Personally, I have mixed feelings about the place. In some ways, it's great. I've been pretty fond of their cheap glasssware, since I'm clumsy and have a habit of breaking wine glasses. And their general design concept isn't bad, if you have a sort of budget-modern aesthetic. But cheap is cheap, and the quality of most of their goods os really low. Which kind of stinks, because so much of what they sell is destined to be trash bound in a scant year or two. In some cases, you're lucky to get that much time out of it.

Mrs. G. and I have been together for a long time. When we met, we were both living in separate punk-o apartments with piles of roommates, using whatever funiture was culled from the trash, clearing beer cans and other parerphanalia off of the coffee table to make room to eat. Eventually, we moved in together. Our first apartments were a little, shall we say, "kooky". We were developing our own sense of interior style, but we were young rock 'n' roll types, and the houses showed it. As time went by, we began to strive for a more refined and stylish pad, but we were still broke. Enter Ikea. For us it was a godsend. Cheap and easy, and a good match to the few nicer old pieces we had picked up. Soon, our house was full of assemble-it-yourself furniture.

These days, we tend to be a lot pickier. Still a cheapskate, I only buy furniture in the thrift shops. But we've succesfully managed to replace much of the Ikea junk with authentic pieces of our preferred 1960's/early '70's era furniture. And the house has been, if I do say so myself, really coming together quite nicely. Except for the damn coffe table:

This is our old Ikea coffee table, the "Klubbo" model. When I bought it, it was $40. Not bad. A simple white rectangle, with a vaguely German modernist vibe, it was easy to sneak in next to the better pieces.

The surface just couldn't take a beating, especially not as inflicted by a small boy. The above photo shows the table top as it appeared after cleaning. Embarrassing. I'd been dying to get rid of this table for a long time, but these days I'm picky. The thrift stores had yielded nothing to fall in love with, and rather than settle for one we didn't like, we decided to wait it out.

Then just when I think I can't take it no more, I decide to pop in to a particular thrift store that I rarely visit, and there it is, my new coffee table. It's love at first site. Vintage early 1960's, long with a low profile (like our couch), and best of all, rounded corners and a durable wipe-clean surface (read: kid proof). No price tag. I inquired about the price, and was told it was part of a set, which they are unwilling to break up. Rats!....but the set is only $24.99! Sold American.

Not bad. A perfect mate to our 1958 couch/ day bed. Normally, I wouldn't be so brash as to buy a major piece of furniture without consulting Mrs. G. first, but time was of the essence here, so I took the plunge. I knew she'd love it, and I was right. Plus, we've got the matching bonus table, which I don't really even need, sitting on the enclosed back porch waiting for me to find a spot for it. Score one for the good guys!

On Monday, the boy and I watched out the window with glee as the garbage men not only removed the old piece of junk from Ikea (the source of my glee), but also snapped it loudly into shards with the trash compactor (the source of the boys glee).

p.s. The Ikea "Klubbo" coffee table now costs $70. Holy rip-off.

Two Halves Make A Whole

...or do they? One of the cardinal sins of menswear is the breaking-up of suits. But what the hell, sometimes it just works. You may remember the troublesome-green-suit-cum-troublesome-green blazer. Today we see it coming closer to making sense, paired with the pants from a Brooks Brothers tan wool suit...two halves making a whole:

The green blazer, though (possibly) classic in its own sense, is a tricky thing to pull off. I do think this converted suit jacket works better as a blazer, but the key seems to be simplicity and understatement, lest one wind up looking like an old man. Here, it is paired with a sage green Brooks Brothers cotton cable knit sweater ($4.99), white oxford, and pink paisley square...just to keep things from getting frumpy:

and , as always, a good pair of shoes holds things down nicely:

I have to admit, all day long I went back and forth over this jacket. I think I like it, but I'll be damned if it isn't a tough nut. I almost tried it with a tie, but I looked like grandpa at a funeral in the Summer, or something. I kept thinking I should get rid of it, then kept thinking I should keep it. I suppose it's not worth it, if it occupies my head so much. But then I started thinking about details, and how I like a blazer to have patch pockets, only this one doesn't, because it's not a blazer, it's the jacket to a suit. But I still have the pants. Maybe I could have the tailor fashion some patch pockets out of the material of the pants. That would make all the difference, right? Or is that way to much trouble, money and effort to spend on a borderline ugly thrift store find?

I guess I just don't know this time. Advice welcome.