Green Grass, Blue Skies and...Duck Fat

My trip to the North country was nothing short of wonderful, a weekend filled with glorious weather, fine food, plenty of drink and gentlemanly haberdashery. And of course, a beautiful wedding between two wonderful people. Perfect.Seriously, if that setting isn't idyllic, I don't know what is. Abundant sunshine, 72 degrees. Can you think of better weather for wearing a suit outdoors?

The old Summer house belonging to the bride's parents. A great place to enjoy cold Cava and oysters on the porch before retiring to the party tent down the hill for dinner and dancing, or in my case, playing the music that the rest of the guests danced to. You see, the groom is a former band mate of mine, and he asked the boys and I to learn a few numbers suitable for the occasion. An honor indeed.

I'm fortunate to roll with a group of close compatriots who can more than hold their own in a sartorial throw-down. In case you don't believe me, just look at how well-turned-out these boys are:

Grey and white seersucker suit, the old kind with the really wide stripes, vintage 3/2 sack. Paired with a blue mini-check button down and a black silk knit tie.

Cotton khaki suit, French blue shirt and a cotton tie in red and white gingham check. Homeboy also sported navy and white striped braces and a Timex watch on a grosgrain ribbon band.

The prize goes to this chap. Brooks Brothers blue cotton chambray suit, 2 button sack, patch pockets, probably 1970s vintage. I actually found this one in a vintage shop, but it's a 36 short. I immediately informed my buddy, who wears said size, and he pounced. Extra points for pairing it with a pale lavender shirt and an even paler yellow tie, and a yellow flower, sans pocket square. I told you, I run with the big boys.

My own togs in action, finished by the appropriation of this orange flower from the centerpiece on our table. Don't forget, I was wearing bright orange socks too.

Of course, a guys just gotta dress well when the band equipment is all old and pretty, right? Check the circa late 1950s Gretsch "Chet Atkins" amp. Honestly.

If only I had the guts to ask strangers for photos, because you can't believe some of the duds dudes were sporting at this shindig. In case the photo of the house and "grounds" didn't give it away, the brides family has a little money, and that money is old, like coastal New England old. I mean like I met a guy named Wyn, and another guy named Buzz. You get the idea.

One old dude was wearing an orange and white seersucker jacket, which he bought for his Princeton reunion, much to his wife's chagrin, judging by the way her eyes rolled not at his being asked about it, but at his pleasure in talking about it. "Who wants to be just another navy blazer?" he said...or something like that.

At one point, I noticed that the brides father and three or four other dudes his age were all wearing the same striped tie, green and white, wide bars, looked to be vintage. Later, I asked her "Your Dad's tie, must be from a club, right?" Without a blink she replied "Porcellian Club, Harvard, class of 1958." Read the link, the Porcellian Club is the oldest private college social club in the country, like the Skull and Bones at Yale, only more exclusive and prestigious. So prestigious and exclusive that you might not ever have heard of it. Now, I do like a striped tie, but it's really unwise to wear one when you infiltrate the hardcore WASP sub-strata. These guys know their stripes, and can smell whether you "deserve" them or not.

But enough about threads...

On the way back, I took a brief detour in Portland to visit Duckfat, a little bistro known for it's fries, cooked in, you guessed it, duck fat. Decadent doesn't describe it. These fries were delicious and crispy with a richness like no others. In contrast, the delicate sweetness of Maine local Belgian style brew Allagash White provides the perfect counterpoint.

The braised pork belly panini, with pickled carrot and radish and a zesty mustard sauce weren't bad neither. Thin and crispy, like a panini should be, with a bit of an Asian vibe. If you're in the Portland neighborhood, give Duckfat a try.

The drive home also brought me through Kittery, home of the outlet mall. Irresistible. I checked out plenty of stores, but I was good. It wasn't until I visited the Barbour outlet that I was separated from my money.

Eggplant colored cords, $12.50! Remember, the word corduroy is said to bederived from the French "Cord du Roi" meaning the cloth of kings, and purple is a historically regal color, therefore purple corduroy pants are a slam-dunk, right?

And how could I resist this olive green corduroy cap with embroider pheasants on it, a scant $25?

But there I go, getting all off topic...

Congratulations Sam and B. Here's to many wonderful years together!