The Forgotten One

Just the other day, I had a massive thrift shop haul. Among the items I gathered was this chocolate brown corduroy sports jacket, for $6.99, less 50%, $3.49. It's missing a button and needs to be cleaned and pressed, but it's definitely a worthy acquisition. I call it "the forgotten one" because a corduroy jacket is something I tend to forget about as an option.

I don't find many of them out there, and when I do they tend to be a little too worn to salvage. Being cotton, corduroy doesn't hold up as well as wool. Frequently, they are worn down at the elbows, edges and other stress points.  This one shows just a pinch of that, but not to an unwearable degree. 

This one is from Brooks Brothers, and is very comfortably tailored, with no darts and barely any padding in the shoulders, which suits the overall laid back vibe of such a garment. I have seen similar jackets in a more tailored cut, but they never quite click for me. A cord jacket should be slouchy and comfy. Worn over a shirt and tie with flannels or khakis, it should have a softening effect. Worn with jeans and a sweater, it can bring things up just half a notch, but just enough. I plan to put this one with charcoal trousers, tassel loafers knit ties, and blue shirts. Turtlenecks should work well too.

Tres Wes Anderson perhaps, but that's not a bad thing. Don't forget the corduroy sports jacket.

p.s. I may be late to the party, but I just joined Style Forum, user name Giuseppe Timore. Drop by the "introduce yourself" thread and reply to my post there to say hi.

p.p.s Tons of new stuff in the Shop this Saturday. Hits the online store early next week.

Thrifty Kids, part 3

Few things ward off a bone chilling cold like a big comfy sweater and soft cords. The boy shows us how its done.

The red flannel shirt was a Christmas gift from a family friend, and he loves it. It makes me smile to see my kids developing a real taste in clothing. The sweater is knitted of oatmeal colored wool with brightly colored flecks throughout. Once again, the boy has something better than his Dad's version.

I'm not a fan of the look of an untucked shirt hanging out below the sweater on a grown man, but it's just the thing on a six year old boy.

Classic bucks, recently found for $2.99 at a thrift shop.

The sweater is the real deal, made in Ireland. Found by Mrs. G for less than $10. If I had to pay retail for such a thing, my boy wouldn't have one. But it's no matter. Like I said, penury is not an excuse.

p.s. Thanks to all of you who have been purchasing items in the sale. I've added new items to the Shop and decided to extend the sale through midnight Tuesday. As before, the code WINTERSALE used at checkout will apply a 20% discount to you entire purchase.

Cabin Fever

When the hurricane comes to town and you get shut in for the day, it can be hard to fight the old cabin fever. True, its only one day, but one day locked up can drive us modern city types crazy. You can either feed the disease by staring out the back door wondering if the rotten old tree in the neighbors yard is going to fall on your house (which it didn't, thankfully),

...or you can take the opportunity to cook something for six hours or more, just for the Hell of it. For me, this means channeling the ghost of my Nonna and cooking up some serious old school tomato sauce. Since I certainly wasn't dressing for anything yesterday, and since its a been a while since we geeked out about food here, I thought it was time.

The whole thing begins at 11 am with some very thick cut, country style pork ribs. For other recipes, meat like this is way too fatty, but trust me, after an entire day in the pot that fat is going to melt away into the sort of robust, earthy flavor so satisfying during such bad weather. It's a flavor that cannot be imitated in any health conscious or low fat way, but since we rarely slow down enough to eat this way, who cares?

After a liberal seasoning of salt and pepper is applied, the ribs are browned in a heavy pot over high heat in olive oil. This shouldn't take more than a few minutes per side.

After the meat has browned, throw in a chopped white onion and five or six cloves of mashed garlic, along with a liberal dose of red wine. Let the meat cook in the wine for a bit, turning once.

I firmly believe that it is a wasteful sin to put good wine in the sauce pot, but I don't abide the use of junk in any situation. Salvalai Valpolicella is a dry if simple Northern Italian red that can be had for $8.99 where I live. Cheap enough for the sauce but drinkable enough for a pizza. The bottle I grabbed was missing its front label. Call it taking one for the team.

Next in is the tomatoes. In truth, any brand of canned tomatoes will do, but if you can get them I prefer Pomi chopped tomatoes in the paper carton. They are a bit more expensive than some brands, but still only $1.99 a carton. Imported from Italy, they are brighter with a fresher taste and no other ingredients than tomatoes and they're juice. I find the chopped kind to have just the right consistency, cooking down beautifully into a chunky sauce.

For this sauce I used two cartons. After pouring in the tomatoes, loosen the meat from the bottom of the pan. This insures that it won't stick to the pan, and allows the sauce to flow under and around it. Up to this point, the whole process takes about twenty minutes. Like all great Italian cooking, the beauty lies in its sheer direct simplicity. All that's left to do is put the lid on slightly ajar, turn the flame to the lowest setting, and wait until dinner time. Occasionally move the meat around a bit, and enjoy the smell that will soon fill the entire house as you look contentedly from your favorite chair at the howling storm outside.

Cooking wine is one thing, but drinking wine is another. A meal like this is a celebration really of the fact that for once we can all slow down, even if our relaxed pace was forced on us by Mother Nature. As such, despite my consummate cheapskate-ism, I decided that something special was in order. Fabiano Amorone della Valpolicella Classico 2007 is a big, gutsy wine. Tight as a fist when its first open, I decanted this bottle at Noon and left it aside until dinner. At $50 a bottle, it sure isn't cheap, but you get what you pay for. Besides, you know I didn't actually pay that much for it.  Working in the wine trade has its advantages.

Come 6:00 pm, I boiled a pot of water to cook up some pasta to serve with it. The meat was so tender it fell from the bone, and a fork was all that was needed. This kind of food takes me back to my childhood, when the house was constantly filled with the comforting smells of slow food such as this. Back then my Nonna did the cooking, but she did it in the same kitchen, and for me that's something special. 

Since this is ostensibly a clothing blog, I suppose I should mention that I spent the day in an old pair of olive green cords and a worn plaid shirt, both by Brooks Brothers, with a pair of Toms on my feet, because dammit, they are comfortable. I showered, but I didn't shave.

I have to admit, I enjoyed the hurricane. In fact, I could use a day like that more often, so long as a tree doesn't fall on the house.













Tweed Twice

A brown and tan herringbone tweed jacket in soft. luxurious wool, natural shoulders, two button darted front, braided leather buttons, half lined, and a tie in brown tweed with red, yellow, and orange flecks, square end, vintage 1960s Rooster for Yale Co-op. The leftovers of the Top Shelf Flea. (No one bought these??? C'mon fellas, get on the stick.) Seen with a brushed twill shirt with spread collar in rust, hunter green, and black tattersall check on cream ground by Ralphie ($4.99), collar pin worn as tie pin from the Andover Shop, and an ecru pocket square I've had since Simon's.

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Below, 8 wale cords in "cinnamon" and brown cotton socks with olive and rust checks, both by Lands' End in some crazy end of season feeding frenzy,  Brown suede split toe Allen Edmonds "Bradley", had for a song.

You can't beat Autumn for richness of texture and color. Dress for the season. It's more fun that way.



Country Is Where You Find It

Seems I always find myself writing something about what used to be known as country clothing right about now. After all, the weather has just turned crisp and being a clothes nerd, my attention immediately turns to corduroy, tweed and flannel.

I may be a city kid, but I do ocassionally find myself in places that look like this, especially on Monday holidays when the kids have the day off.

Parlee Farms in Tyngsborough, Massachusetts, just shy of the New Hampshire border, may not be the most rustic farm in the world, but it's a great place to take your kids to pick apples, feed the goats and generally run around with millions of other city kids whose parents have taken them out for some fun in the fresh air of New England. And they have hot apple cider doughnuts and pumpkin muffins. No such thing as too many of those.

This being ostensibly a shallow clothing blog, let me profer that 8 wale cords, an oxford shirt, and down filled nylon vest are perfect attire for catching a three year old girl in flight at the hay maze. A vintage cap in Donegal tweed and honey brown pebble grain bluchers finsih the job. You didn't think I was going to suggest a tweed suit with plus fours, did you.? I'm not, despite what many may think, that crazy. I do like to look like a grown-up, but I don't want to be a stiff, though I am fully aware that as the only man there in shoes (not sneakers) with his shirt tucked in, I'm the modern definiton of just that. So be it.

Dressing for Fall is all about utilizing the colors of the season. Rust, gold and brown blend in seamlessly with a setting of dirt paths, turning trees, and a newly acquired giant pumpkin which now graces the entrance to our city dwelling.

I may never go on a duck hunt in the English countryside, but it's no matter. Country is where you find it.



Tartan and Tweed



The air was crisp, clean and brisk this morning for pancakes and bacon on the porch with the kids. Looking forward to some tartan and tweed, and their friends flannel and corduroy. Here's to Autumn.