Darn It

Thrift shopping often means finding great old stuff only to discover that the reason someone got rid of it is because it's damaged in some way. Combine that with the damage the wool moths can do to your old clothes in your old closet in  an old house, and you frequently wind up dealing with little imperfections like the one pictured above. 

I found this knockout tartan jacket back in March, and it's been waiting patiently in the storage closet since then. I don't remember whether this little hole was there when I bought it, but it doesn't really matter. As I drag it out of the closet and think about how great it will the two, maybe three times, I wear it this Winter, I need to decide how to deal with that pesky little hole. 1/8 inch may not be much, but it's enough.

Lots of times, with holes this small, of it's only one or two, I just live with it. Densely patterned jackets like this one or natty tweeds tend to hide a little hole well enough. If it were elsewhere in the jacket, I might not even care. But this one's right up front.

Of course, the best option here would be reweaving, where an expert would take thread from a hidden spot on the coat to actually reweave the missing part. It's very difficult work, magical even, that can only be performed by an expert specialist. It's also extremely expensive. As great as this coat is, I don;t think I can justify the expense. So, instead, I'll just darn the hole. A trip to the local sewing machine store for a spool f bright red thread, a sharp, thin, needle, and we're set.

A few careful passes with the needle, not pulling the stitches too tight, and the hole is much improved. Not perfect by any stretch, but definitely better and less noticeable from only a few feet back. I often talk here about a lack of money not being a hindrance to having the good stuff, but sometimes you do have to make the best of what you've got.

Besides, in writing this, I realize that it might not be such a bad idea to have my tailor attach a black velvet collar to it, and find and excuse to wear it with a tux, brass buttons and all. Now that would be something.

p.s. my apologies for the sparse posting lately. Technical difficulties should hopefully be remedied tomorrow.

Controlled Chaos

With Summer comes a big fat does of color in a mans wardrobe, most noticeably perhaps in the form of extreme plaid madras trousers. Outrageous though they may be, they are in a way a form of controlled chaos. Their natural counterparts being almost invariably the very staid combo of white tennis shirt and navy blazer, they come in varying degrees of outrage...but there is a method to the madness.

At the "introductory" level, we have a pair like this. For many men, this may be far over the top...not just a little, but climbed-the-ladder-and-jumped level. I say kids stuff. In only one plaid, albeit a large one, a pair of trousers like this can be the stepping stone to that which lies beyond...the dreaded, and much revered, patchwork plaid.

 Level two sees us in these, a patchwork pair from J.Press. Patchwork can seem rather crazy, but there is almost always a clear pattern to the assemblage of patterns. In my humble opinion, these are barely more than lightweight. Comprised of merely three different plaids in what is clearly a checkerboard repeating pattern, they're hardly a jump from the single plaid. The overall feel is one of dark colors, too, the pants being viewed generally as olive green or navy.

 Level three continues the thread, but adds more separate plaids to the mix, this time eight. The crazy factor gets a further tweak by the bright primary color scheme. Yet, as before, the pattern repeats clearly. This pair is old, but this particular grouping of plaids has been fairly ubiquitous in the last few Summers of our "preppy-Americana-heritage-revival" trendiness.

The pinnacle is reached in a pair like this. We'll call this Level Four Patchwork Go To Hell. A real old pair from the early 1960s, made of real vegetable dyed "bleeding" Indian madras, and cut nearly stovepipe straight. Look closely at the repeat, if you can find it. Each column down repeats five different plaids, but no column repeats across. And yet, there is a consistency of color and scale that keeps them in check, maybe even better than the pair in level three, almost certainly better than level two. The higher the level of chaos, the steadier the control of the wearer. It's almost as though the more daring you're willing to get with this stuff, the better you'll pull it off. Keeping your mouth shut and behaving as though there is nothing unusual about those crazy pants you're wearing makes all the difference.

In a largely conservative and old fashioned wardrobe, the best place for a man to indulge in a pinch of controlled chaos is in his pants.

p.s. #s 1 & 3 are available for sale in The Shop, along with some old seersucker and other things. 2 & 4 are mine...eat your heart out.