Cheaper Than Cheap

For those of you who say I never share my sources, I'll throw you a bone:

If you live in Massachusetts, print and clip this coupon for 25% off your purchase at any Goodwill save the outlet in Boston now through 30 November. That's cheaper than cheap. The full pdf can be found here.

I won't give you directions to the Goodwill. You'll have to do that homework yourself. Lucky for you any search engine will turn this info up in seconds.

Don't say I never gave you nuthin'.

Provenance

The "Continental" cut, broad shouldered with a full chest and low button stance, rendered in rich blue wool serge. An excellent example of the style, circa 1956.

Three open patch pockets, sewn on by hand, and old fashioned creased sleeves.

Roped shoulders, an Italian touch. This is, after all, Continental.

A ventless back, in keeping with the style, a skeleton lining and beautiful finish work on the seams.

The trousers are deeply pleated, with full cut legs that taper to large cuffs at the hems. Note the low set of the belt loops and exterior brace buttons.

From Jack Lipton of Boston.

A little while back, I received a phone call from a peppy octogenarian named Ina. She had seen me in the Boston Globe and wanted to know if I might be interested in looking at some menswear she was cleaning out of the attic. I scheduled a meeting and drove to her house a few days later.

As it turned out, my little girl was in tow for this particle "hunting trip". I prefer to do these things alone, but this time it just didn't work out. As we rang the bell and waited, my daughter clung to my leg in shyness. The door opened, and we were met by a sweet old lady in a dress, nylons, heels and pearls, fully made up at home. She melted at the sight of my girl, and the feeling was reciprocated. Young and old, fast friends at first sight.

Ina had dragged a bunch of her husbands things down from the attic. Having been ten years since his passing, her daughter had urged Ina that it might be time to let some of his things go. She was ready to clean out the house, but I could tell it had taken her some time to prepare. As my daughter enjoyed a cookie and milk in Ina's fantastically cute 1970s kitchen, I had a look at the clothes. There were a couple of good tweeds, some flannel pants, and this blue suit. Ina told me that this suit was the one her late husband Sydney wore at their wedding in 1956. Jack Lipton, as she recalls, was the place to go when you wanted something really special with a bit of European flair. For normal clothes, they shopped at Filene's. This suit was worn only a handful of times, and well kept. Sydney was an electrician, she explained, and rarely wore dress clothes. She was the one with the clothes madness, it seems. She picked out all of these duds for him, but old Sydney was game, and not afraid to wear her picks, not even the pink flannels.

We agreed on a price/consignment plan, but as I got ready to take the clothes out to my car, I could see her hesitate a bit. "You know, Ina", I said, "you don't have to sell me any of this stuff. If you're not comfortable with this, we don't have to do it. If I leave here empty handed, it's no difference to me. I don't want you to be unhappy about this."

She paused for a minute, looked up and said "It's o.k. I know his things will be in good hands with you."

"I promise to do what I can to find Sydney's clothes good new homes."

When we left, Ina gave my girl a hug, and my girl said "I love you, Ina." I swear to god, its a wonder we didn't all burst into tears on the spot.

In this line of work, I come across things in all sorts of random and crazy ways. But it's times like these, the people I meet and the stories they tell about the provenance of the clothes I handle, that really make this worthwhile. I often talk about the meaning that clothes have beyond the simple physical fact of what they are, and if this story doesn't illustrate that I don't know what will.

So, if you happen to wear a 42 short and have the confidence to carry off a sharply tailored mid-century Continental look in a well made garment that is in like new condition, consider this suit. Help me keep my promise to Ina.

A Blessing (and/or) A Curse

I tidied up my closet today. A big part of that job involved re-organizing my neckwear. For a guy who is practically never required to wear a tie, I have a lot of ties. True, I may have paid less than $5 for any of them, but still...

I have yet to decide whether this is a blessing or a curse...and achievement or the sign of a problem.

Winter Welcome

Boston saw her first real snow fall today, and I for one welcome it with open arms. Of course, nearly every conversation I had was peppered with complaints, as complaining about the weather, no matter what it may be, is something of a New England pastime. I think we've gotten too soft around here with our recent mild Winters, and I remember when I was a child that snow began to fall in November and didn't stop until April. I view today's weather as a reassuring sign that perhaps mankind has yet to ruin everything. Besides, when you have cold weather, you get to wear tweed.

Tattersall check cotton flannel shirt by Polo, $5.49, old vintage no name wool sweater, $3.99, pretentious ascot, $1.99, vintage English balmaccan coat, $7.99

Blue pencil stripe oxford button down with unlined collar by Lands' End, $5.49, vintage 1970s Rooster "Heatherknit" tie in wool/mohair blend, $1.99, Andover Shop tweed jacket, $8.99

Vintage English tweed jacket, coming soon to the AAW shop, wool challis tie by Polo, coming soon to AAW shop

How can you complain about a little snow when the clothes are this good?

Book Review: 100 Years of Menswear

A few weeks ago, the kind folks at Laurence King Publishing sent me a copy of one of their new books, 100 Years of Menswear, by Cally Blackman, with the request that I review it here. Since  books are my favorite kind of blog-related free swag to pick up, I of course said yes. Forgive me if I'm a little late to the party with this one. I realize that reviews of this book have been popping up all over in the last few weeks. 

I think this is a fun book. Mostly, it's a photo book with very little text at the front end of each section. That's fine with me, given that it doesn't seem to be intended as a definitive tome on the social ramifications of menswear, but rather a compendium of photos spanning a little of everything men have worn in the last 100 years.What strikes me most about it is the diversity of styles the author sees fit to include. If you're looking for (yet another) sycophantic pin-up book about the long lost splendor of the 1930s, this book isn't for you. If however you realize that the sharp elegance of the magic old days is but one piece in a much vaster puzzle, than you may find something to like here.

Of course, we have the requisite illustrations of the 1930s which the menswear blogs have deemed we are now required to drool over...

and late nineteenth century photos and illustrations of men in morning dress, or playing tennis in white flannel suits, or hunting in tweed three piece suits with plus fours. Like so many other menswear bloggers, I love that stuff, but as someone who also has a checkered past in rock n roll, I realize that these things are far from the full story, and so apparently does Ms. Blackman. She managed to amass in a relatively small book lots of great examples of artistic sub-cultural clothing, every bit as much "menswear" as a top hat and tails.

We have original 1960s Jamaican rude boys, in sharkskin suits, skinny ties, and baggy military surplus coats.

Crazy space aged stuff from the 1970s.

And every form of music related dress code, including androgynous glam, zoot suits, and punk rockers like the ones pictured here.

So much of what we read these days on the topic of such an ambiguous term as "menswear" tends to be rather narrow minded. We like to hone in on our own particular point of interest while failing to even acknowledge that anything else existed. We get hung up on particular moments in the past, and paint them romantically to suit our own ideal of it. We create rigid sets of rules which may or may not have actually existed. This book isn't called "A Guide to Ivy League Fashion", or "Best of Laurence Fellows", because those things are not the whole story in menswear, and as such this book attempts to cover it all. You may not like everything you see in this book, and you don't have to. Personally, I find there to be as many things that I find silly as there are things that inspire me here. But that's the point. Men have worn everything in this book at one time or another. Hippies, punks, businessmen, soldiers, coal miners, artists, and athletes all wore something we can call "meswear".  Knowing the full history of any given topic is always more useful than a rose colored and edited version, and Ms. Blackman has given us a concise set of thumbnails that embraces the full story. I like that.

Reader Questions : Shoe Shines

Reader Jonathan writes:

I am a novice when it comes to proper shoe care. I recently attended an outdoor wedding which required a hike down a gravel road. Needless to say, my shoes are now a dusty mess. I would like to begin taking care of my shoes properly, which means learning how to polish them. I am not sure where to begin to find the right supplies. What are the essential elements for a starter shoe care kit? The Hanger Project would have me believe that $195 is what I need to get started. I am not about to spend that much on shoe care. What can you recommend?

Thank you, Jonathan. The best questions are often the simplest ones. The short answer here is that anything for sale on The Hanger Project is all well and good for men who are extravagant enough to spend as much on small items as many people spend on rent or feeding a family, but any sensible person, regardless of income, can and should be able to have the same things at a fraction of the cost. We've discussed this here before on the topic of wooden hangers. As always, my advice is that your money, however limited, is better spent on the clothing itself than on the periphery care items that come in tow.

Vitriol aside, I applaud your conviction that good shoes are something worthy of proper care. The very fact that you even want to know how to polish shoes puts you ahead of so many these days. But allow me to say that my vitriol is far from misplaced. Simply put, all the shoe care items any normal man, even a clotheshorse, is likely to need can be readily had at your nearby Rite-Aid, CVS, Duane Read, Walgreen's or supermarket. Should you be lucky enough to still live in a town where a cobbler plies his trade, so much the better. If you do, ask him what he thinks of paying $195 for shoe polish, rags, and brushes. He'll either laugh outright  or get in touch with Mr. Allison himself for a quick tutorial on how to spot a sucker.

The first step in basic shoe care is cleaning excess dirt off the leather. There are many expensive cloths and salves that accomplish this, but I prefer an old t-shirt cut in squares, wetted in the sink with warm water and wrung out. Cost: $0.00. For really grimy shoes, try an old toothbrush.

Next, apply polish with a dauber. Mine are Kiwi, one for black polish and one for brown, purchased ages ago for less than $5.00 each. Then, rub of excess polish while working it into the leather. Again, old t-shirts work just fine.

Now comes the buffing. You'll need a proper wide, soft bristled brush for this. Mine not only came from CVS for about $6.00, but has lasted 15 years. As for the polish itself, Meltonian, an SC Johnson company, makes a fine cream polish that sells for about $3.50, while Kiwi is my go to choice for wax, about $5.00.

Sure, there are fancier products, but as I said before, your money is better spent on the shoes than the polish. I've been polishing shoes my whole life with the products I mentioned, and I find the results to be great, so long as you know how to shine the shoes. For more on that, the internet has no end of instructional videos. I reiterate: this stuff is widely available in nearly every pharmacy, hotel, airport, corner store, supermarket and cobbler shop in the country. If rich men feel the need to further aggrandize themselves by spending more on shoe polish than most of us do on food, so be it. It's gratifying to know that they are just as gullible, and often more so, than us regular folk.

Hope that helps.

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.