Breathnaigh

The next movement.

2010-07-15T08:24:00.002-04:00

Breathnaigh (THE BLOG) has moved. To Typepad. Please click through and check it out--I think it's looking good.

I'll be working on getting the archives moved over there--blogger is not really amenable to exporting their blogs. But recent posts are up and all new posts will be o'er there.

http://breathnaigh.typepad.com/

Backpack. Er.

2010-07-12T19:29:00.000-04:00

I spent a week at the Jersey shore accumulating freckles and sipping Salty Dogs, only to walk right back into the island prison sweatbox that is Washington in July. A suitable cure has been a breeze through back issues of Backpacker magazine on Google Books. Choice shots below--I've cherrypicked some excellent ads from Woolrich, Sierra Designs, and Class 5, too, and will post 'em up later this week.

Backpacker cover, 1977

"How to get your kids to hike with you" was the Runner's World "Shoe guide" article of Backpacker in the 1970s. Nearly every issue had advice on how to make potentially strenuous, certainly boring outdoor fun palatable for the "are we there yet" set. Also from 1977.

Another hiking with your family piece accompanied by some purty shots of Snowdonia. From 1973. In most of the early issues, it looks like the 70s hasn't really caught on with the mountain crowd.

Piece on bringing your dogs on the trail. Maybe my favorite shot.

Appalachian trail? 1973.

From a piece on Grandma Gatewood, Appalachian trail hiker (first through hike at age 67) and one of the "tribe of elders" according to the piece.

I feel about 10 degrees cooler.

Blue stuff, and stuff that goes with blue stuff.

2010-06-29T10:00:00.003-04:00

Tres Bien Shop has given e-mail notice that their sale on spring/summer merch will start this week--Friday, July 2, 8 a.m. EDT, to be exact. Had my eye on a few things that may or may not exist in my size by the time the sale starts, but I'll be checking in Friday morning for a shot at them. Nearly all of them
happen to be variously smurftoned. Good time for a poor rendering of them via polyvore.

S.N.S. Herning Stark cardigan in blue.
Bleu de Paname striped oxford in... blue.
Mark McNairy Red Brick Soul penny loafers. Not blue.
Rogues Gallery washed cotton cable knit sweater. Blue.
Our Legacy Authentic blue jeans.

Pride.

2010-06-27T19:54:00.000-04:00

Spent Saturday afternoon in Fairmount Park, listening to mid-90s hip hop, bocce-ing, and dodging poison ivy. Also noted with some concern that my wiffle ball skills are on the decline. Will have to get to the wiffle batting cages.

On the long and frustrating road back down to Maryland, I spent an unreasonable amount of time waiting in line on a highway in order to pay Delaware a few bucks for the pleasure of using that highway. I'm not given to wanton profanity, but fuck you Delaware. And I can look forward to that crap again next weekend. Only Delaware can make me look forward to driving in New Jersey.

To cheer myself up I stopped off in Towson at Ocean Pride (quality suicide food logo there) and picked up some pals.

I originally thought this pic would be appetizing, but it may be a little too macro.

Some Philadelphian cargo made its way down as well.

The Pharcyde -- Passin' Me By

Not-so-vintage t-shirt shopping.

2010-06-24T12:00:00.002-04:00

With it being hot and sweaty and summer-y out a boy's thoughts turn naturally to skateboarding. The better angels of my nature have stopped me from purchasing a new skateboard in the last couple of years although I've been jonesing for a new deck nearly as bad as when I used to dog-ear California Cheap Skates catalog pages and TWS issues in my salad days. The only thing more absurd than a grown-ass man on a skateboard is a grown-ass man on a razor scooter. Doesn't mean I can't revel in the accoutrements of skating, which culturally left me behind around 1995, when I realized that although skateboarding was arguably cooler than baseball, they were both at their cores athletic activities, and athletic activities were not going to be where I made my mark.

Some shirts that would look great with a pair of redsand shorts.

Stussy

Slapshot

Uniform Choice--for those keeping the edge

~~Redsand~~ Rusty (thanks KC)

And a few late entries from McNairy Brothers, Mark McNairy's old line (which I never saw in stores)

Is it an opulin, Iceland?

2010-06-23T12:00:00.001-04:00

This Toots and the Maytals song is the bees knees, and if you feel differently I will fight you. I tried to find the lyrics online, Toots being the James Brown of reggae, and I don't think anyone's getting it right. Admit I'm not a patois expert, but no way is Toots bringing up Iceland in a song that seems to be about everyone dropping pretenses and relaxing on a happy day.

The championships.

2010-06-21T21:45:00.000-04:00

In a sports-obsessed culture, recurring events take on a weird synechdoche (or is it metonymy? this isn't worth looking up)--they are a calendar unto themselves . If the World Series is on, it's getting a little cold for baseball. March is, well. Derby day marks the start of spring as much as Easter or March 21 do. And I'm bound to watch some of Wimbledon on a sunglared TV set at the shore around the 4th of July.

I was originally putting together a post on the McEnroe/Borg years of Wimbledon, but hell if The Selvedge Yard didn't do a way awesomer job than I could last year. So I'll console myself with some archival photos inhabited by the odd mix of tradition and innovation, exertion and reserve of Wimbledon.

First--a video from British Pathe: Wimbledon 1960-1961 in color. Little too much on how Slazeneger makes a tennis ball, but the beginning and end make up for it. Enjoy the casual sexism from the narrator.

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And some stills...

American Big Bill Tilden IN ACTION

American Don Budge ALSO IN ACTION

Kiwi A.F. Wilding post-action

I'm lazy and I forgot who this was, but doesn't she look nice? Straight off the pages of Mister Mort.

A negative review of the Sleigh Bells album cobbled together from three overwhelmingly positive reviews of the Sleigh Bells album.

2010-06-14T06:47:00.000-04:00

Bands like this only will themselves into existence out of extreme restlessness. Sometimes boredom. Krauss and Miller have been making music for a while--he in the hardcore band Poison the Well, she in some kind of manufactured teen-pop group that never got off the ground--it's easy to see them as a connected band with the right gimmick at the right time. The blown-out sonics trade on some of the last three decades of pop music’s most noxious textures. The volume and power of late 90s rap metal. Tasteless CD-era overcompression. The trick could wear thin quickly, and the duo have managed to extend their uncomplicated formula across 11 tracks. It's hard to say what the songs are about, since so many words are so difficult to make out. They're more than likely to be publicly over by their second album. All of which, for me, anyway, makes the hype melt away.

Sleigh Bells -- Tell 'Em

All pulled from the following: Onion AV Club (A-), Pitchfork (8.7), and lostatsea (10/10).

Provenance.

2010-05-25T07:14:00.000-04:00

In September 1994, Martin Margiela was one of the first in fashion to go overt with the idea of literally reproducing old clothes. The designer had already manipulated flea-market finds in his early collections, but this collection was different. "Instead of imitating originals, I decided to make complete reproductions," Mr. Margiela told Ms. Suzy Menkes of the IHT at the time--before he became a recluse from press exposure. Each garment carried a label that described the original and called the present piece an "exact reproduction." . . . Margiela was lucid in his explanation. "Every designer looks to retro stuff," he told Ms. Menkes. "I think I always look forward. But it's a nicer feeling for myself to go forward by looking backward."

From Fantastic Man No. 11, Summer 2010

Most of Martin Margiela's lines look great. They're thoughtful, wearable, and exceedingly well-made. But most don't really work for me--too louche, too Euro, or too subtle. Not to mention ridiculously expensive for a salaryman like myself. But I'm always intrigued by the replica pieces (line 14 in Margiela's obscure system). I think I first heard of them in a GQ piece from a few years back on trench coats. There are a lot, obviously, and I still don't own one. But Margiela's exacting reproduction (not interpretation or attempt; he calls it a replica) looked better than most.

The Fantastic Man article quoted above dealt with new and next vintage--chronicling how almost all clothing lines look to vintage for inspiration now, and how the people operate who trawl estate sales for items and bet on inspiration potential. These dealers pick through the old stuff you don't want anymore so makers can create things you will want in the future. The article's even more deeply meta, because among its points is this: they're running out of old things. Or rather, everyone's done something with everything. WWII military, Vietnam-era military, German military, current milsurp. They've done tennis and golf wear from the 1920s to the 1990s. When every conceivable genre of vintage clothing has been mined to the core, what's next?

I was a little surprised to see the quote from Margiela, but I like it--it's still a nice feeling to go forward by looking backward.

Es muy bueno.

2010-05-23T12:04:00.000-04:00

B'lieve I've mentioned it before, but I've been working on some things for Très Bien Shop, a store based in Malmo, Sweden but with serious worldwide pull thanks to their buys, which range from Filson and Penfield to Maison Martin Margiela and Dries van Noten, and an excellent webshop at tresbienshop.net. Jakob at Très Bien is a sincere and smart fellow and asked me to write some Web content for them--so far, it's been mostly brand landing pages, but I recently talked with Mark McNairy, whose shoes Très Bien stocks, for them. The Mark McNairy interview is posted up the on their site.

We're hoping to put together some more interviews and other pieces for their editorial section--more designer Q+As and profiles of different lines. Thanks for checking it out, and let me say that the shop doesn't need my endorsement--they carry interesting stuff, and their prices are competitive even for U.S. shoppers. Remember that non-E.U. folks don't pay VAT (20%!) and Très Bien is offering free shipping (via FedEx) in May. Time to buy that Engineered Garments engineer jacket and Filson briefcase.

Field trip: Chicago IL

2010-05-20T20:41:00.000-04:00

Pack your bags; we're going to Milan.

2010-05-17T17:57:00.000-04:00

Rivendell Mountain Works Mariposa pack.

This one is based on a 1970s pack design, from a Pacific Northwest brand that's been brought back by a single backpacking enthusiast. Their flagship pack is the Jensen pack, a soft pack in a framepack size that changed the way people looked at soft packs back in the 70s. Of course that's far too large for a simple commuter bag. The Mariposa is amply sized for the daily carry at 2040 cu. in. I could fit gym gear, work stuff, book, and lunch in there. In fact, it's about 50 percent larger than what I currently use. The RMW Lupine is a little smaller and maybe a better fit for daily use. These aren't widely available, or even widely discussed outside of backpacking sites, so it's tough to really assess them. They seem quite functional, though, and the styling is pretty ideal--and the Tolkien reference doesn't hurt. At under $100, the price is also pretty good for a made-in-USA bag, although you don't get the more lux materials and styling of something like Altadena Works. Still trying to decide if the vague, unintentionally vintage Web order form page is charming (like Birdwell's ) or just a barrier.

Great River Canoe Pack wool 50s backpack.

I'm giving this one a shot, despite the crazy embroidery (not all Great River packs feature lettering). I'll just be repping New England for awhile. The Great River bag is made of Pendleton wool and all compartments are closed with a zipper and lined in cotton. The leather and hardware look great. A canvas version is still in stock at Garbstore, listed, suspiciously, under Yuki Matsuda's brand Meg Company, but as a heads up there's a couple Great River bags on eBay cheap. Certainly not as light and a little flashier than the RMW pack listed above or the J. Crew Kelty I have my eye on.

Beatific

2010-05-07T06:52:00.000-04:00

Will have to check out the current National Gallery exhibit of Allen Ginsberg's photos. Although Ginsberg was a pretty good photographer, what stands out in this collection (and its reason for being) is less the technique than the subjects. In the 50s Ginsberg was documenting the Beat scene before it was even eally a scene. Later he shot more formal portraits of the aging Beat Generation. The photos are candid shots for the most part and I wonder if last year's Levis ad campaign (featuring Beat forebear Walt Whitman) borrowed some from the spirit of these pics.

Ginsberg in the L.E.S., NY, 1953. A number of these photos, obviously, he didn't take himself.

Kerouac, Neal Cassady, and Burroughs after the jump.

Ginsberg in NY harbor, 1947, "Smoking what?"

Kerouac on E. 7th St., NY, 1953. "Making a Dostoyevsky mad face."

Beats, San Francisco, 1956. I think Ginsberg is checking out Neal Cassady.

W.S. Burroughs, 1991.

Field trip: NY NY

2010-05-03T22:02:00.000-04:00

I spent last weekend on a businessy pleasure trip to the city.

The good:

- Cask ales at The Breslin in the Ace Hotel.

- Finding R.P. Miller knits at Opening Ceremony store in that same Ace Hotel.

- Solid, friendly service at the Ace.

- Marbled brisket at Blue Smoke.

- In-your-face performance art freaking out the squares at Moma (NSFW, but it's art!).

- Cartier-Bresson retrospective at that selfsame Moma.

- Gin and tonic at Bemelman's.

- Talking clothes with Mark McNairy.

- The weather--warm, beautiful, tons of people out.

The less gooder:

- Missing a handful of desirable exhibits, rock shows, and comedy by a day or two.

- Paralysis by diversity of food choices.

- Not finding the only item I was really shopping for: a goddamn bag.

- The rickety, crowded elevators at the Ace. What were they like before renovation??

- Feeling like J. Crew is always one. step. ahead.

- Feeling like 4th floor at Barney's Madison Ave looks a lot like a J. Crew. A veritable sea of oxford and madras.

- Boltbus passengers. Sometimes I think I should hop on a Chinatown bus and trade the giggly couples for a dude riding with chickens. Nah.

- The weather--warm, beautiful, tons of people out.

The frighteningly real thought for the weekend is that I'm exhausted by the vacation. Always loved seat-of-my-pants budget travel but I am become a sad old man, looking for cheap all-inclusive tropical resorts where I can eat cafeteria food and read mystery novels in the shade of a palm tree that's been replanted from its native soil onto a beach of sand brought there by dumptrucks just for me.

L.L. Bean Fall 1948.

2010-04-26T12:00:00.002-04:00

I've been meaning to get a post up on this since approximately spring 1949. I got this catalog over a year ago now, wanted to post it, lost it, and have had no access to a quality scanner. So this weekend I busted my bike and figured I'd waste some time taking photos of a catalog, with my phone camera. Not seasonally appropriate, I understand, but this Bean catalog still has some gems, some all the more interesting since the company raided its own archives to design the L.L. Bean Signature line this spring. Let's see if any of these cool weather pieces make it into next fall's Signature catalog. More images and midcentury Mainer folksiness after the jump.

L.L. Bean Fall 1948.

This vest has a lot in common with Post Overalls and Engineered Garments pieces from the last couple of years--most notably the round pocket seams. Would love to see Signature resurrect this one.

This Warden's jacket could be in almost any current collection--water resistant cotton poplin and plenty o pockets.

The catalog is short on marketing copy. Descriptions aren't short, but there's no talk of L.L. Bean's philosophy or mission or anything. However, little text boxes sprinkled throughout give stern advice and ordering instructions. Also, what he hell is balloon cloth?

The man himself. I own this book as well, but it's unfortunately short on illustrations.

Ye olde Bean boot gets the centerfold in Fall 1948.

Would love to have participated in the testing of 80 cans of bacon.

Good deal of solid footwear in this catalog. Also lots of references to the military--Army shoes, "before the war," etc.

The only color page--the back cover, is designated to showing off the crayola-bright strips on a Hudson's Bay blanket.

So the show starts at 9:30, or what?

2010-04-25T16:45:00.000-04:00

J. Freedom du Lac--enjoyably monikered music writer, chronicler of culture, Sacramento Bee alum, and current Washington Post quasi-metro scribe--had a great feature in the Post Mag last weekend on Washington D.C.'s own 9:30 Club. Over its 30 years, the 9:30 has risen to near legendary status in the mid-Atlantic, although it's hard for me to grasp its legacy outside of town. The club was one of the first non-mom's-basement venues in the country to allow all ages shows, a choice that opened up the DC rock scene, legitimized local punk rock, and helped launch DC hardcore, most famously via club regulars Bad Brains and Minor Threat.

Of course that was all well before my time. I didn't move to Maryland until the club, originally at 930 F st NW, moved to its current location near Howard U. I work near the old location now. Today 930 F is a pretty bland building facade, with neighbors that include a clothing store selling Peruvian knits, a chocolate-focused restaurant, and a fantastic cheesery--Cowgirl Creamery. Not sure what the old DC heads would think of a fantastic cheesery. The new club (new only relative to the old club) is a fantastic space. Acts that play ampitheaters and athletic facilities in other towns opt to do the 1200-capacity 9:30 here. The sound is top drawer and the balcony provides an enviable view of the stage. I grew up going to the Troc and TLA in Philly (both alright spots, to be sure), but the 9:30 defines a goddamn professional venue. It's a long way from its humble beginnings as a ratty nightclub, and some claim that efficiency and cleanliness have pared away some of its original rough charm. But it's always been a great place to see a show.

You won't get too much out of J. Freedom's piece if you're a nerd and you already own Our Band Could Be Your Life and Dance of Days and watched 930 F Street at its first public showing. But it's a good excuse for posting some solid images and vids. After the jump: Minor Threat, G.I., Minutemen, etc. etc.

Minor Threat live 1983

Government Issue live 1984

Fugazi live 1997--Bed for the scraping--sound is bad but one of my favorites

Minutemen 1984--Sound is great

Today you're much more likely to see Wilco, a band that can play much larger venues but often chooses a night or two at 9:30

Abstract J-Press-ionism.

2010-04-13T01:00:00.004-04:00

I thoroughly enjoy going to the J. Press shop on L Street. It's not just that I like slightly overbearing, chummy service from the career salesmen. I like the stubborn anachronicity of the store. It's a medium-sized shop selling almost all house-label stuff. There's four shops in the world. I'm not saying it's awesomely rare and exclusive (it's not), it's just weird that that business model is sustainable these days (maybe it's not). I also like that, although the merch is pretty seasonal, it doesn't change a whole lot year to year. So maybe they just put madras shirts out for spring 2010. But some of them have tags from spring 2008! They have sales, but never true clearance, and the stuff is so staid, they can just put out 3- and 4-year-old product and it's never out of place. I'm not an evangelist for "timeless" style, but that's still kind of rad. I stopped in Friday afternoon and was intrigued by a few things.

1. A good deal of waxed cotton. J. Press-label luggage/bags, Barbour coats. The oversize tote below was cool. Can't find it on their site.

2. Madras shorts. These aren't the rarity they were maybe 10 years ago, when J. Press was one of the only sources. Theirs are lined in white cotton. I have an old Brooks Brothers pair like that, and it always seemed odd. If they're for the hottest hottest heat, then why add more fabric? If it's to stop them from bleeding onto your skin, then it's been superfluous for a while, as most modern madras (including theirs) is colorfast. I dunno.

3. An unstructured linen jacket. This piece could have none more lack of structure. It's like a jacket-shaped shirt. Seems nice, but a little un-Press; more Nordstrom-y Tommy Bahamish. Still, you could argue there's a hint of Daiki Suzuki's unlined Bedford jacket to it.

4. Armor Lux breton shirts. Seriously. SAILOR SHIRTS ARE EVERYWHERE. None of the traditional makers are super hip, which seems to make them a more logical fit for J. Press than Selectism. St. James seems a little hipper than Armor Lux, but these are nice and legitly French as well. Boat necks don't suit me, so not for me. Also probably not for you, but give it a shot if you want. Side note, Armor Lux seems to make other pieces, like a fisherman's smock, that seem ripe for interpretation/coopting by the Albams of the world.

I picked up a new hat to embarrass my wife.

A new contender.

2010-04-12T07:22:00.002-04:00

Via Secret Forts, Kelty rucksack for J. Crew.

Wow, this is perfect. Big but not I'm-actually-going-backpacking-big, great shade of olive fabric, great touches like the contrast orange tape on the zippers. If only it were available now instead of next fall and wasn't sure to cost something silly at retail.

Water and a seat.

2010-04-03T16:19:00.001-04:00

Still looking for an ideal lounge chair. Didn't net that Bertoia bird chair, although I did pick up some Bertoia wire dining chairs for patio use (cheers craigslist and Mike in Silver Spring). One that keeps popping up is the Siesta chair--pretty sure I've seen of these things in Millennium, and I know I've seen a few others in stores and certainly on craigslist. Although not as iconic as the Knoll-type pieces that fill up DWR showrooms, the Siesta chair seems to have a pretty solid niche in modern furniture history. Designed by Ingmar Relling, it won the 1964 Norwegian Furniture Council award and became a fixture, selling, apparently, over 1 million chairs overall. The license to manufacture this design has shifted over the years (currently they're made by Rybo of Norway), so they can be identified by several makers, notably Westnofa. Not sure if the quality varies among makers.

A spare design, the Siesta chair is comfortable, although it sits a little more upright than what I'm looking for. It is scaled nicely for a smaller space. It may suffer a little in the cachet department because it shares some looks with the dorm-standard Ikea Poang chair--itself arguably a knockoff of the Saarinen grasshopper. I think you could conceivably even use a Poang cushion on your Siesta. Like many vintage chairs, the selling price may vary a lot depending on the condition, especially of the leather-wrapped pads and canvas sling. On the positive side, unlike many vintage chairs, almost all of these seem to be made of genuine leather rather than vinyl that makes Plycraft loungers and some others less appealing in vintage, un-reupholstered condition. I've seen good condition chairs with included ottomans go for over $500, and apartmenttherapy.com recently featured a craigslist posting for a slightly more worn-in piece for only $160. The pads on that one appear to have a lot of stuffing left. If you're looking for a cost-effective vintage piece, not an investment, you could probably do worse.

Welcome to your life.

2010-03-31T07:18:00.000-04:00

KC sent this to me and I couldn't not post it.

Ted Leo and the Pharmacists cover Tears for Fears' "Everybody Wants to Rule the World"

Ted Leo and the Pharmacists are playing the 9:30 Club next week--as of last Thursday there were 400 tickets or so left but they were selling. I thought about not going, since Mr. Leo comes through so often, but then I remembered that, live, HE ALWAYS COMES THROUGH, if you know what I mean.

To relate it to clothes, as I must with everything, Chris Wilson's MDC shirt is a classic and Tej appears to be showing off a St James shirt (or similar. Although he doesn't strike me as the $85 tshirt type.) And he may be joking, but also a pair of Shuron Ronsirs.

Blurry chossom festival.

2010-03-29T20:43:00.000-04:00

The cherry blossoms are out in D.C., which means, among other things, the weather's OK enough for me to walk to a bar in Logan Circle. Churchkey (1337 14th St NW, elite former site of Hamburger Mary's) has been open for awhile, and all reviews of it might as well close with "You know who would really dig this place? Pete." It's got a long and ever-changing beer list, a dark but inviting bar, gussied-up hamburgers, and helpful but unobsequious staff. On the page of my moleskine listing criteria for excellent neighborhood bar, these all appear. On the back of that page is a list of criteria that prevent bars from being good is "hell of far away from a metro stop," "crowded even on weeknights," and "pretentious (crowd)." Churchkey, I'd heard, was pushing it on all three. You can't entirely blame the bar for its patrons, of course. Hey, I like some Phish songs.

Photography lesson 1: Take photos with adequate light. Lesson 2: Sober.

So a dude and I walked in the other night after work. We sampled a couple cask ales--the Paradox Smokehead, a beer aged in scotch barrels that was like liquid peat smoke, and Allagash Black, which I've had before but which benefited from the cask ale treatment. The warmer temperature opened up the roast notes in the Belgian-style stout. Borderline fragrant. I also tried the brat burger--made from ground beef, pork, and veal; served with sauerkraut--which was delicious but will be a rare indulgence for me at $16. You can drink and eat there for less, though. Several menu items are under $10 and a handful of draft beers are $5 (the best bargain cask ale was from Oliver's in Baltimore and was $6, although sample pours can be had for less). Our server was informed, patient, and busy. Speakers played Pitchfork-friendly indie rock (I heard the Pains). We tried other beers, too; the menu is organized less by esoteric style than by taste--crisp, roast, hops. A pint of Victory Prima Pils reminded me that it's my favorite beers--drinkable in any season, never too heavy or too light.

As the time passed and the sun set, the light through the floor-to-ceiling front windows dimmed. The crowd got more crowded, and people hovered over our bar table as I signed the check. The positives definitely outweigh the negatives at Churchkey, at least in the early evening. Will return, but I may eat a handful of pretzels beforehand so I'm not tempted to order another $16 burger.

Revisioning.

2010-03-25T21:24:00.000-04:00

GQ has every cover they've had since 1957 (when they were still Apparel Arts) up on their site, and it's amazing. I know this is old news, and the images would be so much better in higher res, but I had a little time to browse and gee wow there's some great stuff in there--I only wish I could flip through some of these issues in their entirety. I especially enjoyed the stuff from the 1960s. We're in such a Mad Men-induced haze about how great the 60s were for men's clothing and culture in general that it's good to get a little perspective--even a leading publication dealing with men's clothing at the time wasn't all aboard the trim gray suit ensemble. Some choice shots after the jump.

Sportswear in May 1957. The tassle's a little much, but a trim dark sweater and gray trou work today.

So dogs haven't changed so much since spring 1958. Sharp double windowpane on the country suit.

I unironically love this sweater (October 1958). Maybe it's a little Hudson Bay influence.

March 1960--the closest the covers come to matching the Mad Men aesthetic. Two button sleeve is old school.

September 1961. Aside from maybe the tie, this is very current. Clean all around.

I hate to mention Mad Men again, but if mid-60s GQ is a harbinger of costuming/themes to come, next season is gonna suck. Winter 62-53

But Bob Hope is still pretty dashing in a gray suit in 65. Buttondown collar, nice. The shape of the lapel (rounded, heavy roll) is not too far off from what Monitaly is doing for next fall. The 60s didn't see a ton of celebrity-driven covers, and many of the celebs were icons past their primes (no offense to Mr. Hope). Other covers featured Cary Grant and Fred Astaire. An exception is...

GOULET, who appears to be midprime in February 1966.

Now, I like mod stuff--not just Paul Weller mod, but real 60s mod--but the covers are mostly downhill from this one in September 1966.

There's a lot of location-driven covers in this era. No one has been this excited about Atlanta since 1967.

Haha. Hahahahaha. Oh, man. Hahahaha.

Another theme was trippy camera effects. Also, PLAID.

Your icon for 1962: Don Draper. Your icon for 1969: Herb Alpert.

I should end it there, but I can't help but give just a taste of what shows up in the 70s (March 1970).

It was ... a weird time (April 1971).

Although I bet this guy had an awesome backpack in November 1976.

And finally:

Bahahahaha. Haha. HAHAHAHA. Ha.

It is hard for an empty bag to stand upright.

2010-03-24T19:51:00.000-04:00

Title quotes Benjamin Franklin; wise man, proud Philadelphian, manbag pioneer? The evidence on that last part is inconclusive. I need a new contrivance for carrying things. Books, gym clothes, lunch, small grocery run, six-pack of Bud tallboys, the occasional laptop or LP. I thought getting a new bag would be easy. My needs are not unique. I need a bag that's a comfortable carry, can fit the aforementioned stuff (not all at once), doesn't look stupid, is wearable on a bike, and doesn't cost more than, well, I don't know. I'm even flexible on the orientation--rucksack, messenger style, shoulder-slung briefcase--I can make a case for any of them. I flipped through Nylon Guys at Border's and they had an entire feature on backpacks, and I would use none of them. I almost said "wear them," there, which would be appropriate for most in the Nylon piece. I need a bag that sits midway between the utility of the fare at REI and the appearance of something RRL would make would be perfect. Warning, depending on your perspective I may come off here as a terrible cheapskate or a heedless spendthrift here. I took a vote and said maybe to the following:

1. Altadena Works Teardrop Pack

STATS: 18 x 13 x 7
PRICE: $225

PRO: Until recently, I was antibackpack. They ruin jacket shoulders, I thought; they make you look like a little kid, I thought. I've been using a borrowed old Northface pack for nearly a year now and those both hold true. But frankly I don't wear sportcoats all that often and the Altadena Works pack doesn't look middle school, just a little old school. The design is very clean for a functional pack--thoughtful but not too gimmicky. There's room in there for just about anything I'd carry. The raw materials are good quality--Horween leather, for example, and wool felted shoulder straps. Plus it's made in the USA.
CON: The big con, obviously, is that it's 225 goddamn dollars. I also question its rain resistance.

2. Archival Clothing Rucksack

STATS:Unknown, but looks plenty big
PRICE: Unknown, but I'd venture around $200
PRO: Plenty big, vintage inspired without being ridiculous (http://i291.photobucket.com/albums/ll284/shoreman1782/duluthcanoepackfull.png), made in USA, and after reading Archival Clothing for quite a while I have a lot of trust and respect for the people behind it. I trust them to build something well and not be cute about it. Waxed canvas is waterproof enough for me, and the flap over design seems ideal for it.
CON: Although the price isn't yet public, it won't be cheap. (I'm sure the AC folks aren't ripping people off.) Also, all these earthy canvas bags with leather closures and thin, unarticulated shoulder straps are a little, I dunno, square. German backpacker in the wrong sense of the term. Just sayin.

3. Yuketen Triangle Pack

STATS: 18.5 x 12 x 8.25
PRICE: $420
PRO: I really really like them. Saw the wool felt version at Capsule and the safety orange canvas version looks blazingly cool too. There's a lot of 70s mountaineering stuff being resurrected now, and Yuki is looking further back than that. It's just so PRETTY. Solid metal hardware, zippers that will eat your hand, more Horween leather trim. Made in USA. Again, a small company I respect.
CON: Outrageously expensive--not that there isn't some value there, but it's still a lot of dough. Not available from a U.S. retailer (that I can find). Almost completely impractical--not waterproof, one giant pocket, will likely be uncomfortable when heavily packed. Almost too interesting looking, and I would prefer not to draw attention in that way. Yeah, maybe just strike this one for me, although it's a work of art.

4. Porter x Monocle Baby Boston Bag

STATS: 16.5 x 7.5 x 15
PRICE: $375
PRO: Porter is a Japanese bag maker of some repute. Their stuff is supposed to be indestructible. Monocle magazine helped design this one for short-term travel, and it has some thoughtful touches that would be handy on a day-to-day basis. I also like the color and the fact that it's not a standard shape.
CON: Dimensions seem oddly small for its type, although it's a different shape than most others here. Although I enjoy reading Monocle and their store sells things that are only in impeccable taste, there's an air of smugness, in-crowdness, and materialistic aspiration associated with it that's hard to pin down and that puts me off. Also, it's nearly $400 for a nylon bag. Wait, I think that pins it down.

5. Filson 257 (large briefcase)

STATS: 16 x 12.5 x 6
PRICE: $250
PRO: The size is ideal. Big enough for a laptop and some accessories, but not too big to carry daily. It looks good but won't draw attention to itself. You can trust it to age gracefully and not embarrass you in a year or so. Still made in USA. I own other Filson products and have been happy with their quality control and Filson's customer service.
CON: If it weren't for the Monocle-branded bags, this would probably be the standard issue for the post-metrosexual Monocle man. Even in DC, which tends to be the last boarder on the trend wagon, I've seen a bunch. And although it's probably not a bad value, it's still more than I want to spend.

6. Reload Bags Frontier Knapsack

STATS: 15.5 x 14 x 4
PRICE: $45 (sale price)
PRO: Waxed canvas in good, basic earthtone colors. Made in USA (in Philly, no less) by a good, small company that makes functional bags for a demanding clientele. Price is right--wouldn't be bad at the original price but the sale price is really solid.
CONS: Shape is basic and classic to the point of school-bag-y. May actually be too small for some of the things I need to carry, and I can't check before I buy. A $45 bag isn't a good deal if it doesn't work and you have to buy another bag. I had this one in my cart and ready to go but just wasn't certain if the combo worked.

7. Albam Summit Pack

STATS: Unkown
PRICE: $200
PRO: Styling is nice and the price is competitive, if not exactly cheap. I really like what Albam's doing generally--their product is unique in a crowded market, their Web site is clean, their blog is informative. I have stuff from Albam and it's stuff I like. Bag is made in England.
CON: I doubt the water resistance. May not be very practical and I don't know the size for sure. It's still $200.

8. Acontinuouslean/Pendleton/Property of... guy bag

STATS: 20 X 6.25 X 13.4
PRICE: $195 (sale price)
PRO: I like all the entities involved here. The bag seems well-sized. The Property of... bags are not ubiquitous to begin with and even less so in this makeup. It has a handful of practical pockets on the inside so my lunch and book don't mingle.
CON: Wool isn't waterproof. I like a lot of Pendleton wools but the colors here are borderline ugly; they look like seconds. It's a little purse-y.

9. L.L. Bean Downeaster canvas duffle, medium

STATS: 12.5 x 23 x 12.5
PRICE: $64
PRO: Price and local availability help, considering I wouldn't be able to check out any of the other bags here before ponying up. Size is great, I can take this to work every day or on a weekend trip.
CON: Canvas is not waterproof. The duffle shape, even with the shoulder strap, is not especially workable on a bike.

10. South2West8 Canoe Sack, small

STATS: 16.5 x 12.5 x 9
PRICE: $150+fees
PRO: S2W8 splits the difference between an old canvas canoe bag and a 1970s backpack by making their canoe sack a manageable size and doing it in colorful nylon. It's big and eveything's easily accessible. The design incorporates elements from when comfort and convenience were at least as much of a concern as durability.
CONS: Another piece I'd love to have but that I can't justify. The original price isn't terrible, but when you add tax, shipping, potential proxy fees (it only retails in Japan), etc. it quickly balloons to over $200--again, a lot for a nylon pack.

----------------
Measurements are all approximate--some have been converted rudimentarily by me. Some costs have also been estimated and converted.

Field notes.

2010-03-15T22:33:00.000-04:00

Spent Sunday doing two things most people would probably prefer to avoid, generally--running 8 kilometers (in DC's St. Patrick's Day 8k) and then going to the mall. All in the name of research. The Tyson's Corner, Virginia L.L. Bean store is the first to carry Bean's new Signature line, which I had been keeping an eye on (thanks to Off the Cuff for the tip). The line, headed by Rogues Gallery creative director Alex Carleton, tries to take advantage of Bean's current, uh, currency and offer something to the nonretired set. I took the opportunity to test out my new phone photo app, Vignette, and I would say that the results of both the line and the app are mixed. More pics after the jump...

The stuff is styled very well on the website, and transposed to a friendly, well-lit, clean northern Virginia mall it loses a little edge. There are striped oxfords, canvas pants, cotton suit separates, washed canvas bags, and a range of shoes. The shoes are the clear standouts. Emulating, to a certain extent, Quoddy's offerings of boat moccasins in nontraditional finishes, they are priced competitively with Sperry but look great (one big advantage is that they have no overt branding--only the bags really have a conspicuous "L.L. Bean"). The boat shoes with a leather sole would work for work. The chukka mocc toes are a clear step above their Sperry competitor, and I don't think I've seen chukka-cut dirty bucks anywhere else. The lasts are very nice; not blobby or wide at all. And mostly under $100.

The Quoddy connection is a kind of headpsinning ourobros situation. Quoddy used to manufacture L.L. Bean's moccs. Bean outsourced their production abroad years ago. Quoddy kept making moccs in Maine on a small scale, but they got more expensive. Quoddy got noticed by hipsters (including Rogues Gallery, which offers Quoddy-made shoes), and started making boat shoes with weird leathers, like gray suede with red soles--J. Crew and Urban Outfitters recently started carrying their own Quoddy makeups. Presumably, Bean noticed that, and now is making their outsourced boat shoes (the Signature shoes are made in El Salvador) in blue suede among other leathers. Not to mention Quoddy used to make Yuketen moccs (and may still, that's a bit of a mystery). Bottom line is, if you want interesting boat shoes, Quoddy is the standard all others are measured by, and their shoes are still made in the USA for that extra dash of hipsteritage Americana, but the Bean Signature shoes are a much more affordable option, and only the most discerning would notice a difference from eye level. Oh the incestuous world of boat shoes in Maine.

Back to the clothes. Fits are slimmer than standard L.L. Bean, but in standard L.L. Bean, I can sometimes wear a shirt in size small, and I'm a 42R. I picked up a medium shirt in red/blue tattersall on cream, which I like a lot. Shirt details work for me--button down collar, pocket flap, etc., but the buttons are plastic and the hem a little long to wear untucked. Pretty standard for a $59 shirt. The twill blazer fit me better off the rack than J. Crew's 42R, which always ends up with extra fabric in the chest and upper back. Not bad at all.

The cotton sweaters weren't very exciting, but when are cotton sweaters exciting? I wish they had something more like the washed cotton cable knit sweater Rogues Gallery has this spring (from Tres Bien Shop).

The Signature line represents good value and acceptable, if uninspiring, heritage-y design. My initial impression is that there was a missed opportunity for Bean to put their purchasing and distribution power behind a smaller, more quality-oriented made-in-USA type collection. I understand that's not their intention. I assume their sights are set on J. Crew and Ralph Lauren Rugby. I still think J. Crew is doing this type of stuff better, but (1) even though Bean's back catalog is far deeper, J. Crew had a head start on the resurrected heritage trend, (2) Bean's customer service is unparallelled, which is attractive. J. Crew should watch its back. Also, the St. Patrick's Day 8k was a solid warmup for runnin season. See you on the Capital Crescent Trail.

My manbag quest is on hiatus right now. Thought I had the answer, but I didn't.

Madras cap from L.L. Bean's normal line.

Rites of spring.

2010-03-09T06:55:00.000-05:00

I've been in hardcore CONSUMER mode for a week now--can't explain it other than I'm better at thinking about buying stuff than just about anything else. There's good music out, stores are taking spring deliveries (clotheswise), it's light for nearly 12 hours a day. I grilled goddamn chicken yesterday. So, some stuff to buy.

1. Ted Leo and the Pharmacists--The Brutalist Bricks

I've been a Ted Leo fan since a friend brought back from student government camp Chisel's "8 a.m. All Day" copied onto a tape. Sorry Tej, you've always appealed to nerds, and people who like government like you. That must hurt. I didn't give TLRx's last album too much of a chance, but the new one had me at "Where Was My Brain," which is a punk rock face melter live. Maybe I'll get a full review down here at some point, but for now, I like the album and whatever Matador has done for production, because it sounds better than any Ted album before.

2. Our Legacy - 1940s Sundried Japan Checks at Très Bien Shop

Full disclosure: I'm helping out Tres Bien Shop with some Web copy. That's encouraged me to browse their webshop a lot, though, and dang if there aren't some enviable pieces for sale. Tres Bien is an excellent source for Our Legacy (who I talked to at capsule), especially for Americans, as we don't have a lot of stockists and they speak English and cheerily ship to the United States via Fedex. They also subtract EU VAT, so it's like you get 20% off everything. That's a sales pitch, but that doesn't make it untrue. This shirt, in a 'Murican-toned plaid, is pretty much perfect. Button down collar, double layer fabric (note the blue gingham on the inside)--makes me yearn for the weather to wear it.

3. Gibson Sonex 180

I literally dusted off my acoustic guitar a couple weeks ago and got it fixed. I'd been procrastinating because i expected it to be expensive, which it wasn't. Hey, free money. So now I have big big plans--I'm going to steal back the amp I myself stole in the 1990s (from that same friend who gave me the Chisel tape) and buy an electric guitar. I should be annoying my neighbors in a matter of months. You can read up on the Sonex, but essentially it was budget Gibson back in the early 80s, but now has a rep that's better than many new Gibson models. I have it on good authority that it's a poor man's Gibson SG. And they can apparently be had for $500 or less. Pshaw, I have that in change behind my dresser. That is not hyperbole.

Coming up, I consider buying a new manbag.

Dude writes longer footnotes than I write stories.

2010-03-08T07:22:00.000-05:00

As I see it, it probably really is good for the soul to be a tourist, even if it's only once in a while. Not good for the soul in a refreshing or enlivening way, though, but rather in a grim, steely-eyed, let's-look-honestly-at-the-facts-and-find-some-way-to-deal-with-them way. My personal experience has not been that traveling around the country is broadening or relaxing, or that radical changes in place and context have a salutary effect, but rather that intranational tourusm is radically constricting, and humbling in the hardest way -- hostile to my fantasy of being a true individual, of living somehow outside and above it all. (Coming up is the part that my companions find especially unhappy and repellent, a sure way to spoil the fun of vacation travel:) To be a mass tourist, for me, is to become a pure late-date American: alien, ignorant, greedy for something you cannot ever have, disappointed in a way you can never admit. It is to spoil, by way of sheer ontology, the very unspoiledness you are there to experience. It is to impose yourself on places that in all non-economic ways would be better, realer, without you. It is, in lines and gridlock and transaction after transaction, to confront a dimension of yourself that is as inescapable as it is painful: As a tourst, you become econimcally significant but existentially loathsome, an insect on a dead thing."

--David Foster Wallace in Consider the Lobster. (They should really close the comments on that article.)

Can't wait to go to Chicago and NY this spring!! :) :)

Nice jeans.

2010-03-02T07:12:00.000-05:00

New Trier High School, Winnetka, Illinois, 1950. Photo by Alfred Eisenstadt, from the LIFE archives.

Personal post alert.

2010-03-01T19:12:00.000-05:00

I went to a funeral last week. My dad's mom; my last surviving grandparent. Despite the fact that we weren't what I'd call close--I'm 1 of 27 grandchildren and it's tough to be granny to people you see once a year and generally in the company of 26 similar people--I had a rough time of it at the service. The priest sang the second verse of Danny Boy--I can't be expected to handle that. Plus I was sad for my dad.

Even with more cousins and aunts and uncles in one place than at any time in the last 10 years, the days had a deflated feeling, like it was a sad finale for the family. As the scheduled events came and went, we all met, dispersed; met, dispersed. We didn't spend late nights at the hotel bar like we have at weddings, catching each other up on jobs, kids, pets. Some of us had to remind each other who we were--"I'm Laura; THAT'S Sarah." We talked about those who couldn't make it--a storm, swirling like a February hurricane with its eye over New York, had complicated travel. We talked about grandma some, but not as much as I expected. I did a lot of standing around and thanking my wife for coming with me. She was meeting a lot of people for the first time. I learned a few things about my dad. We all talked a lot about weather, which is a primary medium for communication in my family. We let each other know how depressed we are by talking about the weather. We brag about our kids by talking about the weather. We express our disappointment in each other by talking about the weather. You'd think there'd be a meteorologist in the family somewhere.

We made fun of our fathers for boring us. We made fun of our mothers for not making fun of our fathers enough. My cousin fiddled with a pennywhistle. My uncle grabbed it, played a few notes, and we broke into one verse and chorus of Wild Rover--then laughed and clapped, then looked down at our plates. We did a lot of looking at each other and smiling meek, toothless smiles. Seeing relatives en masse is like seeing variations on yourself through a glass, darkly--what if I had grown up in South Carolina? What if I had brown eyes and played football? What if I had gotten into a better school? What if I dropped out?

After the funeral, we caravanned the short distance to the cemetery. I served as a pallbearer (a job that both scared the hell out of me and made me feel very important). Most of us showed up for a luncheon afterward. Fewer made it to my uncle's home, snug between two fingers of a mountainside splayed into a valley, for more food. As the evening passed, people hugged goodbye and drifted off in the snowdark night. Driving back to the hotel, we saw a soft glow in the crooks where the hills descended toward one another--nightskiing at resorts miles away, light refracted by low clouds and flurries. Early in the morning, my wife and I left the hotel under cover of darkness. She had a flight to catch 6 hours away, over the mountains and south. I had said goodbye to most people the night before, but not everyone. Heres hoping that next time I see everyone, everyone's there.

R.E.M. -- Pop Song 89 (censored video)

R.E.M. - New Music - More Music Videos

High back chairs.

2010-02-19T16:01:00.000-05:00

Been on the lookout now for a new chair to replace the contemporary blue leather recliner I've been abusing since college. Recently an apparently vital bolt has taken to falling out and dumping me on the floor--in the middle of Parks and Rec and a well-earned beer. The first midcentury modern piece that really did it for me was Eero Saarinen's womb chair, which is essentially a really comfortable armchair with most of the chair removed. Unfortunately, new womb chairs are in the same price range as new transmissions, and the likelihood of me needing the latter before the former is pretty high. A runner up is a well-upholstered diamond chair, another Knoll classic, deisgned by Harry Bertoia and slightly less ubiquitous in apartmenttherapy.com and Dwell spreads than Eames loungers (which ain't cheap, neither). More interesting is Bertoia's bird chair, which looks like a diamond chair with a mohawk. The advantage of buying a vintage diamond or bird chair vs. a womb chair is that the covers can be replaced for a few hundred dollars. A full reupholstery job on a used womb chair may be $1k or more. Keep in mind that when these things were first popular, everyone smoked.

Galaxie Modern in Lynchburg, Va. currently has in stock a bird chair with original upholstery, apparently in good shape, for $1200. That's less than half the price of a new chair and one-third the cost of a womb chair. I know, I know. I probably won't buy it.

Really wanted to find a video from High Back Chairs, a band that's probably accurately rated (as pretty good), but's notable for Jeff Nelson and Jim Spellman's participation. Couldn't though.

See America first.

2010-02-16T08:27:00.000-05:00

PBS has been re-broadcasting the series National Parks: America's Best Idea, and the second time around--alright, I didn't watch every minute the first time--I've really been able to focus on the visuals, which are crazy awesome, rather than the history, which is interesting, but. The film and still photos of park landscapes are, of course, great, but I've really been enjoying the portraits and candids of folks in early 20th century outdoor gear. One sequence, in the third episode, covers the Grand Canyon (never been, adequately shamed) and the publicity gained through the photographs taken by Ellsworth and Emery Kolb, who ran a business taking theme-park style pics of people descending into the canyon to sell to them when they were on their way back out. They also trekked up and down the Colorado, shooting technically amazing pitcures of the canyon itself, and sold prints. Here's some shots I scrounged up from the Cline Library at Northern Arizona University of the Kolbs in their element.

Grand Canyon, circa 1915, or Brooklyn, circa 2009?

Venturing outside hatless!

Kolb party

Portaging camp gear

PBS was loving this series of images, in which one brother lowers another to get just the right shot.

Inscription: "Built in one day and carried from Kolb Studio to river by Emery Kolb and John Ivens in three hours on trip to North Rim via Shiva Temple. Oct. 1916."

Ellsworth Kolb in Mexico. What's on his head?

Ralph Henry Cameron, also featured in the episode. Nice jacket.

I tried so hard.

2010-02-11T17:43:00.003-05:00

This video has made the rounds of pretty much any music-related blog out there, but if posted once before, it bears repeating. In Ear Park was, overall, disappointing to me, but only because of the high expectations set by No One Does It Like You.

Department of Eagles -- No One Does It Like You

Video directed by Patrick Daughters and Marcel Dzama.

Snowbatical.

2010-02-10T16:32:00.003-05:00

Four or five days without electricity is a kick-in-the-head reminder of the absurd luxury of everyday life.

I know snow photos in the DC area are a dime a dozen right now, and cell phone snow photos even less special, but here's my house. Note--porch light is nearly imperceptibly on. HELL YES.

Legacy look.

2010-02-10T15:57:00.003-05:00

I talked with Richardos Rosen, who is 33.3% of Swedish clothing line Our Legacy, at the Capsule show in NY. He talked about looking back for inspiration for Our Legacy's design (this should come as no surprise, considering the line's name and the fact that 90% of new men's brands are citing heritage influences). Afterward I read a few interviews with the Our Legacy guys and noted a few references to "50s expressionist artists and authors." I wish I'd known that beforehand, cuz I'm not sure who that refers to and I'd love to have asked. A good enough guess is the Abstract Expressionists, who without a doubt had some style. Unfortunately (or fortunately), you can't buy the "I'm better than you; yet still 62% nuts" stare that de Kooning and Robert Motherwell and Pollock have in this portrait.

Photo from the Life archive at Google.

Great that they all dressed so similarly and of the time, considering the breadth and intensity of what they produced while at work.

Here’s to another goddamn new year.

2010-02-05T18:18:00.003-05:00

In high school I got used to snow-heavy winters. I was only as far north as Pennsylvania, but we spent a couple of consecutive years buffeted by storm after storm. Snow, ice on snow, then more snow, then more ice--the yard was like a giant layer cake. Note sure if I remember right, but I'm sure we had less than a full week of school one January. They threatened to extend the school year, but never did. I blame the fact that I'm awful at algebra on that lost month. After those storms you could go out and walk, crunching, across the crust to look at the incredibly uniform jacket of ice around each tree's twig fingers. I'd slip in the attempt to climb over the split rail fence, and have parent-forbidden, brief, and painful snowball fights. This year the mid-Atlantic region seems to be the victim of a similar storm cycle, although so far it's just been snow, rather than the ice storms we had in PA. Maybe I'll just pop open a bottle of bubbly while 2 feet of snow makes me vaguely claustrophobic.

There's this thing--called youtube?

2010-02-03T00:01:00.001-05:00

A subgenre of youtube videos I've only recently discovered for myself is pretty simple. People post videos of records playing. That's it. The selected records lean heavily to rare vinyl that you're not going to hear in person, ever--even if you know a collector with an original "Wreck of the Old 97" 78, chances are they're not going to indulge you by actually playing it. These clips work for those more interested in approximating the experience of hearing a crackly recording of Buddy Holly's first single (considered a disappointment upon its release) than the experience of being in the stands at a Phillies/Dodgers game where this dude totally nails this other dude with a beer. Course I'm down for both.

There are a lot of clips that essentially just play a song, accompanied by the album cover or a montage of artist images (not to mention user-generated music videos, which I find inordinately creepy), but the spinning record clips have appeal in their simplicity and honesty. Plus they remind me of sitting at home and putting on punk rock 7 inches and just listening to them over and over.

Buddy Holly--Blue Days, Black Nights

Also, RIP Buddy Holly and all that.

Everyone I know has a big "but."

2010-02-02T19:18:00.001-05:00

Also on board with the red chamois--Andy from Pee Wee's Big Adventure.

Sham wow.

2010-01-30T13:03:00.004-05:00

American chamois shirts must confuse the hell out of Europeans—a French dude (I’m thinking mustachioed and chapeau’d, De Gaulle style) shaking his head in disbelief—“Zut alors! This is not shamwa!” True, a chamois is a European mountain goat and chamois leather is light and, oddly enough, gentle and water absorbent—hence its use to dry car finishes.

Chamois, to most Americans, means a thick, strong, flannel-esque cotton weave. When LL Bean ruled the yuppie land with a hunter-green fist, one of their most popular products was the chamois shirt. My dad had a handful of solid cotton flannel shirts in the standard greens and a tan/gold color he just called “shammy”—that’s the closest in color to natural chamois leather. I started looking for a new equivalent last spring, as today’s Bean shirts are cut very large and are made abroad. A chamois shirt should not fit slim, but jeez the new shirts are big. Cabela’s and other usual outdoor suspects also sell oversize versions as hunting shirts—like other “heritage” natural fabrics, cotton chamois is extraordinarily quiet in the field. Unfortunately my hiking boots squeak like seals. Fortunately I stalk mostly microbrews and indie bands.

I settled on a Cruzer flannel from Post Overalls. Post Overalls (or Post O’alls) has been making new clothes with old DNA since 1993. Not surprisingly, the designer is Japanese—Takeshi Ohfuchi. Takeshi has been collecting vintage garments since the 1980s. It’s tempting to draw some parallels between Post O’alls and Engineered Garments—but that’s for another day. Check out Takeshi's blog. The Post O’alls Cruzer flannel shirt in red (hell yes red) cotton.

A chamois spotted at the Rose Bowl flea market by Mister Mort. Not my ideal ensemble, but...

Get ready for fall.

2010-01-29T20:16:00.002-05:00

Couple weeks back I had the opportunity to hit up (capsule) in NY with the guys from Styleforum. In fact, now I am one of the guys from Styleforum. The writeups I put together for some of the men's lines for fall/winter 2010 will be live soon, including Billy Reid, Yuketen, Quoddy, Post Overalls, and Mark McNairy New Amsterdam. Here I'm just putting some photos I particularly liked. Thanks Albert for most of the photos, and Dan for a couple.

Takeshi from Post Overalls explaining their "lookback" lookbook to me.

Blue steel modeling a scarf from S.N.S. Herning.

Olive suede boots from Mr. McNairy.

Yuki Matsuda of Yuketen and Monitaly trying hard not to tell me I'm stupid.

Quoddy boots.

Mino from Monitaly/Yuketen at (capsule).

Glamorous after-party at the Pegu Club.

The week between.

2009-12-31T08:19:00.002-05:00

When Christmas and New Year’s Day fall on or very near the weekends, as they do this year, they cleanly sandwich a lame duck week. The Metro is three quarters empty. The office is quiet, and everyone there mostly talks of being at work. The tools of timewasting—TV, blogs, twitter, etc.—go unused. Everyone’s doing tired best-ofs or reruns or’s just mailing it in.

The Christmas tree is this week another task you’re putting off. Next Monday it will be 2010’s first official sign that you’re still a hopeless, backsliding procrastinator. The egg nog’s sell-by date hasn’t passed but you still smell it to see if it’s gone bad (“What’s it supposed to smell like?”) and toss the carton in the trash. Checking your bank balance, you realize you’re still paying for a gym membership you haven’t used since July, but you don’t cancel it because, hey, new year’s resolution. Last week you had a fresh bag of flour, a dozen eggs, and a new cookbook; now you feel like eating frozen pizza and ice cream every night.

This week gives you just enough time to dwell on everything 2009 a little too long. I wasn’t much looking forward to tomorrow until today.

Morrissey - Tomorrow

Mozhead revisited.

2009-12-28T20:29:00.000-05:00

I have owned up to my terribly awful DVD collection before. I have two copies of “Love Actually,” a film I’ve heard called “Jerks get what they want for Christmas.” I've got Starsky and Hutch, the remake, but I swear I've never watched it. I also own several concert DVDs, which are great for watching once.

While snowed in this weekend I watched almost the entirety of “Who Put the M in Manchester?”—which documents one show (in Manchester, obv) on Morrissey’s 2004 tour in support of “You Are the Quarry.”

“Who Put the M in Manchester” is best seen as documenting Morrissey’s return. Not that he ever went away, but it’s fun to see the start of his 2000s reinvention as something he always seemed to want to be—a bandleader, a showman, a reincarnation of fat Elvis. Whether or not the bank of lights flashing MORRISSEY upstage are intentionally or unintentionally humorous, it would neither surprise nor disappoint me to see Morrissey move to Vegas and start a nightly revue.

YAtQ was a comeback album for Morrissey, who flirted with irrelevance in the late 90s. It did well and although its place in the Smiths/Morrissey canon is still open for debate, most of the songs hold up. That’s great for “Who Put the M” because it leans hard on that album. It opens with “First of the Gang to Die,” maybe YAtQ’s finest moment, with its bluntly brutal imagery and yodeling outro—a moment that signals that Moz isn’t going to hit the high notes in concert. “Hairdresser on Fire” lets the audience know that the band is willing to dip into its back catalog, although I’m sure we’d all rather hear the A side of that record. “Irish Blood, English Heart” may actually be better live than on the album—it ends with a guitar solo that’s anticlimactic on record but in concert seems only to be an opportunity for Morrissey to recover from probably his most passionately political verse ever.

The DVD gets a little doldrums-y from there until the end of the show, when Morrissey breaks out the Smiths hits. At some shows at the time he was doing “Bigmouth,” “How Soon Is Now?” and others, but here you just get “Shoplifters” and “There Is a Light That Never Goes Out.” Maybe I'll watch it one more time.

Holiday (party) in Cambodia.

2009-12-22T20:34:00.003-05:00

I watch an amount of HGTV that embarrasses me, as a guy who still listens to the Dead Kennedys, and one thing that really makes my aura frown is the term “entertaining.”

“Oh, this space would be wonderful for entertaining.” “I dunno, hon, this living room is small, and you know how we like to entertain.” “We can’t wait to move in, decorate, and entertain!”

WTF are you people doing when you have friends over, vaudeville? I understand there’s a need for shorthand, but are people afraid to say “have people over for dinner” or, gasp, “have a party”? At work a colleague objected to the term “party” as applied to a gathering to say farewell to a retiree. Ugh. Here I thought you could have a party without a couple of kegs and a kilo of the finest Columbian. Also, you don’t need a foyer with 30-foot ceilings and a catering-capable kitchen to have a cocktail party.

The wife and I had friends over for drinks a couple weekends ago—perhaps one could have called it a holiday party. I learned most of what I know about planning a party from my parents, who are esteemed hosts. A few rules were implicit:

1. With food, just don’t run out. I know you’ve been meaning to try that great Adria recipe for chilled jamon “sandwiches” with chocolate “mustard,” but now is not the time. Also, how many oysters can you really shuck before your hands and forearms look like they belong in a butcher’s window? Don’t be too ambitious; Trader Joe’s freezer aisle is to you like manna from heaven.

2. Don’t ask guests to bring specific things. Asking a beer drinker to bring vodka is just shitty. And he’ll probably buy suitably shitty vodka. Cover the basics yourself and welcome guests to bring something they like to eat or drink.

3. The host wears a tie. My dad feels the same about overdressing as he does about $40 haircuts, but he still makes an effort when he’s in charge.

4. Better to chat than to fuss. I have a hard time with this one myself—I’m always messing with the iPod or trying to bake another round of cocktail weiners. My mom sets up for a party and then essentially forgets she’s responsible for it. Someone spilled the cocktail shaker? Hand them a roll of paper towels and get back to your conversation.

Recipe for hate.

2009-12-22T20:22:00.002-05:00

Nice Adam Gopnik piece in the New Yorker a few weeks back on the confounding popularity of cookbooks. It’s a little scattered, but Gopnik is an enjoyable read and has some Gladwell-ian flashes of insight. The central conceit is a person “reading” a cookbook and folding corners for recipes to make for his family, versus reality--that the leap from cookbook page to meal is giant.

“We say “What’s the recipe?” when we mean “How do you do it?” And though we want the answer to be “Like this!” the honest answer is “Be me!” “What’s the recipe?” you ask the weary pro chef, and he gives you a weary-pro-chef look, since the recipe is the totality of the activity, the real work. The recipe is to spend your life cooking.”

Gopnik doesn’t seem to dislike cookbooks so much as kind of shake his head at them in jaded amusement. He classifies them (prescriptive, descriptive, like grammar), pokes fun at newer versions, which can be shockingly confessional in their effort to differentiate themselves, and tries to analyze their continuing appeal. As an aside, he seems to be saying it’s better to learn to cook at someone’s side, by doing, and also to add more salt, more sugar, and maybe some more cream.

I still want Thomas Keller’s Ad Hoc at Home for Christmas.

SS Tweedcontrol

2009-11-18T06:41:00.002-05:00

On Sunday morning I rode my bike (trusty; also, rusty) down to the Silver Spring metro (got called an asshole by a blind lady, which was both baffling and depressing, but that’s a story for another time) took the elevator there for the first time, and wheeled onto the platform only to see another dude in a tweed cap and tie. I nodded, he nodded. What we left unsaid: tweed ride.

Yes, the DC tweed ride. 300+ people in various states of tweed, released in small packs over the course of a blazing November morning to make DC streets a little scratchier. I saw dashed-off thrift store outfits; I saw perfectly tailored tweed suits; I saw yards and yards of tweed; I saw a good amount of general old-timey dress that wasn’t really tweed at all. There was a lot of imbalance in the amount of work someone spent on their bike and the amount spent on their tweeds. Some really incredible bikes; fewer really memorable tweed ensembles.

Photo: randomduck.

I’m a dabbler in both tweed and bikes so I wore a tweed cap and jacket with a wool tie and jeans. I think I looked sufficiently professorial without looking overly affected (a sliding scale in this crowd). I rode my 1980s Fuji road bike, which has been tuned up but otherwise not updated or fixed up by me—both a point of pride and a little shameful, as many of the other riders seemed to have built or rebuilt their vintage bikes into clean-riding urban machines of hipness.

Events like this veer dangerously toward self-parody—the media coverage seems to have both overstated the importance of the trend and smirked at it. The smirk was probably more justified than the pop culture psychoanalysis. Judging by the mix of people and the overwhelming smiliness of the whole thing, I don’t think many were taking themselves too seriously.

The ride itself was fantastic. I rarely get over to Capitol Hill and the neighborhoods were stunning and sun-dappled. Eastern Market was bustling. The capitol and federal buildings downtown gleamed. We tried a victory lap around Dupont, but the traffic was a little anticlimactic.

After sampling the punch at Marvin (for charity, of course), I red lined it back to Silver Spring and put the bike back in the shed, where it will probably spend most of the next 6 months, as it’s too dark to ride when I get home daily and weekends are full of bike ride (and hike, and reading, and general sit-down) pre-empting obligations. Dandies and Quaintrelles billed this as the semi-annual tweed ride, so sometime in April, about when I’m retiring the tweed to the back of the closet, it will be time for another ride to celebrate woolens, bikes, and DC.

Thanks to the organizers and I’ll be sure not to miss another DC tweed ride.

I may have been the only person there not taking pictures, which is just as well as I'm a terrible photographer. Great photos from the Washingtonian, as well as various photogs on flickr. You can spot me here and in a couple of photos by randomduck, who apparently led our peloton.

Never enough neck.

2009-11-16T20:14:00.002-05:00

I’m plumbing the shallow depths of instant nostalgia here, but it makes me a little happy to see J. Crew offering a rollneck sweater again. As J. Crew has shifted its identity from its 1990s, collegiate, offer-everything-in-oatmeal catalogue to today, when many consider it a preppy trendsetter (or at least a choice of tastemakers), it dropped some of its old standbys--the rollneck sweater is one, a heavy cotton sweater would be another (everything seems to incorporate cashmere in current catalogs... trying too hard, J.).

The rollneck reminds me of high school, of sweaters that smelled like smoke so you had to leave them in the car so as not to wise up the parents, of sweaters not cleaned for semesters on end, of lending your sweater to your girlfriend at the movies and her saying it's gross but wearing it anyway. Wait, is the baggy rollneck sweater emo?

The new version is less baggy, which is at least kind of a shame. But it looks pretty great nonetheless.

J. Crew rollneck sweater in marled wool. Available at jcrew.com, $88.

Save the Bay.

2009-11-12T18:52:00.003-05:00

Looking through some WWII-era LL Bean catalogs I picked up, a constant on the few color-print pages was a white blanket with stripes in primary colors. Although my family never had one of these around (grandparents preferred loose knit afghans), I vaguely remembered them from friends’ homes as a kid (and the Preppy Handbook, guide to many things both cool and Bean). These are Hudson’s Bay blankets, a Canadian classic with some weird connotations.

The blankets are basically synonymous with the Hudson’s Bay Company, the centuries-old organization that ran large-scale trading (essentially for beaver pelts) in Canada from the 17th through 19th centuries. The Bay, as it’s colloquially known, is still around—how’s that for heritage? Suck it, Woolrich.

The blankets were one of the primary bartering currencies when English and French traders conducted business with indigenous Canadians. Allegedly, the white color was good camouflage in the snow, although that seems to conflict with the primary colored stripes that are often woven into the blankets (the ubiquitous multicolor blanket is sometimes called a chief's blanket). The blankets’ quality (or size, sources are vague) was defined by “points”—marks (not the multicolor stripes) sewn on the blankets that denoted their value.

Today, Hudson’s Bay blankets and similar blankets made back in the day by English and French weavers are sought-after collector’s items. In the US, you can still buy the real deal from Woolrich (or, maybe, from Bean, who is a little vaguer about the origin of their blanket—it best be real for that amount of cash!). Bemidji Woolen Mills also carries them. In 1948, a 72" x 90", 6-pound blanket ran $19.85 postpaid from LL Bean. Today, a similar blanket is $289. Considering Bean boots were $6.95 at the time, that's really not a bad price.

The Bay blanket doesn't just appeal to a vague nostalgia for something I never experienced at the time--a wool blanket with some heft is a nice change from today's lightweight, pilly fleece slankets. Often re-purposed on the Canadian frontier as coats, packs, or whatever needed to be made with durable, natural fabric, the blankets are also undoubdedly influential when it comes to non-blanket style. Did the primary colors used in the blankets inspire LL Bean’s 90s palette? Are this year’s striped fabrics from Woolrich Woolen Mills echoing Bay blankets?

Keep on telling me about the good life, because it makes me puke.

2009-11-07T17:18:00.002-05:00

Couch-ridden, I've been working my way through my Netflix and OnDemand backlogs. Yesterday's highlight (and I am being discriminating here; I watched nearly 10 hours of TV) was Five Easy Pieces (1970), starring Jack Nicholson. Fresh off the success of Easy Rider, Nicholson got a beefy role as Bobby Duprea in this film costarring Karen Black, another Easy Rider alum and, in my opinion, really hard to watch as Bobby's maudlin airhead girlfriend Rayette.

I'd seen Five Easy Pieces in a college film class, but the terrible print and unfocused classroom environment left me with only an impressionistic memory of it--something about oil, music, a sailor--I had mostly forgotten. It's really pretty fresh for a movie that's nearly 40 years old. I also recently caught Alexander Olch's The Windmill Movie--a recent, raw documentary dealing with self loathing related to talent and class, as well as mental illness and womanizing--they make good companions.

I probably wouldn't bother writing about it, though, if it weren't for how badass Jack Nicholson was circa 1970. It's really hard to explain to anyone under 40 (caveat: I'm under 30) how cool Jack Nicholson can be. Most people my age and younger knew him first as the Joker, or even worse playing characters in decline--the pitiful mysogynist of As Good As It Gets, the crushed salesman of About Schmidt, the goddamn joke of The Bucket List.

But Nicholson tore shit up in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Five Easy Pieces, and Easy Rider. Check out some screen shots of him and the excellent wardrobe in Five Easy Pieces--easily shifting between blue collar Bobby in the oil fields in a flannel, stained jeans, and workboots, and pacific northwest piano prodigy in a black turtleneck and corduroy jacket. Not to mention the burgundy MA-1 jacket with a giant knit collar. Just ignore the hair. Not sure what was going on back then.

Something is beautiful and true.

2009-11-06T18:19:00.002-05:00

Four days spent in denial, mostly in bed, popping Advil and swigging NyQuil, I give up. I have swine flu. On one hand, no one wants me to come to work. On the other, there's no "grass is greener" situation more obvious than when a kid hopes he has a fever to get out of school. Fevers are fucking miserable.

See you next Tuesday.

Desiderata—Garbstore parka.

2009-11-06T18:07:00.002-05:00

The Garbstore (the clothing line, not the shop) could reasonably be criticized for being latecomers to this fall’s overwhelming heritage outdoors trend—in past seasons they’ve focused more on militaria and motorcycle styles—but designer/founder Ian Paley has been out front of enough clothing movements that it’s a dangerous criticism to make. The guy worked with Paul Smith on the R. Newbold line (which was resurrecting vintage inspirations a decade ago--well before I cared for damn sure), founded clever British streetwear line One True Saxon, and now runs the Garbstore’s clothing line and tastemaking shop in Portobello, London.

It’s always a shame when I can only see interesting stuff like Garbstore online or in magazines, so I was pleased to check out some of their stuff at For the Greater Good in DC. Keeping with Paley’s accessible streetwear sensibility, the stuff is vintage inspired but not as minimalist as a line like Engineered Garments or as bogged down by authenticity as other labels. The standout piece was a green parka (alright, I like parkas. I don’t even own one!) done in a tightly woven canvas from Japan (linen cotton blend, apparently) in a really catching shade of green. I’m tapped out on cash and closet space right now, but I wouldn’t mind owning this.

Don't know whether to blame VAT or shipping, but this jacket is $340 from For the Greater Good, but nearly $500 from Garbstore.

Full of grace.

2009-10-27T20:15:00.003-04:00

On a trip to NY a few weeks back I had the opportunity to stop by MOMA, a museum I’ve always overlooked as I cluster as many sights, delis, and shops into my occasional weekends in the city. We spent a leisurely, thoughtful couple of hours exploring on a Friday afternoon, dodging school groups and an endless throng of Europeans, who seem not to recognize “please don’t touch” rules.

I shouldn’t have been surprised to see so many seminal works—but you see reproductions of something like Starry Night so often, it’s easy to walk right by the originals before doing a double take. The works that held our attention longest, though, were photographs. Maybe in the past I just didn’t get photography—after all, you’re just capturing on film what anyone could see, amirite? But we were blown away by the 19th century landscapes, Farm Security Agency documentaries, and of course Avedon portraits.
As I worked my way around the walls of one gallery, a work by Gertrude Kasebier broke my rhythm. Both Courtney and I had seen this one before (in an art textbook? A lit book? A novel cover?) but seeing the small, sepia print in the museum was different, and affecting.

Kasebier worked around the turn of the century and, as an associate of Alfred Stieglitz, helped to legitimize photography as an art form, particularly portraiture. Her painterly photos, many of which reference religious iconography, sold well in their time and are museum standards today. A number can be viewed on Shorpy. I’m not an expert, so if you want to learn more you’ll have to learn it elsewhere, but I’m posting a few of her works, including the one that stopped us in our tracks—“Blessed Art Thou Among Women.”

Blessed Art Thou Among Women

The Gerson Sisters

Portrait of sculptor Chester Beach

Newport Laundress

The photographer herself--not her photo. Looks like a staunch woman!

Note that some of her works have no known restrictions on reproduction—prints can be ordered from places like Shorpy and the Library of Congress.

Desiderata—Craft Associates rocking chair by Adrian Pearsall.

2009-10-27T07:12:00.002-04:00

One of my favorite DC shops—Millennium Decorative Arts, on U Street NW—has this rocking chair in their basement of mid-century delights right now. With its combination of soft edges at weird angles, it makes me slightly uncomfortable, like I should sit in it and listen to twelve-tone music or consider Russian philosophers. At nearly $800, it’s not cheap for what I hope wouldn’t be the most comfortable chair in any room, but it’s a lot better than what the same chair (refurbished) is going for at 1stdibs–an eye-popping $3200.

Desiderata—Phillies world series tickets.

2009-10-22T20:56:00.002-04:00

My wife recently accused me of stepping up my sports fandom since we met (in 2001). She claims that back in college I didn’t care enough to watch every game, read the post mortems the next morning, and discuss obscure stats with other dudes. I’m going to admit to being a bandwagoneer here, because naturally I didn’t care about the Phils in 2001. They sucked. Robert Person was the Phillies’ ace starter (he did have 3 complete games). Bobby Abreu was the offensive star. The 2001 Eagles made a nice run, but it took most of us by surprise. I watched the Flyers when I got the chance (not on TV much in Maryland), and they suffered a disappointing first-round playoff loss to Ottawa. Plus, the sports internet was still finding itself. Now every morning I wake up and can read hometown sports pages, analytical blogs, snarky blogs, and a handful of national columns on Philly teams. Plus, the Phillies are threatening to repeat as World Series Champs. Of COURSE I’m a bigger sports fan now than I was.

Still no fantasy football, though; that’s for nerds.

Home tickets for the World Series are currently selling for over $500 for the right to stand in the stadium, so I’m filing it under desiderata (“desired things”), the implication being, no fucking chance I’m going. Once the Yankees eliminate the Angels, prices are sure to go higher, and a WS ticket at Yankee stadium will be ludicrously expensive, and who wants to spend a cool grand to hang out in a room full of jerks? I’ll settle for watching at home with a Yuengling ($1) and a Wawa hoagie ($3.99).

Sixty forty.

2009-10-01T21:49:00.003-04:00

In London nearly a decade ago, I opened the door of the townhouse where we had class to a surprise--cold UK rain. Being an entirely unprepared American in jeans and a tshirt, I asked our hopelessly British administrator for help--an umbrella, a jacket, anything. Lizzy pulled a sprayway jacket out of the closet and offered it with a sneer--"Ugh, if you can stand wearing it, I have this--yech--anorak." Pipecleaner thin, with a shock of unnaturally red hair and matching red lipstick, Lizzy wore wool dresses and significant leather boots, all in shades of gray and black, carried an umbrella at all times, and would sooner wear kitten fur than Gore Tex. My classmates, on the other hand, were uniformly clad in North Face shells in varsity red or Gorton's yellow. I gladly obliged and wore Lizzy's spare anorak for weeks whenever it rained. I suspect she was glad to see it get some use, but I think she also lost whatever respect she had for me.

Although tech gear has never faded from the U.S. apparel landscape (see the perspicacious SWPL) only recently has interest turned from having the latest and greatest to appreciating the back catalogue of labels like Sierra Designs and Holubar, an old North Face competitor. That ratty sprayway jacket would have fit in well. As all these things seem to go, the resurgence of interest hit Japan first, and Japan is now the exclusive release location for new products from Sierra Designs, Kelty, and others that are essentially reissues of their old gear. The argument seems to be that, hey, it worked great before we knew any better, and the design was solid. The packs, parkas, and vests look technical without being stuffy, overdesigned, or self-conscious. A few pics of parka picks below--I would own some of this stuff if I had the confidence to buy from Japan (sizing is an issue for me as a US 42R). The originals pop up on American ebay and in thrift stores regularly, although the ebay market has positively exploded with the interest from Japan and coverage from blogs like acontinuouslean. New, U.S.-made outdoor gear is experiencing a hip retail rebirth, with Crescent Down Works parkas carried in South Willard and Steven Alan carrying a flannel lined down vest.

Engineered Garments has had carried a parka cut in different fabrics for years--this one is a spring version in cotton.

Sierra Designs' classic 60/40 mountain parka (Japan only)

A Class 5 reversible pullover anorak... I bought one of these in blue off ebay earlier this year and then sold it. Regrets. It has a kangaroo pocket that you can loop a pack strap through.

A Fjallraven Greenland jacket in the classic outdoor nerd blue.

Academy Fight Song... jacket.

2009-09-22T22:03:00.002-04:00

Got the samples in for my Centralia Knitting Mills varsity/letterman jackets. Apparently my name is Monica, and I play, uh, band. The pieces are nice--leather is thick and well stitched, wool is heavy, and there's a stiffness to the whole jacket that makes me think it will break in nicely this fall. Can't wait for the real thing to arrive, sans patches and in my colors of choice.

More real posts TK, soon, promise.

Good things are fantastic. A short list.

2009-08-24T21:11:00.003-04:00

1. My bike. I followed through on my expressed wish and got a used bike off craig and had it fixed up. As a simple accountant's son, I'm not man enough to replace tires and tune a bike myself--yet. Riding around my block, I looked like a little kid. Until I put on my new helmet; then I looked like the grown-ass nerd that I am.

2. The approach of fall. Today was the first day in a month I dared shut off the A/C and open a few windows. Was getting a little stale in here. Someone said that about two weeks of each season is really enjoyable, and goddamn am I looking forward to that. Old Rag here I come.

3. Future of the Left--Travels with Myself and Another. mcclusky it isn't, but it's nice to hear Andy Falkous's filthy yawp again. I've been blasting this reliably in the car, but they work a little blue, so best to keep it down around family.

4. Centralia Knitting Mills products. If everything goes according to plan and budget, I'll have a nifty new cardigan and a campus-ready letterman jacket by homecoming (I lettered in hurling at the Jug Bay Academy).

To be continued with more culture and shallow lifestyle items...

Top 10 Colleges and Universities for Your Dad to Have Attended

2009-08-11T09:17:00.001-04:00

10. Notre Dame. How else would you get tickets to see their legendary football team? They’re still good, right?
9. Harvard. Obv. Opens so many doors for you—like the door to being an uppity dick about college.
8. Swarthmore. Even if you don’t get to go there yourself, you can always sneer at others’ mispronunciation.
7. Berklee. Because dad can probably handle an ax and even people who aren’t familiar with Berklee will assume he went to Berkeley, which, hey, is no slouch.
6. Penn State. Pro: Your dad knows how to party. Con: You may well live in rural Pennsylvania.
5. Strayer University. Kidding! Diplomas from Strayer confer all the rights and privileges of a Strayer graduate on you (or current resident).
4. La Sorbonne. It would be embarrassing if people asked about your father’s alma mater and he said “The U.” It would be crazy awesome if he said “La Sorbonne.” La Fucking Sorbonne.
3. Princeton. I just feel like Princeton should be #3 (it will piss them off). Plus, you’re a legacy not only at a top-flight university, but also at some sort of fancy cafeteria.
2. Washington College. If I can start a rumor that WAC is awesome (ahead of Princeton on this list!), maybe my kids will benefit.
1. School of Hard Knocks. Seems to be the universal #1 school for dads. They never shut up about it.

Some thoughts on a casual viewing of and light research on the video for Blur's "Country House."

2009-08-03T07:15:00.003-04:00

1. Despite anything else I have to say about it, this is a good song that holds up.
2. The tone of the song is inscrutable, at least to these American ears. Is it poking fun at the British upper class country culture? Is it celebrating escape? Is it just a stupid pop song?
3. The video doesn't really help with interpretation.
4. Country House was a #1 single in England.
5. The video was directed by Damien Hirst, him of actual crystal skull fame.
6. The video has a cameo (or I guess, a part played by) Matt Lucas, more recently of Little Britain and soon to be of Alice in Wonderland fame. Lucas was 20 at the time.
7. Speaking of which, this artifact of the 90s is 14 years old.
8. Remember when Damon Albarn was just dreamy?
9. Remember when being just dreamy seemed to involve dressing like a Christian rock star? Nice hair and earring, Damon. I can't wait until you discover African music.
10. Are the Benny Hill bits pure joke? Homage? An excuse to get busty page 6 girls in tubs with dreamy Damon? It's this sort of ambiguity that makes Hirst such a great, rich, rich artist.
11. Hirst (or someone on the set) loved that shot of the front door opening with the neon sign. What a juxtaposition! Wow, Mr. Hirst.
12. Bohemian Rhapsody? Am I supposed to think that's funny, or that Blur are the new Queen? I just don't know.
13. This was a #1 single in England.

Nerds. Nerds. Nerds.

2009-08-01T19:50:00.003-04:00

I'm buying a varsity jacket. I'm 28 years old and I have not earned it. I played JV baseball in high school and rowed novice crew in college (and they use different jackets anyway) but I don't much care. In middle school I proudly wore a hand-me-down varsity from a neighbor in bright red, despite the fact that every school I went to before college used blue and gold. Hillside--blue and gold. St. Monica's--blue and gold. Devon Prep--blue and gold. I don't know if it's weird that I've always dug scholastic sportswear when I never took sports seriously enough to even think about considering wearing a varsity jacket in earnest.

Enough about me, here's some badass varsitys. I'm ordering mine from Centralia Knitting Mills in Washington state, an old school maker that's made knitwear and jackets for lines like Engineered Garments and Woolrich Woolen Mills, among others, so you know they're quality. I don't have the means to source nifty fabrics so I'm limited to the standard school colors--I'm thinking gray leather raglan sleeves and a wine dark wool body--no blue and gold. See you at the pep rally.

The color photos are all Centralia Knitting Mills (sometimes branded Skookum Sportswear) jackets. B/W photos are Take Ivy scans.

Drei Astronauten, gehackt.

2009-07-27T19:29:00.002-04:00

Generally under-covered in today's history textbooks is the 1969 incident in which Richard Nixon, jealous of the Apollo 11 astronauts' popularity, tried to bake them at 350 degrees for 2 hours, using a recipe provided by Secretary Kissinger.

"As a result of what you've done, the world has never been closer together before... now turn over as I baste you with your own juices."

An ocean's garbled vomit on the shore.

2009-07-26T20:13:00.002-04:00

I guess Los Angeles was a little better than that. It was giant and crowded, bright all the time, hot to the point that you stepped from shade into direct sunlight with the reluctance of someone stepping off a cliff, and husk dry. A terrible place to be hungover. But a good one for taking vague photos that look pleasant on a blog.

Fort Rainout

2009-07-23T20:21:00.005-04:00

Argh. First Fort Reno of the summer I've had the energy to go to (I blame the Red Line for a general evening malaise) and it gets washed out by the first substantial rainfall since June. Sorry Benjy Ferree and 90s hottie 00s mope Ms. Timony.

Good occasion for sitting down and sorting out some music type things.

The Dead Weather
I'll mirror Sasha Frere-Jones, whose assessment of the Jonathan Glazer video is pretty right on, a few thoughts on the Dead Weather:

1. Am I the only person who thinks they at least sort of suck? Generally Favorable Reviews all over.

2. Is it a supergroup if only one of the people is famous? Yeah, start with one of the best guitarists from the last 25 years... on drums. Then add the guitarist from QOTSA's bad albums. And that guy from Jack White's other band--no, not the White Stripes, and no, not Brendan Benson. And a girl from a band whose niche I'm not at all clear on. Maybe have them rap! Yeah.

3. I had no idea the chick from Fla pop punk outfit Discount had an actual music career. Think I saw them at the Wilkes Barre fest in 1996. I'm not sure I could drive yet.

4. That video is pretty cool, and Sexy Beast is still good.

Doves
Little late as this one came out months ago. Doves went from a late-era rave group to a mildly stoner astralwerks-ish rock band (my favorite era) to objects of mocky nostalgia quickly... or it wasn't that quick and I just haven't paid very close attention. But there's not a Doves album I don't like.

Titular single Kingdom of Rust has the same quotidian grandness of previous epics like "Catch the Sun" or "Caught by the River"--a folky strum over a brushed rhythm that sounds like traveling even before you see the video. Bring in the ringing electric notes for the chorus. I'll throw it on the pile of records that ought to come in handy if I ever get around to driving cross-country.

I won't miss the final Fort Reno of the year, starring Title Tracks, which seals the season next Thursday. Also hoping to make the reliably awesome Run for Cover at the Black Cat the following Saturday, August 1--$10 for guaranteed entertainment in the form of local scenesters performing as shambolic, one-off cover bands.

More posts to come, probably before it rains again...

I know a place where the dancin's free.

2009-06-25T06:21:00.002-04:00

Headed up, down the shore this weekend. Hope to get my fill of kitsch and the beach. If I had my druthers, I'd be dressed like the dude below left. He's just aware of the damaging effects of UV rays on the generally Irish.

Photo (from Shorpy) of beachgoers in Asbury Park about 60 years pre-Bruuuuuce. Speaking of whom, I've been jonesing for Bruce-biting music for awhile. The newest Hold Steady didn't do it for me (neither did the newest Bruce album), and the Secret Service-endorsed Gaslight Anthem seemed to be a contender, but their album has a shallowness that belies their Bruceworthiness. For this weekend I'll go with the original of probably the most famous Bruce cover.

Tom Waits -- Jersey Girl

The Ethicalist: Pawnbrokers.

2009-06-17T22:31:00.002-04:00

Dear Ethicalist,

I’ve been jonesing fierce for a new bike. Not something overly awesome, or something I need a beard and a steady diet of falafel to ride—a used bike in the style of Breaking Away would be i-fucking-deal. Just needs to get me to Whole F—I mean the liquor-and-awesome-pants store—and back, be OK out in the rain for a leisurely time and not all self conscious about rust, and best not too coveted by thieves.
I’ve spied a few such conveyances in my local gray market. They meet my wants and at a not unreasonable ransom. I don’t mind buying used Ibanez guitars at pawn shops, for mulleteers in distress are not my concern, but pawn shop bikes, I worry, may be the ends of the very rack-poachin I pray to avoid myself. Is it ethical for me to buy low from a tattooed gentleman who considers shotgun shells office supplies, or should I save up and pay the cost to be boss?

Yours, truly,
Silver Spring Sans Cycle

Dear SSSC,
Your hand-wringing is unbecoming. Pawnbrokers are not all fences—what self-respecting midnight marauder would steal the class of crap in most pawn shops? Pawns are a community institution—the eBay of history. They even have an established symbol, like barbers, only with less cutting hair and more usury. If 29.9% APR on my credit card is ethical, your purchase of a bike from a pawn shop is ethical. You may even be helping some nice young man cover his unfortunate tab at the Quarry House. Those $8 ryes really add up!
Yours ethically,
Andy Cone

A-town, what!

2009-06-13T18:28:00.003-04:00

Sure, it's a little hypocritical to laugh at the yuppie extremes of Arlington from the only mildly less sanitized yupster paradise of Silver Spring, but... Ahahahahahaha.

WTF, Commonwealth?

2009-06-13T17:06:00.004-04:00

Beer is one of my favorite things, up there with sleep, reading (during which activity I often fall asleep), and watching baseball (basically sleep, too). I love living in DC, a city where beer is taken pretty seriously--we have Birreria Paradiso for any number of interesting brews, Brasserie Beck for Belgians, the Saloon for Germans, and the Brickskeller, with a beer list that is so long, the fact that they're usually out of about 25% isn't too bad. Although we're depressingly short on creative brewpubs, we even have some decent, reasonably local breweries--Dominion in VA, Wild Goose in MD, and Hook and Ladder.

Commonwealth Gastropub claims to fill a pretty big gap in the scene--a British bar with creative food and good UK beers. After several visits in the year or so since they've opened, I don't see it. Commonwealth has the food part mostly right--nice limey snacks like Welsh rarebit and Scotch eggs (not a lot of Scotch eggs on DC menus), tasty trout, and different takes on meat pies. But the beer has not caught up. They have a few nice draughts--Wells Bombardier, for one--and an OK selection of bottles, but for the most part it looks like the import shelf in any American liquor store--Newcastle, Boddington's, Old Speckled Hen, St. Peter's. I was able to buy any of that in my college hicktown, where the #1 sellers were Nattys Boh and Light.

Commonwealth has no Fuller's, one Black Sheep, one Young's (Chocolate Stout, also a liquor store standby), and although they claim to have cask-conditioned ale, on every trip there they've been conveniently out. Where in the name of Ollie Cromwell can a man get a pint of real ale in DC?!

Photo of Commonwealth's patio by flickr user Needlessspaces.

#1 hit of the summer.

2009-06-08T19:53:00.003-04:00

Summer goes official on the solstice (RIP Love Fest), but it was culturally official on Memorial Day, and I've already grilled burgers twice already and listened to a shameful amount of Grateful Dead, so it feels like summer. And yet, my search for the feel good hit of this summer continues. Contenders dismissed below.

1. Wilco -- Bull Black Nova
Sky Blue Sky snuck up on me on little Tweedy feet in 2007. I thought it sucked. Others agreed. It was in Volkswagen commercials; and I was horrified (rumors I owned a Volkswagen at the time could not be confirmed). But goddamn if the Nels Cline solo on Impossible Germany isn't one of the best musical moments of the decade. And I never held Passat Dream against Pavement. So now SBS is one of my go-to summer drive albums, along with disc 1 of Being There. While I'm hoping for some of the same on Wilco, Bull Black Nova is too much on edge for casual listening--it's kind of terrifying. (Also, Tweedy needs to drop the "wine-dark sea" construction, he used up his quota with "bible-black predawn" on "I Am Trying to Break your Heart.")

2. Grizzly Bear -- Two Weeks
I can't say much about this song that hasn't already been said by a dozen other blogs, but I'll mention that I haven't gone a day in weeks without listening to it, and it's a rare track indeed that gets that gets its hooks in me as quick and deep as this one.

3. Cymbals Eat Guitars -- Living North
Already covered. Already a little tired of.

4. Peter, Bjorn, and John -- Nothing to Worry About
I know this came out in January, but it cries out for summer. PB+J have a lot going for them here--90s Janet Jackson-y string sample, boom-boom-bap head nodding percussion, an ear-effing chorus (I think they lifted lyrics from their own song). It would sound right at the beach, it would sound right at the Black Cat. But it falls a little short. Too repetitive, too much Kanye association.

5. The Pains of Being Pure at Heart -- Young Adult Friction
First Everything with You was my favorite, all sunshiney innocence drowning in fuzzed out guitars, and who gives a crap what he's saying. Then it was A Teenager in Love, all ripping off Bowie and darkly comic and no one caring. Young Adult Friction is a solid single, though. It all comes together so quickly, the left-right-left beat, back and forth harmonies, library romance plot, and then by the time you get to singalong hook, it's all over. You win, Pains.

Bonus: The B side to the Young Adult Friction single--Ramona--may be up for best winter song.

Like watching awesome paint dry--AFI Silverdocs picks.

2009-06-03T20:03:00.003-04:00

Honestly, I'd prefer that a reputable film festival walking distance from home would show more than just documentaries. I don't watch a lot of documentaries for leisure (probably related--I don't read much nonfiction), and those I watch tend to be music-related or consist mostly of standup. I do like the occasional treatise on typeface.

But, you don't look a gift festival in the mouth, and the American Film Institute's Silverdocs festival (June 15-22) reminds me that documentary != boring filmstrips on igneous rock or bovine university. This year's slate seems a little thin on star power (no Jarmusch, no Scorsese) and films for me, although Albert Maysles will be feted and the fest may bring Lebron to Silver Spring, now that the Cavs are out of the NBA playoffs. Of course, there's a nice bundle of docs that hover between "not worth $10" and "not worth fighting for tickets with Montgomery County bobos."

R.J. Cutler's The September Issue takes a look at producing the most important, most bloated Vogue of the year. I assume it's a more honest look at Anna Wintour than The Devil Wears Prada, with more access and, unfortunately, less Anne Hathaway. 90 minutes, showing Friday June 19 at 7:15. The director and Post fashion editor Robin Givhan will discuss the film afterwards.

I can barely force myself to take the trash out on the right day. No Impact Man is the story of Colin Beavan, who opts to never have to take the trash out--spending a year with as little effect on the environment as possible. What could be a hippie snoozer may be saved by the fact that the dude asks his wife and young daughter to do the same. I look forward to a lot of Barry Lyndon lighting. 92 minutes, showing Thursday, June 18, at 4:45, and Saturday, June 20, at 9.

Some other contenders--Best Worst Movie, about (what else?) Troll 2 and directed by its child star; Cat Ladies, which tries to explain the phenomenon (I am not in this film... yet); Rise Up, about trying to make it in the Jamaican reggae scene (as opposed to the Kutztown, PA, reggae scene?); and Soul Power, made using footage of the 1974 James Brown, etc. music festival in Zaire before the Rumble in the Jungle.

I'll always remember this night, Jane.

2009-05-20T06:44:00.002-04:00

My reaction when Evan Dando put a band together and released an album in 2006 was "Who asked for this?" But the record reminded everyone how good Dando could be and we were all swept away by nostalgia for when we didn't like the Lemonheads, his frank singing and clever wordplay, and of course his dreamy eyes (my wife made me write that). Since then (and forever) there's been a raft of new bands trading in nostalgia for music they were not only not there for the first time, but also not old enough to have been there for it. The Vampire Weekend guys were but a twinkle reflected in a pair of wayfarers when the Talking Heads records they successfully ape came out. I can vouch that Pains of Being Pure at Heart were listening to Tom Petty's Into the Great Wide Open in 1991, not Black Tambourine (Silver Spring's own indie pop superstars).

Cymbals Eat Guitars doesn't reach quite that far back, and their influences aren't as obvious (the Pains are gleefully shameless in their cribbing from twee pop groups). Their debut, Why There Are Mountains, rings with noisy guitars and trebly vocals that recall early Modest Mouse or more manic Built to Spill. On the most immediate track, Living North, Joseph D'Agostino mashes the emo and the absurd--"We've been trying to mean it as sincerely as he did... I found a dog's leash on the shores of the Pacific it means nothing to me," while the band churns on a Ponys-esque guitar line.

Other tracks are sneakier. The 6-minute "...And the Hazy Sea" borrows some of Isaac Brock's sprawling American travel imagery and blasts off with layered vocals and compressed instrumentation, giving way to braided guitar/vocal melodies that Malkmus would've liked in 1995. It's a grower.

Cymbals are doing pretty well for an unsigned band. Their fans include Charles Bissell of the Wrens and everyone's favorite indie kingmaker.

They're coming to the Black Cat in DC Thursday, May 28, to open for Jon Davis's Title Tracks.

Cymbals Eat Guitars -- Living North

They can mark the date down, May 17, as an unusual ballgame.

2009-05-18T20:08:00.004-04:00

That's what Rich Ashburn had to say about the 1979 Phillies-Cubs contest that ended with 45 runs scored. Thirty years ago last weekend, the Phils beat the tiny bears, 23-22.

Tyler Kepner, a Philly-area native who has been the New York Times beat writer for the Mets and now the Yankees, wrote a nice piece on the game last weekend. The article was made a little more poignant by the passing of Danny Ozark, who managed the Phillies to that shambles of a victory. Kepner interviewed Ozark for the Phils-Cubs piece just weeks before his death, and has a piece on that, too.

Not to go all Buzz Bissinger here, but the first article is the kind of piece for which blogs just aren't a good medium (although Tyler Kepner is a blogger). It's a short piece that required a good deal of research, rather than Wikipedia and ESPN.com (although it does make use of the estimable Elias Sports Bureau). It sets context, has perspective, and moves at the unhurried pace of a baseball game. I'd like to see Tyler on the Sports Reporters. Maybe next time Mitch Albom is taking a break to get his hair sculpted over his ears they can fit him in.

Addendum: more things.

2009-05-15T07:00:00.002-04:00

1. Silver Spring farmer's market. Sure, may not be "worth it" in the sense of good nutritional value for your dollar, but I'll pay a 10% grocery tax when the return is that I rise early on Saturdays, get out of the house, and cook with fresh meat, vegetables, and eggs. It warms the cockles of my yuppie heart. And I guess my price threshold for a chocolate croissant is somewhere north of $2.50.

2. Silverdocs documentary film festival. Although not much can top the event that was the outdoor Joe Strummer documentary followed by a Ted Leo show in DTSS from a few years back, or an early showing of the Aristocrats, the fest is always good for a few thinkers. The full schedule will be out May 21, but already announced are More Than a Game, a documentary following five Akron high school ballplayers, one of whom turned out to be Lebron James, and the Nine Lives of Marion Barry (self explanatory). The guest honoree this year is Albert Maysles, so maybe we'll get an outdoor showing of Gimme Shelter. Who wouldn't like to see a Hell's Angels beat down in downtown Silver Spring?

3. Cheap and available tickets to see the Phillies. In DC, we get three series to watch the WFC Phillies, and unlike in Philadelphia, tickets are plentiful because there are no Nats fans.

Now we can see.

2009-05-14T07:17:00.004-04:00

I subscribe to the Jay Reatard school of rock, in which if you have a slow song on a record, you speed it up live. And if you have a fast song, you speed it up live. The Thermals aren't down. Hutch Harris, Kathy Foster, and the drummer/hype man (dude stood up and gestured to the audience every time they played a particularly rockin' song) put on a good show though--mostly killer, some filler. They started out very strong with Returning to the Fold, the second best cut on BBM. I own the entire Thermals catalog, and I was still a little bored once or twice.

They played both Saints and Sappy, which fit their style well--I may have been the only person singing along to the lyrics (something about a laundry room).

Here's your future.

2009-05-13T07:16:00.006-04:00

The Thermals play tonight at the Black Cat DC. Surprised this one's not sold out yet. $13, doors at 8, Thermals onstage at 10:30. I'm sure they'll play some material off their righteously catchy 2006 record, the Body, the Blood, the Machine, as well as new stuff from Now We Can See, which apparently is about death. But they're so upbeat.

Apparently, they've been doing a couple of covers live (not always)--a Breeders tune and Nirvana's Sappy, otherwise known as Verse Chorus Verse and originally released on every Columbia House subscriber's favorite alternative comp, No Alternative, a record I both think is awesome and am kind of embarrassed for (much like the entire 1990s).

The Breeders -- Saints

10 things to look forward to.

2009-05-11T19:27:00.007-04:00

Recently had a couple of rough days after a couple of long weeks. Not a "reconsider the direction of my life" kind of time, just a "goddamn when can I just relax for a few minutes" kind of time. A good occasion to sit down, take stock, and think about the not-to-distant future.

1. Summer food. I've been apartment-bound and grill-less for far too long. At some point I will be found on the patio, drinking a Tecate michelada, and grilling flank steak. Or grilling clams and corn. Or grilling some dogs.

2. Fort Reno. The summer concert series starts soon--I missed their benefit at the Black Cat last weekend (woops). The schedule isn't out yet, but I can't wait to lay on some cool grass and watch some DC talent play, silhouetted against the Fort Reno towers. Don't forget to donate.

3. Summer reading. I have a few beach trips planned, and they always provide good opportunities for falling asleep while reading. To that end, I plan on trying out Christopher Buckley's Losing Mum and Pup, Murakami's running book, and something cribbed from KC's list. Maybe something light and straightforward, like Infinite Jest. That would look tented on my chest in a hammock, open to page 6.

4. Training for the Army 10-miler. After running the Baltimore half-marathon, I've decided it's a good thing to have something like this scheduled for October to make me manage my time/beer intake during the summer. Not good enough to twitter training updates, of course. I'm registered for the race and I'm putting my personal goal right here: 90 minutes. I've been working out, drinking milk, maybe wearing a half shirt around.

5. Summer playlists. I've listened to enough Smiths, twee pop, and New Order for awhile, it's time for Springsteen, Wilco, and Toots.

6. Go-to-hell clothes. I've got the anchor shorts, white bucks, and madras ties (sweet) ready to go. Just waiting for the right occasion, like, say, a summer wedding on a yacht in 1982.

7. Release of F/W lines. As much as I love tshirt weather, I prefer defending myself from the elements with layers of tweed and down. Woolrich Woolen Mills fall collection, I'm looking at you.

8. Tennis (playing).

9. Baseball (watching distractedly).

10. Laziness. As exemplified by these last three items.

Photo from the great Shorpy.

P.S. I joined twitter, I think right after Larry King, which seems about right.

Just the prescription talking.

2009-03-26T20:04:00.003-04:00

When a song is overplayed on Philadelphia's WXPN, you can be pretty sure all the cool was wrung out of it months ago. I have a lot of affection for Philly's all-music public radio station, which was my constant companion when I painted houses for a few years (at least once I'd had enough of Eskin onWIP), but it's the epitome of NPR culture--always smiling and slightly behind the curve.

So I was sad to learn that I was behind XPN, which was behind the rest of the world, on Glasvegas (and their single, Geraldine). I'd heard it a handful of times, and thought the band was another Coldplay-a-like. I didn't connect it with the band that played the Rock and Roll Hotel in DC a few months back--I wonder now how their cavernous sound played in that little space.

Geraldine has all the hallmarks of a radio hit--steady beat, arcing guitar notes, a simple melody. The lyrics, warbled in a marble-mouthed Scottish accent, are uplifting in an unspecific way--"I'll talk you back from the edge... Be your shepherd and your guide." Thanks; Coldplay already fixed me. But Glasvegas wryly throws in a prescription drug reference and then admits that this isn't a lover or spiritual force talking--it's just our social worker. That probably makes us listeners listless neds.

More rules.

2009-03-26T19:48:00.004-04:00

John Updike's rules for reviewing, from his book, Picked-Up Pieces (by way of the New Yorker):

My rules, shaped intaglio-fashion by youthful traumas at the receiving end of critical opinion, were and are:

1. Try to understand what the author wished to do, and do not blame him for not achieving what he did not attempt.

2. Give him enough direct quotation--at least one extended passage--of the book's prose so the review's reader can form his own impression, can get his own taste.

3. Confirm your description of the book with quotation from the book, if only phrase-long, rather than proceeding by fuzzy precis.

4. Go easy on plot summary, and do not give away the ending. (How astounded and indignant was I, when innocent, to find reviewers blabbing, and with the sublime inaccuracy of drunken lords reporting on a peasants' revolt, all the turns of my suspenseful and surpriseful narrative! Most ironically, the only readers who approach a book as the author intends, unpolluted by pre-knowledge of the plot, are the detested reviewers themselves. And then, years later, the blessed fool who picks the volume at random from a library shelf.)

5. If the book is judged deficient, cite a successful example along the same lines, from the author's ouevre or elsewhere. Try to understand the failure. Sure it's his and not yours?

To these concrete five might be added a vaguer sixth, having to do with maintaining a chemical purity in the reaction between product and appraiser. Do not accept for review a book you are predisposed to dislike, or committed by friendship to like. Do not imagine yourself a caretaker of any tradition, an enforcer of any party standards, a warrior in an idealogical battle, a corrections officer of any kind. Never, never try to put the author "in his place," making him a pawn in a contest with other reviewers. Review the book, not the reputation. Submit to whatever spell, weak or strong, is being cast. Better to praise and share than blame and ban. The communion between reviewer and his public is based upon the presumption of certain possible joys in reading, and all our discriminations should curve toward that end.

Rules

2009-02-16T17:24:00.003-05:00

Jack Kerouac's works would suggest an author who was not bound by rules, or at least not comfortable with the notion of rules. A list of guidelines for writing, "Essentials for Spontaneous Prose," is full of his trademark shorthand, crammed compounds, and consciousness. Difficult to write or live by, certainly (you would be a mad one to try); but pretty to think about:

1. Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy
2. Submissive to everything, open, listening
3. Try to never get drunk outside yr own house
4. Be in love with yr life
5. Something that you feel will find it's own form
6. Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
7. Blow as deep as you want to blow
8. Write what you want bottomless from the bottom of the mind
9. The unspeakable visions of the individual
10. No time for poetry but but exactly what is
11. Visionary tics shivering in the chest
12. In tranced fixation dreaming upon the object before you
13. Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
14. Like Proust be an old teahead of time
15. Telling the true story of the world in the interior monolog
16. The jewel of the center of interest is the eye within the eye
17. Write in recollection and amazement of yourself
18. Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea
19. Accept loss forever
20. Believe in the holy contour of life
21. Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact within the mind
22. Don't think of words when you stop but to see the picture better
23. Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
24. No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language and knowledge
25. Write for the world to read and see your exact pictures of it
26. Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form
27. In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness
28. Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better
29. You're a Genius all the time
30. Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in Heaven

Note that I can't find an original source for this other than other unsourced internet pages; the first hit is wikipedia. So maybe take it with a grain of salt; but it would be interesting advice even were it fake.

Also, dcblogs, thanks for the link!

I ***=== DC.

2009-02-15T18:54:00.003-05:00

I did several ill-advised things yesterday.

1. I went to a museum in DC that charges for admission.
2. I ate at a restaurant on Valentine’s Day.
3. I attempted to meet up with diverse groups of friends who all had other things going on.
4. I went to Rocket Bar.
5. I did all of this when I was low on cash.

Any one item on this list can mean a miserable evening. I could’ve felt ripped off by the Newseum, considering the treasures that are available at all the government-sponsored museums in the area. I might’ve had to wait for a table in a sea of people trying desperately to prove they’re in love. I could’ve gotten in a fight over a shuffleboard table (it’s happened before). I could have missed connections and not seen the folks I intended to. I certainly could’ve overdrafted my bank account.

Somehow, all the following is true. The Newseum is full up of challenging and informative artifacts and exhibits well worth the $20 charge; we got a table at St. Ex as soon as we walked in; we discovered that Bar Pilar has a Saturday happy hour of which we were glad to take advantage; we got the last table at The Saloon; and Rocket Bar’s dbag clientele was so dbaggily smiley and genial (this part’s a little fuzzy, I admit) that I didn’t let the Dave-and-Buster’s-y awfulness of the place get to me. We slipped seamlessly in and out of our friends’ various Valentine’s plans. We even caught the Metro at all the right times. It was the kind of lucky evening that made our out-of-town visitors jealous at DC’s variety of nightlife and safe, clean public transit. This doesn’t happen too often, so I’m going to bask in today’s hangover.

A few recommendations that came out of all this:
-The fried green tomato BLT at St. Ex (BLFGT?)
-Happy hour at Pilar ($3 Tecates and Yuenglings)
-The red velvet cupcake at Pilar (I know, cupcakes are all up in your face these days)
-Rocket Bar’s policy of swiping your card (not taking it) for a tab, and not needing you to close it out (they just charge the card and add 18% gratuity) should be universal. It ensures a reasonable tip and that I won’t lose my card at a bar I dislike.

Somewhere in the Swamps of Jersey: Titus Andronicus

2009-02-03T20:39:00.002-05:00

I’d heard whispers about this band of kids from NJ for awhile, and had even checked out a few tunes on Titus’s myspace, but I was still unprepared for their newish album—The Airing of Grievances. It’s charmingly immature and expansive, kind of the opposite of Bon Iver’s focused minimalism.

On Fear and Loathing in Mahwah, NJ (which I’ve experienced myself), they include read quotations from the Shakespeare play (ruined for me in college by a droning professor). How high school is that? And the title is a Seinfeld allusion. But the ragged energy of the whole thing transcends the garage band touches. Patrick Stickles’s breathless vocals and the band’s rough-edged instrumentation (was it all recorded live?) make them a stateside counterpart to recent tourmates Los Campesinos! Kicking my own ass for missing their Ottobar show last month.

Stickles’s lyrics are less narratives than strings of aphorisms and sayings—a punk rock/hardcore conceit. From the self-titled track: “When they cut you up, they’ll tell you that it’s not gonna hurt, but they’re not gonna stop til they see you go to sleep in the dirt.” The pile-on of references to canonical books, plays, paintings, etc. should make me roll my eyes, but the irrepressible grit, fire, and sense of humor of the band make it seem less calculated sophistication than just enthusiasm for all things.

Comparable stuff: Bright Eyes, The Thermals, Los Campesinos!, Springsteen (why not?), your friend’s band in high school.

MP3: Titus Andronicus -- Titus Andronicus

Place I’d Like To Spend Money: For the Greater Good.

2009-01-10T09:58:00.003-05:00

I was always an almost-sneakerhead. I didn’t have Jordans as a kid, but like every other 10-year-old boy I lusted over them. I did play ball in a nice pair of Air Huaraches back when it wasn’t a complete joke for me to say I played ball. Despite a teenage affair with anti-consumerism (which involved, uh, ordering things, just from Dischord and Anok + Peace rather than CCS), I’ve always appreciated the quest for an object, whether it was a rare 7", an awesome Crass backpatch, or a pair of Airwalks.

Commonwealth is the place for sneakers in DC. The local branch of the Norfolk shop is stocked with hard-to-find (also expensive) kicks and clothing—from Reebok reissues to monochromatic Clae and Common Projects shoes. They used to be the only DC outlet for Supreme (now there’s none).

In October, Commonwealth owners opened For the Greater Good (FTGG) a few doors down on Florida Avenue in Adams Morgan. Trading the colorful flash of Commonwealth for more neutral tones, the shop’s décor is dominated by a display of old stereo speakers. Hanging evenly spaced on the walls are small black-and-white photos of icons and subversives like Nelson Mandela, Bob Dylan, Bruce Lee, and Castro (and JFK). It’s like Commonwealth’s older brother, back from college, working at his first real job and living in a studio apartment.

The space is not big, and the racks of clothing are intentionally sparse—they don’t put full size runs on the floor. Much of the stock is unique in DC. You won’t find British label YMC (slightly skinhead influenced, lots of gingham), hooligan favorite Stone Island (tech jackets made in Italy), newcomer Public School (convertible clothes in black and white), or Vancouver-based Wings and Horns (minimal goth fleece jackets) at other shops between here and NY, or at least Philly. FTGG also carries basics from APC and footwear from Sperry (midtop deck shoes) and Red Wing. The prevailing theme is classic, but not staid.

FTGG’s prices are fair, and while their merchandise is not cheap, it’s certainly more reasonable than a trip to NYC to find a similar spot. The all-growns-up shop occupies the wide middle ground in DC menswear between J. Press and Stussy.

Common Projects shell toes

A jacket from Public School

Cool Sperrys

Good stuff: Russell’s Chamois Oil and Obenauf's LP.

2009-01-08T20:22:00.003-05:00

MP3s have probably saved a couple of my friendships from the irreconcilable differences that have come up when I borrowed and generally destroyed friends’ CDs. I just like to get stuff more than I like to take care of it. My own CDs are scratched, my car is a reliable embarrassment, and although I launder my clothes with care, once they’re clean they’re often stored unfolded in piles on my bedroom floor. I’m not proud of this.

My dress shoes, though, they’re stored on a rack, polished often (suede is brushed), and bagged and treed when appropriate. I haven’t crossed the line into rare or high-end shoe care products—Kiwi polish does it for me—but I did pick up some products for boot care, since my boots don’t get babied like my shoes.

I have Russell’s Chamois Oil for my Russell-style chamois leather upland mocc boots. And I have Obenauf’s Leather Preservative for my hiking boots and any other shoes that may need to repel manure acids. It's kind of relaxing to polish shoes or oil boots--there's a ritual to it that is appealing, like getting a straight-razor shave at the barber. Obenauf's has a mild beeswax scent that is also pleasant. Yes, my significant other thinks I'm nuts. But with luck, my shoes should last until they are waaaaay out of style.

Russell Moccasin's site also has a great step-by-step before-and-after on reviving a pair of their old boots.

EDIT: I SWEAR on my entire shoe collection that I wrote this before I saw acontinuouslean covering some of the same stuff. I may be a cheap imitation, but I'm not a direct rip!

Recommended Listening: The Wrens.

2009-01-04T20:37:00.002-05:00

Well, duh. The Wrens are like a rad sweater you forget about for a few years, and then notice again when you're putting away your shorts and tshirts and digging out your corduroys again. It's a little scratchy and has a moth hole in the armpit, but it smells like a good time you had in 2003. I wish they'd put out a new sweater. I think I'm torturing the metaphor a little.

Wrens arguable head dude Charles Bissel has been hanging out with Okkervil River (and Will Sheff, in particular), and they've contributed to an R.E.M. covers album, but otherwise they've been quiet for a long time. Like, almost since I graduated from college. They contributed a track for an obscure Australian comp coming out soon (stereogum covered this awhile back, thanks KC for the heads up). "In Turkish Waters" is a typical Wrens track, in that it doesn't club you over the head with its awesomeness, but quietly becomes one of those songs you look for on your ipod.

The Wrens - In Turkish Waters

Also, if you ever lend that sweater to a Wren, get it dry cleaned.

Photo from The KEXP Blog (live Wrens tunes there).

Better in Theory Than in Practice: All-You-Can-Eat Sushi.

2009-01-03T14:16:00.001-05:00

Just putting that out there.
Photo from Google's Life Magazine Photo archive.

Recommended Listening: The Sound of Young America.

2009-01-03T13:56:00.004-05:00

I think we’re far enough from the dawn of the podcast era that most of the crappy, I’ll-read-my-blog-into-a-mic podcasts have been winnowed away and what’s left is the wheat. Or the chaff, I’ve never been clear on that. The good stuff. Most of the best would work on radio as well as they do on iTunes--This American Life, for instance.

The Sound of Young America is such a podcast from Jesse Thorn, who has developed his straightforward, warm, and quick-witted interviewing into a show that gets a wide range of guests to answer questions that aren’t just prompting for promotion. Thorn is like a younger, better-informed Robert Siegel. Recent episodes that were especially good included Louis C.K., who discussed the progression of his comedy to include foul family material, involving in particular his two daughters. The interview almost had my wife on board with C.K.’s sense of humor, despite his saying things we wished we could unhear. In another show, comics artist Adrian Tomine addresses the race and cultural identity issues that he deals with or chooses not to deal with in his work, and the criticism/hate mail he’s stirred up on that front.

Thorn’s top-40-countdown voice and post-radio schtick can wear a little thin on repeat listening, but he’s got a great manner that draws guests out beyond the usual talk show boilerplate.

Photo from Google's Life Magazine archive.

Boilo: Cures what ales ya.

2008-12-29T22:31:00.003-05:00

Over the holiday weekend, my brother-in-law Ben and I went back and forth over seasonal drinks. Gin and tonic? Summer. Whiskey neat? Winter. Mint juleps? The first Saturday in May. German beer? Fall, although a hefeweizen goes down well when it’s more humid in DC than it ever gets in Munich.

I am unconscionably committed to drinks, food, music, and literature that are appropriate for the climate, and, to some extent, the region. Luckily I’m in a temperate, cosmopolitan area, or I’d be missing out on so much. Ben lives in south Texas, so I can only assume he’s limited to Shiner, Kenny Rogers (chicken and albums), and Lonesome Dove.

Though I love a dark’n’stormy or a cold beer in July, I prefer the strong flavors and long reads of winter, so while my family enjoyed a rum and pomegranate juice on December 27, I sipped a beer and wished I’d brought the ingredients for boilo. I had a chance to make boilo on Christmas day this year, and may do it again before we thaw out. Boilo recipes can vary a lot, but this one worked for me.

Ingredients:

1 orange, quartered (I used a couple clementines this time)
2 lemons, quartered
8 oz water
1 tsp caraway seeds
2 sticks cinnamon
1 tsp cloves
8 oz honey
10 oz cheap whiskey (I have been told that rye is traditional… Old Overholt is good)

Directions:

Place fruit in a medium saucepan, pour in water and heat on medium-high. Add spices. When water boils, stir in honey. Bring back to a boil, and reduce for about 4 minutes. Remove from heat, add whiskey. Stir well. If serving immediately, pour through strainer into a teapot. Can also be left on low heat to keep warm and strained before serving, or reheated in the microwave, but take care not to cook off the alcohol. Serve in demitasses (or in mugs, but larger servings make it harder to drink, uh, responsibly), and garnish with a cinnamon stick.

Photo from Flickr's Library of Congress photostream.

Take Ivy: The Trad scans.

2008-12-28T19:18:00.001-05:00

In 1965, Japanese photographer T. Hayashida spent some time on American Ivy League campuses shooting pictures of the students (mostly men) in their natural habitat. He published the photos in a uniquely Japanese book titled Take Ivy about the seemingly un-self-conscious Ivy League style--a book which was mostly forgotten about decades later. Out of print, it's seen a surge in popularity in the past year or so, as many designers and labels have looked to that era and setting as inspiration—Ralph Lauren has really used it forever, but lines like Michael Bastian, Hickey, Engineered Garments, and others have been putting out clothes that are right out of Hayashida’s photos. This stuff is Preppy Handbook: The College Years before there was a Preppy Handbook.

The Trad got his hands on a copy of Take Ivy and has posted some great scans (Acontinuouslean had posted limited scans before, and it’s been covered in a few million blogs—I’m not scooping anyone here). Some pictures would translate very well to today; others are best left in the 60s. Check out The Trad for higher res scans and some translations of the captions in the comments. I’ve poached a couple of my favorites:

Looks good.

At my fraternity formal meetings, guys wore ties with tshirts.

I did some research to make sure this could not be George W. and Laura Bush.

Glad we've discovered other colors for socks, and other shoes than loafers. And other sizes for shorts. And decided not to wear socks with loafers and shorts.

What is it with college kids and climate-inappropriate attire? Dudes are always wearing birks and shorts in December.

Show preview: TPOBPAH.

2008-12-28T18:52:00.005-05:00

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart are nearly as wordy and cute as their name, but manage not to be cutesy or precious. Or just precious enough. With a new album out on Slumberland in February (been looking forward to this one), they're coming to the Black Cat backstage Tuesday, February 9 with the Depreciation Guild, who, word is, are also good. $10.

Full disclosure: I have, historically, been good friends with one member of the band. Guess which one!

MP3: The Pains of Being Pure at Heart--Everything With You

Concert Fools Redux: The Dancer.

2008-12-19T23:17:00.004-05:00

The dancer. A lot of sold out shows are too crowded for much lateral movement, but at a sparsely populated show, you’re bound to see people break out distractingly bad moves. The raised arm, back-and-forth point is a good one--kind of a lamer fist pump. If you’re ever at a concert with a girl who dances by twisting her shoulders back and forth, feet in place, swinging her arms limply and snapping her fingers at the end of each swing, leave her. I myself am prone to the rhythm-disabled heel tap and head nod, but I like to think no one notices.

Place I’d Like To Spend Money: Oi Polloi.

2008-12-19T23:16:00.000-05:00

I’ve never been to Oi Polloi, which is in Manchester, but I have a feeling I’d like it. First off, good things come from Manchester—The Smiths, The Fall, Factory Records, Doves, etc. The store puts out a newsletter with a healthy British sense of humor and an obsession with “stuff” that I share. Also, they carry goods you can’t get a hold of easily stateside.

For instance: Garbstore (British brand, heavily workwear influenced; also a store unto themselves), Yuketen (Japanese footwear in the vein of—and sometimes made by—Quoddy Trail), Fjallraven (Swedish outdoorsy brand); classics like Barbour and Lee (the good stuff); and finds like Our Legacy (kind of RL by-way-of Sweden) and Bill Amberg (canvas/leather bags of the finest type). Oi Polloi also has their own line of clothes, which seem to be basic and well-made—kind of a British APC. They also carry APC!

I also love the pictures they use to represent their brands Paul Weller for Fred Perry, etc. My only quarrels, other than distance, are with their slow Web site and pricy shipping.

“It’s not a jazz show.”

2008-12-15T20:28:00.003-05:00

I’m a little bleary eyed from a weekend of extended concerting. Ted Leo played a long solo set at the Black Cat Saturday night, and Wilco played for over 2 hours last night at the Lyric in Baltimore. A good time was had by most.

Ted Leo talked a lot about… well, he talked a lot. But he repeatedly mentioned his last solo tour through DC, another backstage show—I think his chronology was a little wonky, because I think the last time he played backstage solo was with opener Rebecca Gates in 2003, which may be the first time I saw Leo live, but my feeble brain can’t quite remember, and google’s brain is no help. /fanboy

This time around we got no Chisel songs, but a handful of Leo-style covers—nuggets of dusty rock history. He played Do Anything You Wanna Do by Eddie and the Hot Rods (which, pardon my ignorance of 70s British pub rock, was so generic I thought it might be a joke, like Leo’s “cover” of “Barry Dworkin’s” “Rock’n’Roll Dreams’ll Come Through” for “WFMU” a few “years” back), Fathering by Mark Mulcahy, the Misfits' Angelf***, his usual Dirty Old Town, and a couple of others. Naturally, I looked a couple up, embarrassed that I’m not really familiar, trusting that what Ted Leo knows is worth knowing. (Most interesting fact—Mulcahy’s second band, Polaris, was the house band for The Adventures of Pete and Pete.) Regarding the show, much as I love Ted Leo, the unfamiliar covers and extended banter kind of killed his momentum.

Wilco played a greatest-hits kind of set similar to their 9:30 Club show earlier this year. I was disappointed that we got Kidsmoke and neither Monday nor Theologians.
Both shows made me want to revisit David Segal’s 2004 Washington Post treatise on concert fools—yes, the fools that ruin concerts. Spookily, I also dug up a 2004 Post chat with Segal in which someone complains about concert fools at a Ted Leo show. Also spookily, it’s possible if not probable the crank who posted that was me. Segal’s article addresses some of the more obvious fools (there were requestaholics at both shows and a whole crowd of standers at Wilco), but misses out on a few—I may address these omissions in the future.

How Not To Sound Dumb.

2008-12-10T22:21:00.002-05:00

Steve was a very well-read friend of mine in high school. I read a lot, too, but Steve read constantly, almost indiscriminately. He had a shameful penchant for D&D novels (haven’t seen Steve in awhile, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he has written some fan-fiction).

Being young and sheltered, we didn’t always “get” what we were reading. No one really picked up on any conflicting ideologies in Anthem and 1984—they were just dystopian stories with cool book covers. We also tried to work writerly words from our reading into conversation, with poor results. I’d like to think we were driven less by a desire to sound smart than a genuine hunger for and excitement about language in general, but we always came off like know-it-all jerks, particularly in our spectacular failures at saying the words we had read, but never actually heard.

We read Don Quixote and, separately, the word “quixotic,” and naturally assumed it was key-HOE-tik. Woops. We read a piece by David Mamet after studying Manet. French playwright David Mah-MAY was born. We didn’t know what the hell to do with “juxtaposition,” especially after the “quixotic” fiasco. I think I heard it as YUK-stah-poe-zih-shun at least once.

I felt a familiar flush creeping into my face recently when a coworker asked about a book I was reading—William T. Vollman’s Europe Central. I said I wished I was more music-literate, because Russian composer Dmitri Shostakovich is a central character. I got a puzzled look. “Ooooh,” she said, “Shah-stah-KO-veech. I should really read it; I love Shah-stah-KO-veech.” All this time I’ve been calling him Show-STOCK-o-vitch. Why didn't someone tell me? I was making an idiot out of myself.

For the record:

Shostakovich = shah-stah-KO-veech
quixotic = kwik-SAH-tik
Mamet = MAM-it
juxtaposition = juks-tah-poe-ZIH-shun
Krabappel = Krub-OPP-uhl (definitely not KRAN-dul)

Photo of Montgomery County (MD) high school students circa 1940 from Shorpy.

Gifts for Others 2008.

2008-12-10T21:58:00.004-05:00

I could spend now through Christmas listing books, clothing, and other desiderata that people can buy for me, but my apartment is already disgracefully crammed with crap I once considered essential acquiring, so I’ll skip that and list a few things I’d like to give to other people this year (but won’t, necessarily).

Adagio UtiliTEA Kettle—$49—An electric kettle is exactly the kind of thing no one who has a stove or microwave needs. But this one is a nice extravagance for tea snobs (and those who would like to become tea snobs) because it heats water perfectly for green tea and white tea, so as not to damage the delicate flavors with bruisingly hot water from a pedestrian stovetop kettle.
Good for: Girlfriends, moms, Anglophiles, people who know the difference between green and white tea

Animal Crossing: City Folk—Wii game, $49.99—A very Japanese game, it’s a life simulator, and includes such fun simulated activities as expressing emotion, paying a mortgage, and collecting insects. I swear it’s more fun than it sounds.
Good for: Nerdy kids, parents who want to instill financial responsibility in their children beyond “you’ll get nothing and like it.”

“Flying” Alarm Clock—$14.99—Far be it from me to buy a present that not only insults the receiver (“You seem like you probably have a hard time getting out of bed.”) but also will annoy them whenever they use it--but this seems like a pretty useful gift. The propellered top of the clock is the alarm and flies off the base as the alarm sounds. The noise will not stop until the flying piece is fetched and returned to the clock.
Good for: Brothers who have checkered employment histories and difficulty getting to work on time.

A subscription to Monocle—75GBP ($115)—This magazine is ridiculous-ly awesome. Takes itself very seriously and seems to back it up. It’s like the Econofinanwallpapesquire Times. In the tradition of high prices making things oddly more desirable, a subscription to Monocle (10 issues) costs 10 percent more than the cover price. Take that, Sports Illustrated!
Good for: Hipsters, the last of the famous international playboys.

Henry Owlington—$45—Stuffed Owl from DC crafter tigerflight. These crafty things are good for two recipients: people you know really well for whom an indie stuffed animal would be perfect, and people for whom you have no idea what to get but whom you like to offput, just a little.
Good for: Those people.

Marimekko Tote Bag—$75—Holds a lot of crap, has a pretty flower on the side.
Good for: Sisters, moms who remember last time Marimekko was hip.

Buzz Rickson Chambray Work Shirt—$129—My dad wears chambray shirts, which sounds kind of cool until you realize he dry cleans them (heavy startch), and buys them at Haggar. He’d be better off in Buzz Rickson’s reconstruction of a 1944 U.S. Navy spec work shirt. It will appeal to the history buff in him.
Good for: Dads, brothers, sons with more money than sense.

Roomba—$499—Cleans your house and good for the occasional film reenactment.
Good for: Cats

Photo from Library of Congress flickr.

Happy Ikesgiving.

2008-11-27T09:29:00.002-05:00

From Google's LIFE magazine photo archive.

H Street Blues.

2008-11-23T22:47:00.004-05:00

Complaining about little annoyances and “rich people problems” is a small satisfaction in life, particularly life in the D.C. area. Some elevate DC-inspired grumpiness to an art. People don’t get out of the way on Metro escalators; parking is tight; the Brickskeller was out of both beers I wanted; people throw bricks at me on my commute. Cry me a river.

H Street NE corrals a whole lot of DC annoyances into a couple of blocks of suck for your miserable convenience. It’s got a fake name invented by real estate speculators (the Atlas District sounds better than South Trinidad). You can’t walk there from the Metro. It’s got jaded hipsters who are already convinced their neighborhood has gone to the bridge-and-tunnel dogs. And they have a point—on a Saturday night it’s also got a lot of Virginians and Marylanders, like myself, lured by the perceived edge and novelty of an “evolving” neighborhood.

I made the mistake of driving down there Saturday night to see the Oranges Band and check out Granville Moore’s. I should have known better—the restaurant recently appeared on the Food Network, and other restaurants nearby have some buzz. So it’s probably my own fault that I showed up at 9:30 p.m. and expected to be able to eat. After struggling to find parking, we arrived and were told the wait was 2 hours. The kitchen closes at 11 p.m., so, doing a little math, I interpreted that as “Don’t bother.”

W… T… F… It’s like the yupster Cheesecake Factory. This kind of thing used to happen a lot at Matchbox, another popular spot that doesn’t take reservations. The result is I pretty much stopped going. I may be a sucker who will gladly pay $30 for a beer, some shellfish, and fries, but I’m not the kind of sucker who will wait for 2 hours for the privilege. It’s enough to make me go to Applebees—I bet I can walk there, and they take reservations.

A tarpaper shack, a cart of apples, some pencils.

2008-11-20T18:51:00.003-05:00

In the interest of gift givers’ wallets, I’ve put together a list of cool gifts for someone like me (for example, me) on which everything is under $25. Big ticket items like a bike, a house, Rock Band 2, etc. may have to wait until next year.

1. Phillies World Series Roster Shirt—$24.99 is a lot to pay for a shirt you will wear exclusively to the gym and/or bed (thanks KC), but I put July 4, 2021, as the date this shirt will tip from poor design aesthetics into quality nostalgia, as I say over my shoulder “Yeah, So friggin’ Taguchi! Good ol’ number 99.” At that moment, it will be worth it. $24.99 + shipping.

2. Barbour Thornproof Dressing—I have a waxed cotton jacket (not from Barbour… maybe next Christmas) that needs a new coat, and I’m hellbent on doing it my damn self. The real stuff from Barbour can be had for $10-$15. Currently available at www.countryattire.co.uk for a mere 7.99GBP including shipping to the U.S. That’s only $11.98 at the current (enjoyable!) $/GBP exchange.

3. Field Notes Memo Books—Having filled up my cassette moleskin from Beth, I need a new moleskine-type book, and this 3-pack of graph paper memo books fits the bill and looks pleasingly official. Endorsed by acontinuouslean.com. $9.95 + shipping.

4. Military Surplus Watch—J. Crew is selling a Timex quartz watch in this style for $150. A non-J. Crew version is $50.00, and this no-brand issue watch is a mere $22 + shipping. (Truly, I’d prefer the Vietnam-era mechanical, but that’s a money bin-draining $46.)

5. J. Crew Argyle Socks—In the spirit of my love/hate relationship with J. Crew, I bashed the Crew (we all know what we’re talking about here) in #4 and I’ll embrace it in #5. The socks are great. In a business casual workplace, or just generally, one can rarely have enough argyle socks. $14, with select colors at three for $20, or just wait until after Christmas when they’ll all be $3.99. J. Press’s are a little pricier, but a wool rather than cotton blend.

6. Mother of Pearl Cufflinks—From Seize sur Vingt. Not as dressy as metallic links, not as much of a pain to get through buttonholes as silk knots. The horn version is especially rad. $20 plus shipping.

7. American Apparel Gym Bag—I need a gym bag that’s cheap, because I make such things gross. $17 + shipping.

8. Anton Corbijn Director’s Label DVD—Volume 2 does not quite live up to the first volume in this series (focusing on Chris Cunningham, Michel Gondry, and Spike Jonze), but how could it? Of the four DVDs in vol. 2, this is the most intriguing, and probably rewatchable (I have rewatched the Jonze and Gondry DVDs many times, mostly after drinking too much whiskey). Corbijn will probably forever be associated with U2 and Joy Division, but this disc includes two of my favorite 90s videos, Heart Shaped Box and Liar. (But not his video for Danzig’s Dirty Black Summer?! Disappointed!) And nevermind, I can just watch those on youtube.

9. Fisher Space Pen—Now you too can be like Jack Klompus. It writes upside down! Also, it looks cool in a Mad Men sorta way. $20 + shipping (engraving is $1.50 per line, so go nuts).

10. Sigg Aluminum (Lunch) Box—Sigg bottles have officially replaced Nalgenes as the granola yuppie accessory drink container of choice, what with all the cancer and bunny torture devices for which Nalgene was allegedly responsible. And yet, I still don’t have one. I don’t have one of these yet, either, but I think it would be nifty to take it to my next “brown bag” meeting. “Nice BAG,” I’d say sarcastically. The $24.95 version, the Midi, is probably a little small for my Kubiak-style lunches, but the larger Maxi seems to be occasionally on sale for the same price.

If, as thanks for this list, you'd like to send me a gift, my mailing address can be provided.

Steve Fry slept here.

2008-11-16T22:10:00.004-05:00

I spent some time in Ireland recently with little access to quality American television programming. I was stuck mostly with BBC fare (everybody loves The Office, but remember, we also got Dancing With the Stars, American Idol, and Hole in the Wall from them).

I did, however, get to watch a short series documentary in which Stephen Fry drives around the U.S. in a black cab, "experiencing" the U.S. "Stephen Fry in America" was naive, condescending, and charming--I really liked watching the states roll by through the eyes of a clever, surefooted foreigner who isn't afraid to make a fool of himself; much the same way I'm sure the Brits enjoyed "King Ralph" when it debuted in England.

It's based on Fry's book , which I would put on my Christmas list if it were out in the U.S. I'll trade Santa some mince pies and wine for it! The TV series is already out on DVD in the UK--I hope the BBC doesn't ignore America's insatiable taste for immigrants and lighthearted mockery of our values through humo(u)r! That "u" is for you, Stephen.

My recent travels.

2008-11-16T22:01:00.005-05:00

As described through pictures in which I do not appear.

Passamaquoddy?

2008-10-03T11:53:00.011-04:00

As a kid, I was a fan of Pete's Dragon--both the movie and the Disney Read-along Book--which took place in the fictional town of Passamaquoddy, Maine. I think I identified less with Pete, the lovable orphan who shares my name, than with Lampie, a drunken fisherman played with subtlety and nuance by consummate character actor Mickey Rooney. He pioneered acting in live action/animated film. He's the green one, on the left, I think.

This has nothing to do with anything--except Maine and Quoddy. I admit, I own more footwear than the average man. I own a pair of 1983 Nike turf shoes that may or may not have been made for the Ohio State football team. I can't explain that. I have never worn them. However, I wear boat shoes a lot, and have been wearing a pair of J. Crew boat shoes to death for a couple of years. They've pretty much had it, and were worthless in the winter anyway--so I was seeking out a pair of boat shoe-type shoes for winter when I got turned on to Quoddy Trail Moccasin Company. Quoddy has been making moccasin-style shoes in Maine for a long time, and back in the day they made shoes for LL Bean. They've gotten a lot of press lately for making high-quality shoes in America, and their signature moccasin models fit nicely with the trend of pretty much everyone wearing boat shoes--from traditional yacht rockers to quasi-hipsters. Quoddy has also been making shoes for lines like Maine-based, maritime-inspired Rogues Gallery and stores like LA's taste-setting South Willard.

Quoddy's customer service is personal and courteous, but not fast. It's a small company that makes a good proportion of shoes according to order, so turnaround time can be agonizing--it should be mentioned that I have no patience. But Kirsten Shorey (the Shorey family has run Quoddy for a century) helped me out and got me a pair of ring boots in about a month. I ordered a pair in natural chromepak leather with a crepe sole, and these shoes are tough. The leather is a 1/4 inch thick, and the crepe sole is handsewn to the upper. The ring boot style takes a little getting used to, but I think I'll be wearing these a lot this fall and winter, despite the fact that I'm hitting the pavement in DC and not stalking in the woods of Maine. /peterman

Apparently, Quoddy recently expanded to keep up with demand, and this expansion has come with a price expansion as well. But they still represent a good value at a time when some brands are charging hundreds of dollars for re-badged Sperrys.

Royale With Cheese

2008-09-24T10:52:00.006-04:00

Much like Pulp Fiction was the high point of Samuel L. Jackson's career--you could argue for his part in the opening of Eddie Murphy's Raw, but let's be serious--a recent meal at Ray's the Classics in Silver Spring may have been the high point of my hamburger eating... career.

I can walk to Ray's, but I don't get there often because of, you know, money. Ray's is expensive, but not unreasonable--the restaurant offers a $24 three-course prix fix in the bar, and the steaks and chops are cheaper than at most steakhouses. I go every once in awhile--in the words of George Brett, I'm good twice a year for that. But the news that Ray's owner Michael Landrum would serve his "Butcher Burger," famous from his Arlington burger joint Ray's Hell Burger, nearly made me pull a George Brett. By which I mean I nearly tried to kill homeplate ump Tim McClelland.

For $8 (not much more than a Five Guys burger), Ray's the Classics patrons can get a truly excellent meat sandwich made from house-ground beef, cooked to order--Ray's will do rarer than medium--with several "options"--au poivre or "diablo" (with a chipotle sauce) among others. Sides are the same creamed spinach and mashed potatos Ray's serves in the dining room. Wash it down with a Silver-Spring-based (if not brewed) Hook and Ladder beer. Total cost for two, including tax and 20% tip, is about $35.

Landrum's Arlington customers get more of a burger joint ambiance and some different menu options, but they also get to wait in line and fight over tables. It's generally not hard to get a table in the bar at Ray's the Classics. The lounge itself doesn't have a lot of personality--I personally prefer the comfortable dank of nearby Quarry House--and no TVs, which follows the no frills theme of Ray's. A burger at Ray's is about the burger, just as a steak dinner at any of Landrum's restaurants is about the steak.

"The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of mediocre $10 hamburgers. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak to awesome steakburgers and beer."

Zombie. Zombie. Zombie Nation.

2008-08-22T11:16:00.002-04:00

I would be remiss, as someone with a blog who lives in Silver Spring, if I didn't link to Silver Spring, Singular's survival plan for Zombie Apocalypse in my unincorprated semi-urban area.

His breakdown is funny, sure; but I found myself nodding in agreement as I read it. This... might... just... work.

"We all know what we're talking about here."

2008-08-21T15:38:00.014-04:00

Helping my sister move in at college this week brought back a lot of memories of my own college experience--serenading the greek revival "sorority" houses with my a capella quintet; good-natured "hazing" of "pledges" that ended in laughs all around; waving pennants and sipping mulled wine at the annual "bowl game." Say what you will, those are my pleasant memories of college life.

More difficult to repress than my actual memories of college is my writing from that time, because it's saved to an iMac hard drive. The years since only sharpen the pain of re-reading the immature, lazy, derivative crap I wrote while allegedly perfecting my craft. I wince my way through the Appleworks files. On the rare occasion I come across some clever turn of phrase, I often realize that I inadvertently cribbed a lame Police lyric or something. The friggin' Police? The "It's no use, he sees her, he starts to shake and cough / Just like the old man in that book by Nabokov" Police? Ugh. You'll note that this item might be more compelling with an illustrative example of my terrible college output, but I think the progression in my writing speaks for itself.

Michael Showalter confronted the terror and embarrassment of reading your own precocious teenage drivel in his standup--I saw him talk about his high school lit mag at the Black Cat a couple of years back. The piece, a dramatic reading of his own story, "The Apartment," also appears on his album "Sandwiches and Cats."

Michael Showalter -- The Apartment

A new 8-story building of the most modern type.

2008-08-11T14:36:00.004-04:00

21st and C Streets N.W., Washington, DC.

This is a shot from Shorpy, the 100-year-old photo blog. This one's actually 84 years old. Looking at a map, the apartments stand on land now occupied by the Department of State, a few hundred yards from the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.