Skip to main content

Bingo Little Tweed Suit Tuesday. . .


The upper half today, featuring a wool challis necktie by Rooster.  Italian material hand-stitched in the U.S.A.  It's amazing what people will unwittingly unload on thrift/charity shops.


And the lower half, featuring those recently recrafted Allen Edmonds suede  brogues once more and a pair of flying geese Merino wool dress socks by Dapper Classics.

Decidedly nippy here in Mid-Michigan today, so a perfect excuse to trot out this heavy tweed suit by Chipp for its inaugural wearing.  A lined, winter weight garment here kids., so it's got to be below 40 degrees Fahrenheit to wear this one comfortably.  The only alteration necessary was to have the waist of the pants taken in a bit, but otherwise, it fits very well.  A pleasing silhouette with slight waist suppression and side vents, shoulders with almost no padding, not too tight, but not billowing around me either with a medium break in the pants, which I wore with actual braces today.  And it is finally cool enough that I can keep my coat buttoned at the center (o a three-button coat) without roasting away.

Found this particular suit on Ebay late last spring and, if memory serves, splurged a tiny bit, but still picked it up for far less than it would have retailed new.  I feel almost like I'm about fire up the old roadster and motor down to Aunt Agatha's for a long weekend of hunting, dinners, sing-alongs at the piano, late breakfasts, and the avoidance of romantic entanglements with scheming third cousins of the female persuasion.

Meanwhile, back on Earth, just one more  day to go until the long Thanksgiving weekend begins.  Not exactly the type of weekend I mention above, but I'll take it just the same.

-- Heinz-Ulrich 

Comments

Popular Posts

Up North Style. . .

Bad Dad makes a friend. YMP and Bad Dad on the shores of Lake Michigan.  Or was that Crystal Lake? The Grand Duchess takes a selfie in her kayak. How NOT to impress the girls sunning themselves along the river. YMP and Bad Dad kayaking on the Platte River headed toward Loon Lake.   J ust back from a week in Northern Michigan in a charming and spacious house on the banks of the Betsie River outside of Thompsonville.  A largely pleasant seven days despite some challenging episodes with the Young Master, who has picked up some very questionable habits and language from his friends in the 8th Grade during the school year just ended.  But otherwise, we enjoyed ourselves and contemplated remaining for a few days longer since the house was available.   In the end, we decided to return home as planned originally since neither my wife, nor I wanted to spend the remaining days chained to our computers in Zoom meetings from our vacation destination.  I actually managed to leave the laptop and ip

Mid-June Thursday Style. . .

    A nother pretty typical variation on the theme for late spring, summer, and very early fall.  I'm a huge fan of Madras and have several such shirts in the seasonal rotation.  Lightweight, exceedingly comfortable, and even dressy when pressed and tucked in, which is the usual way of things here at Totleigh in the Wold.   Now, if I had my druthers, I'd still rather be skiing the trails in the upper half of "The Mitten" (of Michigan), in the Upper Peninsula, or Ontario.  But summers ain't so bad either, and I'd look pretty funny walking around in cross-country ski attire during June. -- Heinz-Ulrich

A Lazy Saturday at the End of June. . .

  A sleepy first half of the weekend here at Totleigh.  Warmer and quite humid ahead of an approaching cool front here in Mid-Michigan.  Perfect for yet another pair of chino shorts an a seersucker shirt -- tucked in of course -- with the usual leather deck shoes and ribbon belt.  Otherwise, not much accomplished beyond a page or so of writing and monkeying around with audio settings for an upcoming podcast episode.   However, I was not completely useless yesterday!  I made a huge fruit salad for dinner, which the Grand Duchess and I enjoyed a short while later at the table on the back porch.  The Young Master, as is his wont on Saturday evenings,  took his dinner on a tray in the TV room upstairs where he whiled away a couple of hours on Flight Simulator, flying some sort of commercial airliner to some destination across the Atlantic or Pacific.  I would have loved that sort of technology at about nine or 10 way back during the late 1970s, aka The Stone Age.  As it is, my sister and