Make It a Double-Breasted Monday!

The late Duke of Windsor in a double-breasted suit. The man is still a somewhat problematic figure in British history, but he certainly knew how to dress well (most of the time).

For average guys working to kick up their everyday style several notches, here's a novel suggestion. Let's rechristen 'Oy Vay Monday' as 'Double-breasted Monday' and leave home in either a double-breasted suit, navy blazer, or sports jacket. I'll don an Alan Flusser double-breasted sports jacket (midnight navy with a faint mustard windowpane pattern), purchased in a thrift/charity shop two years ago, in a short while myself.

Now, some might sneer, but whether or not the look is deemed currently fashionable, or not, there is no doubt that it is classic and timeless. And you've got some chutzpah, right?

A double-breasted jacket also provides a nice change in silhouette from the more typical single-breasted look that reigns in 2014. . . when men bother to wear suits or jackets at all.

And if anyone mutters something about dressing like your grandfather, you can simply reply, "Why, yes. Yes, I do. Thank you. My grandfather knew how to present himself well." That should give 'em something to think about.

-- Heinz-Ulrich

Hugh Laurie as Bertie Wooster in a nice looking double-breasted number. Stephen Fry as Gieves doesn't look too shabby either.

A younger Prince Charles, looking casual and relaxed in a summer, tan double-breasted suit.

The late Cary Grant, who always looked amazing, in another double-breasted suit. Peaked lapels come into their own with this kind of suit coat or sports jacket.

A much younger Sir Michael Caine in a more somber double-breasted suit. I prefer, though, to leave the bottom button on a 6/2 jacket undone for a slightly more nonchalant look.

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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

Classic Style

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