August in September Style. . .

On the top half, a vintage Madras jacket by Corbin that has been in the warm weather rotation for a couple of summers.

Well, the calendar might suggest that we have started Fall, but the mercury has climbed to 90 degrees Fahrenheit (32.2 Celsius) here in Mid-Michigan today. Hot enough to forego my usual necktie this morning and haul out something that is normally put into storage after the Labor Day Weekend, namely the Madras jacket. I know. I know. But I needed something light and airy in my ongoing efforts to avoid becoming one of the Slob Borg who prevail in 2017. Needless to say, you don't see too many items like this jacket in real life these days, and certainly not on the typical university campus. The same can be said of the Panama hat which topped off the ensemble.

-- Heinz-Ulrich von B.

P.S. Saturday

The unseasonably hot weather is slated to continue for another few days, so the seersucker and linen suits will make their final (?) appearances for the season early in the coming week. Outlandish and rumpled by average standards in 2017, yes, but I'd prefer comfort and style, in a classic sense, to the alternative. What's funny is that even very poor people in Mexico, a hot country where I have spent quite a bit of time in the last 15 years or so, manage to dress better (yet appropriately for the climate) than the vast bulk of people here in the U.S. when the mercury approaches the triple digits. Newsflash! A sweaty t-shirt (or similar item) sticking to your back, stomach, and armpits is not "comfortable."

On the lower half, Land's End dress chinos that have been in the wardrobe or 10+ years, a pair of cotton to-the-knee socks by Dapper Classics, and loafers by Allen Edmonds.

Comments

Avoid Careless Chatter. . .

E specially about the personal details of our lives. There is a lot that OUGHT to be kept more private in 2022 than has become the accepted norm for many. With the conscious and intentional cultivation of classic style in mind, however, we want to avoid oversharing and keep a bit more of ourselves to ourselves. Exactly what personal information and how much of it to keep private seems to be a slippery concept though. Here’s my take based on what I was told and observed as a child and young person at home. Basically, one should keep oneself to oneself in all respects (finances, personal worth, accomplishments, politics, sex, dirty laundry, etc.). As my late father used to advise when we were very small, and I am talking preschool and kindergarten, there were particular subjects that were not discussed outside the immediate family. There is a time and place for sharing certain details of one’s life, but most of the time, those should be played very close to the chest,

Chilly Late April Wednesday Attire. . .

Y ou know, if it is going to remain this cold and blustery, I need about eight inches of snow for some more cross-country skiing. But since the white stuff is long gone, it was time to fish through the cedar closet down in Zum Stollenkeller and pull out some cold weather attire for a seasonal reboot. But I decided to forgo the usual gray herringbone jacket from J. Press (my go-to tweed sports jacket) and instead opted for this number from Hart, Schaffner, and Marx plus the tan cords that hang on the same hanger, so strenuous mental effort was not required. Pressed the shirt after tucking in the Young Master last night at 8:30, grabbed these shoes, and socks, and Bob is your mother's brother as they say. Occasionally gazing through the large library window to my immediate left this morning, and I keep hearing that old Jobim tune drift through my mind this morning (aided by the windmills), as sung by Astrud Gilberto ( together with Leonard Cohen and Paolo Conte, the musi

The Pleasaures of a Well-trained Dog. . .

A few final photographs from my visit to my sister in Washington, D.C. last week. These include one of 'Mr. Beau,' my sister's meticulously trained and truly wonderful Doberman, another of my sister, second cousin, step-father, and yours truly on the steps of the church outside Lexington, North Carolina just after our late mother's interment service, two of me solo at the National Cathedral, and a final one of my sister and me hamming it up during a long evening walk the day before I returned to Michigan. My sister routinely walks to the cathedral, about three blocks from her place, to enjoy the grounds and gardens. The Bishop's Garden, in particular, is a place she likes to sit for quiet contemplation and internal dialogues with our late maternal grandparents and mother, very much in keeping with the Episcopal side of things. Our grandfather, who was raised Methodist, became an Episcopalian when he married our grandmother. Before you ask, I am not sure tha

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