Vintage Dobbs Hat Ads. . .

Keeping up with our vintage hat advertisement theme, here are a bunch from the 1940s-1950s, showing various models made and sold by Dobbs. Enjoy!

I hope everyone is otherwise holding up reasonably well during all of this Covid-19 worry. I certainly grasp why we are to remain at home for the time being -- It's a communicable illness, folks! -- and those who would suggest otherwise are being incredibly foolish. However, I'm really starting to miss the normal Monday through Thursday or Friday routine.

You know. Rising early (Yes, really.), dressing after a shower and shave, and then heading to the car for the usual brief jaunt to campus, invariably followed by a coffee and a few hours at work in the main library's cafe before classes and afternoon meetings fill the rest of the day. Well, I can do without the meetings, but you hopefully understand what I mean.

Certainly, we all wish we had more days off, more summer vacation time, and longer weekends. But too much time at home isn't good either. On the domestic front, it's nice to be able to get away from each other, something that has become harder to achieve the last six weeks or so. "Let us miss you!" as my English great grandmother -- Maggie Smith could play her were the story ever to make it to television or the big screen -- reportedly said now and then to my late maternal grandmother when she was about six or seven just under a century ago.

While there might be people who gasp and think such a sentiment is awful, it is indeed trying to feel joined at the hip 24/7, or that every time you turn around, you trip over each other. A bit of absence makes the heart grow fonder as the platitude goes.

-- Heinz-Ulrich

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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